Musings on life - music, photographs, food/recipes/diners/coffeeshops, and books/poems/articles I enjoy. If you like The Avett Brothers, black and white photos, local cafes, non-fiction, dogs, and the feeling you get when you return to your hometown, read and contribute.
"I am searching for a stay-put serenity to replace my brash wanderer's self-satisfaction." - Vivian Swift, "September" chapter of When Wanderers Cease to Roam
"I was a terrible believer in things, but I was also a terrible nonbeliever in things. I was as searching as I was skeptical. I didn't know where to put my faith, or if there was such a place, or even precisely what the word faith meant, in all of its complexity. Everything seemed to be possibly potent and possibly fake. 'You're a seeker,' my mother had said to me when she was in her last week, lying in bed in the hospital, 'like me.'" - Cheryl Strayed, Wild: From lost to found on the Pacific Coast Trail
I love when I read something that describes exactly how I feel, in a way I would never think to articulate. I fail miserably at playing the role of both believer and nonbeliever.
***
Over the years, I've changed my opinion as to who is my favorite. Stanley has taken top honors. I went through an Andy spell. Michael and Holly together made me happy.
Ultimately, though, it has always been Jim.
***
Oatmeal-Apple Dog Treats
2 cups flour (whole wheat or all-purpose)
1 cup oats
2/3 c. water
1/8-1/4 c. minced apple
Spoonful of peanut butter
Spoonful of yogurt
1 1/2 tbsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tbsp. ground cloves
1 tbs. oil
1 1/2 tbs. honey
Mix all ingredients and roll dough to 1/4" thickness. If you own one, use your dog bone cookie cutter; if not, use a small knife to hand-carve bone shapes. Bake at 325 for 30 minutes.
You all know that my fascination with Beyonce is somewhat of an anomaly. I tend toward the indie, the slightly-outside-of-mainstream, maybe even the obscure when it comes to music selection. Nevertheless, I heard "Colder Weather" on the radio yesterday and I remembered how much I really love this song. With it in mind, I offer the following...
Self-indulgent and on-my-high-horse thoughts for the day:
-Don't feel guilty or selfish for expecting those things you know you want.
-"Not settling" is not prideful on principal. Respect yourself even if, in so doing, the necessitated action hurts.
-Rarely do people change. Make decisions based on reality rather than what you wish to be true.
-Liking or even loving someone, yet choosing not to be around them, is not crazy.
-We can justify a gypsy soul when we recognize it in ourselves; it's harder to rationalize when we see it in others. Try.
Song of the day:
Project of the day:
Recipe of the day:
I first saw this recipe in the book that will go unnamed (since I know you must be tired of hearing me talk about it) and have copy and pasted it from the author's (definitely not Jenny Rosenstrach) blog. My modifications (and there are quite a few) are marked in italics. Despite the changes (in each case, a product of just using what I already had on hand as opposed to some sense of "I think this would taste better"), this was still one of my favorite recipes I've tried in a while.
Yes, that was a lot of asides embedded in parentheses.
2 to 2 1/2-pound boneless pork shoulder roast (I used a beef roast)
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small pat butter 1/2 onion 1 clove garlic
1 large can whole tomatoes, with juice (I used a 15 oz. can of diced tomatoes)
1 cup red wine (I used 3/4 c. of "Up the Creek" Chambourcin)
5 sprigs fresh thyme (I used a mix of golden oregano and rosemary)
5 sprigs fresh oregano
Small handful of fennel seeds
1 tablespoon hot sauce, for smokiness
Pappardelle (I used "extra large country wide" noodles from Kountry Kitchen)
Freshly grated Parmesan (Bring out the good ol' green canister;))
Preheat oven to 325°F. Liberally salt and pepper the pork roast. Add olive oil and butter to large Dutch oven and heat over medium-high until butter melts, but does not burn. Add pork roast to pan and brown on all sides, about 8-10 minutes in all. I salt and peppered the roast and put it in the crockpot on low at 7:00 am.Around noon, I sauteed 1/2 onion and one large clove of garlic in olive oil and butter. I then Add tomatoes, wine, thyme, oregano, and hot sauce and bring to a boil. Cover, and put in oven. Braise for 3-4 hours, turning every hour or so. I poured this mixture over the roast and kept it on low in the crockpot for 5 hours. Add more liquid (water, wine, or tomato sauce) if needed. (The liquid should come to about 1/3 of the way up the pork.) Meat is done when it’s practically falling apart. Put on a cutting board and pull it apart with two forks, then add back to pot and stir. Cook 1 to 2 pounds pasta according to package directions. When it’s is ready, put into individual bowls and top with ragu and lots of Parm.
Object: Guess the many reasons why Liza hates this commercial so very, very much.
Prize: An autographed picture of me holding a half watermelon in front of my mouth as I prance around a dinner party at a house I would never be invited to...while onlookers give each other piggyback rides and marvel at how hilarious we all are.
**I'm not giving you the answers. Provide your guesses in the comment section.
One of the reasons I enjoy Dinner: A Love Story so much is that Rosenstrach masterfully keeps one foot in a very cosmopolitan magazine/food culture/intellectual world and yet also dangles the other in the suburban daily grind where most of us actually live. She never suggests that missing family dinners every now and then will lead to crackhead kids. She admits weaknesses, whether it is mediocre grilling skills or moments of kitchen trickery. She would not laugh if her two daughters ran cupcakes across her shirt.
A couple of passages to demonstrate the "realness" I appreciate... "Disclaimer: You may catch me referring to certain family dinner scenarios, such as having two working parents and two kids under two, as not merely problematic but also 'soul crushing' and 'harrowing.'" ***
"We made the mistake of sending out invitations to our Eighth Annual Holiday Party (in 2004) with 'Kids Are Welcome!' across the bottom of the card. It was our second holiday party in our new house, but the year before, we kept the guest list manageable and Abby was only two months old so it was easy to pass her around like a football to anyone who would take her. The next year, though, we thought it would be 'fun' to invite families. ... There was, of course, one small problem with this theory: Abby had just celebrated her first birthday and her idea of hanging out with friends was to hang around my neck and cry if I tried to have a conversation with my friends. Not that this was even a possibility considering that my friends who had brought their kids looked just as relaxed and festive as I felt.
That was the first time I learned the rule that when entertaining, one kid under five counts for five times as many adults in terms of volume and energy - and I couldn't hack it. It was our Eighth and Final Holiday Party." $.02: I hope all you parents out there (who I'm confident are wonderful parents) don't waste time guilting yourself for occasionally leaving the kids out. ***
One of my favorite ideas and pictures in the book is found a mere 21 pages in and captures a glimpse of a cabinet door in Rosenstrach's own kitchen. She used the space to hand-write some of the recipes that hold special significance to her family, recipes that they frequently cook, recipes that remind her of funny moments in their lives.
Because I'm renting my house, I opted for an improvised version of this strategy. I went through my favorite recipe box and pulled those cards that do the very same things for me: recipes that make me smile because they remind me of particular people, events, or moments in my life and/or recipes that show up on my menus on a fairly regular basis. I also decided to put one new one up there each week as an encouraging push to try something "out of the box." Yes, that was a horrible pun.
*Visit Jenny Rosenstrach's blog here for more kitchen/dinner ideas.
Basic Vinaigrette (p. 163)
1 tbsp. Dijon mustard
4 tbsp. red or white wine vinegar
Squeeze of honey
Squeeze of fresh lemon
Salt and pepper
Chopped fresh herbs (I used golden oregano, rosemary, and basil)
1/2 c. good-quality olive oil
1 large butternut squash, cooked and pureed, about 1 1/2 cups pureed squash
1 cup light brown sugar, firmly packed
3 large eggs
3/4 cup evaporated milk or half-and-half
1 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon melted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
To cook squash:
Cut the squash in half lengthwise; remove stem and scoop out the seeds. Place the squash, cut side down, on a foil-lined oiled baking pan; add about 1/2 cup of water to the pan. Cover loosely with foil and bake at 400° for 45 to 55 minutes, or until the squash is tender and can be easily pierced with a fork. Let cool completely then peel and mash or puree the squash or put it through a food mill. Measure 1 1/2 cups of the squash and set aside.
Reduce oven to 350° F and position an oven rack in the center of the oven. In a mixing bowl with electric mixer, beat the squash with the brown sugar. Add eggs, evaporated milk, spices salt, flour, butter, and vanilla. Beat until well blended. Pour the filling into the chilled pie and place on the center oven rack. Bake for 45 to 55 minutes, or until set. Check after about 35 minutes and loosely set a ring of foil or a pie crust protector over the browned crust so it won't get too dark. When the filling is set, transfer the pie to a rack to cool. Serve just warm or at room temperature with a dollop of whipped topping or whipped cream.
I sit before
my computer with a bitter taste in my mouth. Why? Because the taste of eating
my own words is pretty hard to swallow.When I was “in my 20s,” as I love to say, I used to hear friends a few
years older talk about how bad it was to be in their 30s.I would roll my eyes and think “what a bunch
of crap.”Well, I can testify that it
indeed is not crap.Rather, it is the
sad state that I currently reside in and do not enjoy!
The irony of
life does not escape me.Recently Liza
asked me to do a Pillow Book entry and I asked her for a prompt.One of her suggestions was “Why getting older
is emotionally hard even in your 30s.” I have been giving it quite a bit of
thought over the last week or so and then it became clear to me this week.
Let me
preface this by taking one of Liza’s favorite lines: “This is not a woe is me,
pity party” entry.Rather a form of
therapy, venting, personal revelation in my life.
I have been
struggling with health issues for about a year now.After a year of being scoped, stuck, and
embarrassed beyond reason, I found out on Wednesday that I have moderate to
severe Chron’s Disease.I went to the
IBD clinic at Vanderbilt and their “team” reviewed all my records and dropped
the bomb on me.
It was quite
an interesting experience.As I said,
they have a team approach so I met with a psychiatrist, registered dietitian,
physician’s assistant, and the gastroenterologist. The joke at work was who
would have the most fun with me: the shrink or the dietitian.Well, they both humbled my butt pretty
good.
The ultra
skinny dietitian came in and rocked my world.Now, most of you know that I was raised in Burkesville with my mama’s
country cooking.Every morning was
bacon, eggs, biscuits, and chocolate gravy.Dinners were fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and mac-n-cheese.This lady looked at my “daily food log” and
said “Wow, you are killing yourself.You
have to change everything.” So she spent the next 45 minutes telling me that I
can’t eat anything that I really like.I
looked over at dad and he looked at the ceiling.Now, I ask you...what do you have left when
you take out: dairy, spicy, fried, roughage, fiber, and alcohol?I tell you, A REALLY PISSED OF KRISTI!I think I could have taken anything but losing
my Lifesavers wintergreen mints and my margaritas.However, she explained that I really needed
to do this ASAP until they could get me on my medications.Her recommendation was that I do this the
rest of my life.Yea, lady…keep on
dreaming.I had to lock the liquor
cabinet to keep myself out and can’t drive past my favorite Mexican
restaurant.Now, this is funny to a
point.But, really it’s not.It’s just another reason getting older
sucks!The days of shoveling down double
cheeseburgers and cheese sticks at the Pool Room are gone.No more going to Mexican restaurants and
eating two baskets of chips and a pitcher of margaritas.It is cruel and unusual punishment and to be
honest, really pisses me off!I don’t
have a lot of vices so I wish to hell I could eat and drink what I want, but it
seems it is not meant to be.
I guess I
will end with the shrink.He said a lot
of things, most of them true.I won’t delve
into the ultra-personal stuff, but the overall message was that I need to learn
how to relax, and I need to stop developing a negative self image.I explained that I feel like I carry so much
on my shoulders I feel like I can’t get it all done and will let my family
down.I also explained that my mind
never stops running.I can’t go to sleep
and I can’t even enjoy my time alone any more.His solution was to remember a place (or two) that I can picture myself
in and go there.Imagine the nature and let
all my thoughts fade away and just relax.I laughed in his face!I told him
it had been so long since I relaxed I couldn’t remember a calm place to just
“be.”He said that was a problem.Then I realized I do have places….I have my
farm in Burkesville and I have one of the most beautiful lakes and state parks
in the world.
So, my mission
for Labor Day is to try and relax.I
plan to walk my farm and remember the simple days of my childhood.To take the time to remember what it was like
to be a little girl holding her daddy’s hand walking to the back of the
farm.To be the little girl that played
in mud puddles (instead of with dolls), had runaway horse rides, and drank from
the outside faucet with her dog, King.I
need to find the quite place of happiness.Being a mother, wife, teacher, daughter, and friend carries a great deal
of weight.Most time I feel like I am on
my knees, rather than feet.That day
sitting in the shrink’s office I realized that I had to find my feet
again.I want to find the carefree
teenager that would buy a dollar float at the Dollar Store and go float on Dale
Hollow Lake with Leslie all day.Or the
college girl that went to the Lenny Kravitz/Black Crowe’s concert with Liza,
Lindsey, Leslie, Mandy, and John Eric and tried to smuggle a fifth of peach
schnapps in and got busted!
I long for
the days of my 20s and will testify that 32 is not all it is cracked up to
be.Every year, I find something else
wrong with my body. Nerves, patience, and humor seem to be fading.But as the good doctor said, I have to find a
way to relax.So, one song has stuck in
my head the rest of the week.It has
become my new mantra:“I got my toes in
the water, ass in the sand.Not a worry
in the world, cold beer in my hand. Life was good today.”
I could never explain how much I love Lenny Kravitz.
*** A Lady Who Thinks She is Thirty By: Ogden Nash (American poet known for comedic and silly/unconventional elements; wrote primarily between 1930 and 1970)
Unwillingly Miranda wakes, Feels the sun with terror, One unwilling step she takes, Shuddering to the mirror.
Miranda in Miranda's sight Is old and gray and dirty; Twenty-nine she was last night; This morning she is thirty.
Shining like the morning star, Like the twilight shining, Haunted by a calendar, Miranda is a-pining.
Silly girl, silver girl, Draw the mirror toward you; Time who makes the years to whirl Adorned as he adored you.
Time is timelessness for you; Calendars for the human; What's a year, or thirty, to Loveliness made woman?
Oh, Night will not see thirty again, Yet soft her wing, Miranda; Pick up your glass and tell me, then-- How old is Spring, Miranda?
*** I agree with Kristi. Whoever said "your 30s are the best years of your life" was completely insane. At least I always have Lenny.
"I don't think you have to be in your heart's song. I think you just have to be where you are."
***
This will be the last time I mention Writing Down the Bones for a while. After spending months reading and rereading passages that resonate with me, I'm finally ready to loan it out (to one of the best writers I know by the way), to get it out of my sight. For the longer it sits on my nightstand, the more I feel like it weighs on me, pulling me into an analytical world from which I need to be jarred from time to time. I am invariably a ponderer, a wayward wonderer who is constantly battling the "why"s and "how"s of the "what"s. Sometimes, though, I just need to act. Instead of reading about writing habits, practices, and motivations, I need to just pick up the damn pen.
...
But not without first sharing a passage with you from the Afterword ("An Interview with the Author").
Q: Do you think there's a connection between place and the inspiration to write? I think land and environment are very important. ...But I don't think you have to be in a gorgeous place to write. I don't think you have to be in your heart's song. I think you just have to be where you are. In other words, if you're in Cincinnati, if you can really eat Cincinnati, know the streets and the weather, the trees, how the light looks at the end of your workday, that's what's important. Now, for me, I had a great love for Taos. ... And it was actually painful because I couldn't always be there....And yet, Taos was my passion. But once I got to live there full-time, as I do now, then I remembered...when you know a place well, it's a place. You might love it deeply, but it's a place that has good and bad things. But having this place gives you a freedom to go anyplace and appreciate and love other places. Which wasn't true for me before, because I was always fighting where I was, because I wanted to be in Taos.
Don't do that to yourself - "I am here, but I should be there." It was torture for me. Wherever you are is the place to be writing from. Don't use the excuse that you are not in the right place. There is no perfect place. Just pick up your pen, record the details of where you are."
This is exactly how I feel about Cumberland County (or, at least today it is). I'm not sure I've ever allowed myself to really "be" in another city in my adult life, because I was constantly romanticizing what it would be like to live in the place where the rest of my family shared impromptu weekday suppers, where I could drive Dad's truck on familiar backroads, where people knew my name when I checked out at the grocery store. Now that I am here full-time, though, I battle frustrations that rarely crossed my mind when I envisioned the quaint, whimsically-charming, cedar shake house I would build on Turner Farm. Sometimes I long for anonymity rather than first-name-basis Houchens encounters. I miss having opportunities to take any random skill-based class that has piqued my interest. I wish I knew more left-leaning, Kerouac-reading, hippish spirits.
Yet, even in those moments when my wandering urge is the strongest, I know, without fail, that I have a profound love for this place, a place I embrace and a place I push against daily. And, that sense of place is something for which I am grateful, something that will hopefully allow me to "be" wherever I may ultimately find myself. And, you know what? "Where I find myself" might be exactly three miles east of Marrowbone, seven miles west of Burkesville. Maybe that cedar shake house will go up next year. I honestly have no idea.
If it's not, however, at least it won't be something that I am constantly fighting against, something to which I'm comparing everything else. Having a genuine love of a particular place may help me find a home somewhere completely foreign to me, somewhere completely foreign to that fundamental place, but where I know how the light looks at the end of the workday. It is a understanding that grounds this not-really-purposive, not-really-accidental drifter, the one who dreams of writing and a cafe and freedom and finishing the dissertation and figuring out her passions of priority.
I truly wish for all of you the ability to "be" where you are. Trust me, I know it's easier said than done.
For filling:
Whisk 1/2 cup sugar, eggs, egg yolk, and flour in medium bowl. Bring milk and coconut to simmer in medium saucepan over medium heat. Gradually add hot milk mixture to egg mixture, whisking constantly. Return to same saucepan; cook until pastry cream thickens and boils, stirring constantly, about 4 minutes. Remove from heat. Mix in vanilla and coconut extracts. Transfer pastry cream to medium bowl. Press plastic wrap directly onto surface to prevent formation of skin. Chill until cold, at least 2 hours and up to 1 day. Transfer filling to crust. Cover; chill overnight.
For topping:
Toast coconut in heavy small skillet over medium heat until lightly browned, stirring occasionally, about 3 minutes. Cool completely. Using electric mixer, beat cream, sugar, and coconut extract in medium bowl until peaks form. Spread whipped cream all over top of filling. Sprinkle evenly with toasted coconut. (Can be prepared 4 hours ahead. Cover and refrigerate.) Serve cold.
Just call me F.D.R.
(the screen is supposed to be black)
I originally did this: 1) because I stalk Vivian Swift and want to one day be as interesting as her ("she" is probably grammatically correct, but it sounds ridiculous); 2) I miss my girlfriends and had an idea that we should send each other videos of our everyday moments so it would seem like we were just sharing a cup of coffee or something; 3) What else ya gonna do at 4:18?
Tell me which part of the day makes YOU feel most settled.
Coffee, Dad's Centre College sweatshirt, the moon, and Willie Geist: recipe for a good morning.
_______________________________________________________
It isn't just the perfect "morning time," however, that makes me feel most settled. Sometimes beautiful weather, unexpected produce deliveries, and good conversations keep my restlessness in check, too.
Yesterday was a day I would like to think, "looks like me."
A sincere "thank you" to all of those who helped remind me how very lovely my life is...
Carmelita Smith: for not getting mad at me when I dropped my camera on your foot while trying to get pictures of Chris Scott's tomatoes at the Farmers Market....and for suggesting I put sugar in my cornmeal mix before dipping my eggplant.
Minit Mart coffee: you were good yesterday.
David Arms & Ed Peretto: David brought me tomatoes to the library, Ed, watermelon, peppers, and the Biography of Malcolm X (we had talked about it the previous day; oh, and if you get the Cumberland County News, notice that Ed is our "Patron of the Week.":)). More importantly, thank you for interesting conversations about books, small town politics, and/or how good "fried stuff" is. I'm always glad to see you all walk in the door.
My mother: She and I decided to go to Lake Cumberland Winery in Monticello yesterday for their "Grand Bottle Opening." I can't imagine a more perfect way to spend a Saturday: music, crafts, a beautiful vineyard and winery, wine tastings, and funny, funny friends, some of whom I've known for years, some who I met only yesterday. There's no one else I would've rather spent the day with. My mom is laid-back, foolish, and completely endearing. And Jim Brady, Gary Haddle, and both of your respective families....thanks for reminding me what neat people I am fortunate to know.
***
It was just one of those days that made me stop, pull my head out of my ass, and say to myself, "You need to stop wondering and complaining so often. You have a lovely life filled with interesting people. Sometimes that is enough."
Nothing contemplative today; just some things I'm loving this morning...
1) Seeing my sister so happy. Her classroom is fun, inviting and crafty cool (including a poster with dancing teeth so she can mark which month her respective Montgomery County first graders lose their first tooth). Her and Zach's apartment is the perfect "first place," full of personal touches, yet classically streamlined and "real house like" too (it's obvious that two adults live there who enjoy things other than cornhole and drinking).
She found a guy willing to have a Chopped showdown with her sister, who will tell her when she is getting on his nerves, and who has already fixed her french toast in bed. And he's getting a girl who is confidently herself all the time, who will tell him when he is getting on her nerves, and who knew the life they were building together was more important than staying in the familiar. Good for them.
Their first place!
He's smiling now. Wait until Lydia and Adam tell him my appetizer is better.
I told them I was calling bull shit on this though.
I love the artwork they did together!
2) When I leave a movie confident I just saw something impressive, something that mattered, something that made me feel; and something that I'm still thinking about the next day (even if I have no idea what to think about it).
3) Independent CD shops that have an "Americana" section. I love CD Central in Lexington; I still love buying actual CDs; I love the selection I got yesterday: the newest albums from Alabama Shakes, Justin Townes Earle, Regina Spektor, Citizen Cope, and the Punch Brothers.
4) How excited people are about the Olympics...even BBC announcers.
Stuffed Banana Peppers
Cut the tops off the banana peppers and make an incision down one side of each. Clean them out. Mix softened cream cheese and finely chopped jalenpeno peppers. Stuff this into the banana peppers. Cook bacon for a few minutes in the microwave. Drain. Wrap 1-2 slices of bacon around the peppers to "seal" them and secure with a toothpick. Bake in the oven or put on the grill (preferable).
