There are some realities that I am reluctant to face.
Example:
- brown sugar is just refined white sugar mixed with molasses. True and a total bummer.
- a one cup measure is a different volume for dry ingredients than liquid. True and annoying.
- baby carrots are just badly formed big carrots that are shaved down to look like amputated fingers. True, unsurprising, but disappointing.
There are other realities I ignore completely. For instance, taking lactaid pills might improve my experience with most dairy products. Instead I just limit my general consumption and reserve the journey to fartland for really important things like Fromage d'Affinois and pints of Ben & Jerry's Oatmeal Cookie Chunk ice cream.
And then there are realities that I create for myself that are just not real at all. Like thinking I'm starving. It's a well known part of privileged American culture to open up a mostly full fridge *see nothing*, close the door, and declare in total disgust "there is NOTHING to eat." This the way I ended up breaking one of my various vegetarian spells. During college I came home to my parents' house to find the fridge barren - on the most barren of fridge days, their fridge is STOCKED, they live in the woods, it's not as if the store is just down the way and they can pick up whatever, whenever. In their most modest states of larder emptiness they have on hand enough to throw together a multi-course dinner for 45 people- and yet, I couldn't see a thing in there save the great majority of a barbequed chicken from the night before that was gracefully contained inside a greasy, recycled plastic bag.
Now birds are pretty far down on my list of preferred meaty bits. Given the choice I'd put steak and lamb WELL ahead of any fowl. The stringy texture of that animal....ooof, gives me the willys. Nevertheless, in that moment of total starvation I saw no other choice. I assumed it was a pre-meditated plan to derail my honorable vegetarianism. After exactly 6 seconds of consideration, I decided I would give them a piece of my mind just as soon as I had replenished my energy stores.
I virtually inhaled this bird's thigh, licked that bone clean before starting in on a drumstick. I was standing in the kitchen, leaning over the island (couldn't even manage the decent move of getting a plate and having a seat), chewing bones and sucking marrow, when someone (mom?) finally noticed that I was eating chicken, and that it was weird, and then warned me - geniusly - not to make myself sick. I'm sure I did. I just can't remember.
I was struck by a similar moment and feeling last night in my kitchen. I got home at 11:00pm from a 4 hour DEEP quilting session (ps I'm a quilter now) and was famished. I opened my fridge - it's little, I can see everything it has to offer and saw this: six beers, a bag of brewers yeast, two sticks of butter, an unripe Fuyu persimmon, half an onion, a rind of some old parmesan, wilting kale, eight eggs, and a jar of plum jam. It was an odd assortment. I had no bread in the house, no crackers, nothing of the quick fix nuts and fruit snack variety. I assessed the dry goods: cous cous, panko bread crumbs, lentils, pasta, Arborio rice, brown rice, several types of beans. There was no easy solution for short term satisfaction. I finally found the inner strength to saute the kale and fry an egg. It took all of six minutes and I just about passed out. But I survived to tell about it.
And what is my point in all of this? Maybe just that I'll never be good at being a truly starving person. And for that I am sorry because every day millions of people are doing a much better job at starving than I am. I only hope that in their lowest moments they open the fridge and find the better part of a whole barbequed chicken. It might not be their first choice but, like me, it may let them live to see dinner.
Days of Thanks - Recap
Controversy surrounds the particular day of the year covered in this post. From a mainstream cultural perspective it does make sense that we call it Thanksgiving rather than say Smallpoxgiving or Slaverygiving, or even Slaughtergiving. And though it refers to a disturbing time in history, it remains a favorite day for many of us, myself included, if only because I ignore the past, spend time with my family, and eat myself into a minor coma.
I have celebrated every single Thanksgiving of my life in Mendocino and all but one of them in my cousins' home. This is a great thing because my cousin Lance can cook. Like really cook, the way real cooks do.
You might be wondering why I care about Thanksgiving since it is a meal that highlights meat. I mean look at that handsome thing, the very face - roasted body - of the holiday:
True, I don't do the bird, nor the stuffing, nor the gravy and then what are we really talking about? Cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, a green vegetable?....Here's the thing, like many of the women in my family, I loooooove mashed potatoes. Not casually, I would marry them and it's a love that will last a lifetime. Thanksgiving may as well just be a tribute meal to potatoes and that would be ok with me. But I admit, the situation is dramatically enhanced by a protein. And here's where tradition steps through the door. Each year, my cousin procures abalone for me. He pounds that little animal, breads it, and fries it.
I have been eating abalone on Thanksgiving for several years now and it goes without saying that it continues to be a total highlight. If you've never had fried abalone it's best described as glorified chicken tenders, except I don't like those, and I love these. What can I say, I'm a classy gal and I like classy stuff.
Another notable accoutrement to our meal included sauteed chantrelles(before and after glamour shots):
And like all exceptional Turkey Day fests, we ended this one with pie. Not surprisingly, I was entirely too full to eat as much as I wanted. There was pumpkin, apple and pecan pie with fresh made whipped cream. And by our calculations the eight of us needed to make it through 1.5 pies each to finish the job. It was an intense moment physically and mentally. I had done the wise move of trying to nap between the main meal and dessert. Unfortunately, I hadn't quite achieved the level of stomach room I was hoping to. The pecan pie was especially inspiring since the pecans were hand carried from Louisianna and were grown by one of the state's more notable pecan farmers. Look at this thing, those pecans are as big as cockroaches!
Next year I may try to opt in to a friend's tradition of eating Thanksgiving pie the night before actual Thanksgiving. Now that is brilliant and makes PERFECT sense. For starters, it eliminates the highly unAmerican need to "pace yourself" or "exercise control" in order to make it to the Thanksgiving finish line and instead you can inflict total pain on your body twice. But it also gives your digestive tract a bit of a dry-run in advance - an extra thorough stretching, if you will...and I might, next year.
It took days to recover from this and the massive family brunch two days later was a total set-back. That being said, I'm already excited for abalone next year.
I have celebrated every single Thanksgiving of my life in Mendocino and all but one of them in my cousins' home. This is a great thing because my cousin Lance can cook. Like really cook, the way real cooks do.
You might be wondering why I care about Thanksgiving since it is a meal that highlights meat. I mean look at that handsome thing, the very face - roasted body - of the holiday:
True, I don't do the bird, nor the stuffing, nor the gravy and then what are we really talking about? Cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, a green vegetable?....Here's the thing, like many of the women in my family, I loooooove mashed potatoes. Not casually, I would marry them and it's a love that will last a lifetime. Thanksgiving may as well just be a tribute meal to potatoes and that would be ok with me. But I admit, the situation is dramatically enhanced by a protein. And here's where tradition steps through the door. Each year, my cousin procures abalone for me. He pounds that little animal, breads it, and fries it.
I have been eating abalone on Thanksgiving for several years now and it goes without saying that it continues to be a total highlight. If you've never had fried abalone it's best described as glorified chicken tenders, except I don't like those, and I love these. What can I say, I'm a classy gal and I like classy stuff. Another notable accoutrement to our meal included sauteed chantrelles(before and after glamour shots):
And like all exceptional Turkey Day fests, we ended this one with pie. Not surprisingly, I was entirely too full to eat as much as I wanted. There was pumpkin, apple and pecan pie with fresh made whipped cream. And by our calculations the eight of us needed to make it through 1.5 pies each to finish the job. It was an intense moment physically and mentally. I had done the wise move of trying to nap between the main meal and dessert. Unfortunately, I hadn't quite achieved the level of stomach room I was hoping to. The pecan pie was especially inspiring since the pecans were hand carried from Louisianna and were grown by one of the state's more notable pecan farmers. Look at this thing, those pecans are as big as cockroaches!
Next year I may try to opt in to a friend's tradition of eating Thanksgiving pie the night before actual Thanksgiving. Now that is brilliant and makes PERFECT sense. For starters, it eliminates the highly unAmerican need to "pace yourself" or "exercise control" in order to make it to the Thanksgiving finish line and instead you can inflict total pain on your body twice. But it also gives your digestive tract a bit of a dry-run in advance - an extra thorough stretching, if you will...and I might, next year.
It took days to recover from this and the massive family brunch two days later was a total set-back. That being said, I'm already excited for abalone next year.
New Years Resolution
It's a little early to be making promises, no? Thankfully I'm not talking about conscious action, I'm talking about drinking. Ah yes, delicious beverages rich in anti-oxidents, probiotics, and alcohol.
Who thought it was possible?
I've got a few friends embarking on a new chilled beverage endeavor.
Artisan Kombucha (sparkling probiotic tea, they like to say) being brewed with love in Petaluma. No really, their Kombucha is fermenting slowly in a warm space called the Love Shack. Exhibit the proof below.
You can find it in 20 Bay Area Whole Foods stores in three delicious flavors: chamomile, ginger, and Gravenstein apple. And you can find many empty bottles in my kitchen thanks to a visit last Friday from LonjeviTea co-founder Michaela who unveiled this brilliant and tasty seasonal drink.
Recipe below:
New Years Resolution
1 ounce vodka
3 ounces LonjeviTea Ginger Kombucha
1.5 ounces pomegranate juice
Blend, shake, pour, enjoy.
As Patton Oswalt likes to say: you're welcome, we're science.
Who thought it was possible?
I've got a few friends embarking on a new chilled beverage endeavor.
Artisan Kombucha (sparkling probiotic tea, they like to say) being brewed with love in Petaluma. No really, their Kombucha is fermenting slowly in a warm space called the Love Shack. Exhibit the proof below.
You can find it in 20 Bay Area Whole Foods stores in three delicious flavors: chamomile, ginger, and Gravenstein apple. And you can find many empty bottles in my kitchen thanks to a visit last Friday from LonjeviTea co-founder Michaela who unveiled this brilliant and tasty seasonal drink.
Recipe below:
New Years Resolution
1 ounce vodka
3 ounces LonjeviTea Ginger Kombucha
1.5 ounces pomegranate juice
Blend, shake, pour, enjoy.
As Patton Oswalt likes to say: you're welcome, we're science.
Some Seasonal, Some Local, All Gourmet
BOO!!! (Weak right? Halloween was over a month ago). Just figured I'd pop back up again as we prepare to cruise on into 2010. I have a new job, in a new town, with a new home. Things are above average on lots of fronts, right down to my sweet one bedroom cottage a few miles from the coast on a sunny piece of land with a garden, chickens, and an apple tree. Color me lucky.
The eating hasn't been too bad either. There are very few places I'd rather be challenged to eat seasonally and locally. California's North Coast boasts an incredible variety of fruits, seafood, veggies, and dairy that can, thankfully, be easily foraged or found at a locally owned store.
My 'recently enjoyed' food list includes a multitude of items that have involved no money to acquire, that have come from my parents' garden or forest, friends, farmers (who leave us things at work in exchange for our coffee bags and chaff), and of course my own backyard. This list includes but is not limited to:
locally harvested sea salt, chantrelle mushrooms, apples, persimmons, lettuce, parsley, kale, onions, garlic, huckleberries, abalone, carrots, peppers, eggs, chard, beets, and squash.
Other featured items that have been purchased but come from less than 150 miles away include: great wine from the Anderson Valley, delicious bread from the Beaujolais or the Fort Bragg Bakery, local olive oil, butter, cheese, yogurt, potatoes.
During the summer both these lists were longer and included tomatoes, basil, rhubarb, plums, peas, blackberries, strawberries, blueberries, peaches, spinach, melons, lemon cucumbers, artichokes...In short, the quality of my food life here is outstanding.
One of the very few downsides to my new living situation is the mini-fridge in the galley kitchen. I prefer a well-stocked kitchen myself but space doesn't allow for a full sized fridge/freezer, greatly limiting my ability to keep a deep store of goods on hand. It has been an adjustment but I am getting used to thinking in advance about my meals. During one of my more challenging evenings when the fridge was on the barer side, I discovered that I had everything on hand to make oatmeal raisin cookies - I split the recipe and made dinner on four of the those tasty nuggets. The nice thing about living alone is that I didn't have to answer to anyone about that choice. Serenity in the home is a priceless thing.
There have been a number of kitchen triumphs as well. Most recently a pre-meditated meal of mushroom risotto and salad rendered thus:
Mushroom risotto: chantrelles, parsley, onions, garlic, and white wine of a local persuasion (rice from Argentina compliments of Lotus Foods).
Salad: mixed lettuces, apples, persimmon and carrots from my backyard or an otherwise nearby plot.
Winter time and the livin' is easy....
The eating hasn't been too bad either. There are very few places I'd rather be challenged to eat seasonally and locally. California's North Coast boasts an incredible variety of fruits, seafood, veggies, and dairy that can, thankfully, be easily foraged or found at a locally owned store.
My 'recently enjoyed' food list includes a multitude of items that have involved no money to acquire, that have come from my parents' garden or forest, friends, farmers (who leave us things at work in exchange for our coffee bags and chaff), and of course my own backyard. This list includes but is not limited to:
locally harvested sea salt, chantrelle mushrooms, apples, persimmons, lettuce, parsley, kale, onions, garlic, huckleberries, abalone, carrots, peppers, eggs, chard, beets, and squash.
Other featured items that have been purchased but come from less than 150 miles away include: great wine from the Anderson Valley, delicious bread from the Beaujolais or the Fort Bragg Bakery, local olive oil, butter, cheese, yogurt, potatoes.
During the summer both these lists were longer and included tomatoes, basil, rhubarb, plums, peas, blackberries, strawberries, blueberries, peaches, spinach, melons, lemon cucumbers, artichokes...In short, the quality of my food life here is outstanding.
One of the very few downsides to my new living situation is the mini-fridge in the galley kitchen. I prefer a well-stocked kitchen myself but space doesn't allow for a full sized fridge/freezer, greatly limiting my ability to keep a deep store of goods on hand. It has been an adjustment but I am getting used to thinking in advance about my meals. During one of my more challenging evenings when the fridge was on the barer side, I discovered that I had everything on hand to make oatmeal raisin cookies - I split the recipe and made dinner on four of the those tasty nuggets. The nice thing about living alone is that I didn't have to answer to anyone about that choice. Serenity in the home is a priceless thing.
There have been a number of kitchen triumphs as well. Most recently a pre-meditated meal of mushroom risotto and salad rendered thus:
Mushroom risotto: chantrelles, parsley, onions, garlic, and white wine of a local persuasion (rice from Argentina compliments of Lotus Foods).
Salad: mixed lettuces, apples, persimmon and carrots from my backyard or an otherwise nearby plot.
Winter time and the livin' is easy....
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