weekend update January 5 2014

In the depths of winter, I finally learned

 that within me there was an invincible summer.

Albert Camus

Darkness has a bad reputation. Over the course of linguistic evolution, it's become the closet into which we shove all of the things we fear and dislike-selfishness, gloominess, evil, despair- they're all called, well, dark. 

This is perhaps a little unfair.

I mean, when we want applaud something that is really fast, we say it moves at the speed of light- even though the thing that is really really really fast is darkness, because no matter how fast the light is, 

dark is always ahead of it, waiting for it to catch up.
Granted, "faster than the speed of dark" 
just doesn't have the right ring to it.

We speak with admiration of those who walk in the light, though real awe ought to be reserved for anyone who can walk in the dark without stubbing a toe

or stepping on a Lego.

And we've been told, "better to light a candle than curse the darkness", but there are quite a few of us who have endured hours of outages this winter who know that if you're decently clever with matches and indecently clever with cursing,

there's no reason you can't do both at the same time.

Such were the thought clouds drifting across the old brainscape as the sun set, giving the first evening of the year all its pink and gold best, and the stars twinked into place above the pine trees of my mother's East Texas home on New Year's day night.  The grownups otherwise known as our children were there, and would be playing with fireworks later that night.  The thought occurred that as they lit the fuses and ran, they'd be joining the human hordes of millennia in celebrating light. Or darkness. Or both.
 We humans have a way of pushing back against the dark in spectacular ways; we regulate it with daylight savings time, we whistle in it's face (literally and metaphorically) and in the dead of winter, when the longest nights of the year are throwing their deepest and darkest into the effort, all over the world we hold festivals of light.

This sort of thing makes me really fond of humanity.
(and gives me yet another dream travel itinerary.)

Those were the thoughts, and they would've gone on to poke under dark metaphorical rocks and peek at the beasties that haunt dark metaphorical closets, but there was a very nice smell doing a very nice job of wafting from the house, and it pulled me by the nose straight to a great New Year's Day dinner.

That's the ham my Mother can bake.
Every bit as juicy and tender as it looks.
someday, when I grow up, I may be able to do that too.

That was the start of five days of food with which we wish for a Happy New Year- here are the things worth trying again:

This slow cooker lentil stew was really great!

Upsides: 

 Easy to pull together, a relatively fast cook (about 6 hours on low).

A fantastic buttery smell that filled the house (how did that happen without butter in the recipe?) 

A super rich flavor, and

Awesome healthful greatness.

Not quite downsides but things to nonetheless be aware of:

This recipe makes mass quantities- be ready to either feed a crowd, or stash away leftovers.

The veggies and the greens cook together with the lentils, which deals the proverbial cabosh to any plans to use some of the cooked lentils for another meal. Unless the other meal is leftover lentil stew.

Next, the roast pork loin stuffed with figs and herbs. And I quote from the recipe: 

"We make this recipe a lot at home. It has the ‘I slaved in the kitchen all day’ look, but really takes no time at all."

No time at all. Hmmm.
Define time.
Now define "no time at all".

I will concede that this recipe is a good time traveler. That is, if you want to, you can make the stuffing on one day, butterfly and pound and stuff the meat on the next day, and roast it right before dinner on the third day.

So no, you will not have "slaved in the kitchen all day", but you will noticeably work for parts of at least two days. Or for a several (or a few, or some, I'm never sure which is more)  hours on one day.

And you will have to figure out what to do if you don't have a mortar and pestle (hint: forget it). And you will have to remember where you put that roll of string.

It's a great tasting, beautiful recipe, but if you think that "no time at all" means that you can come home from work at 5 and have this dinner ready by 7, 

you are in for a very nasty surprise.

Here it is on a plate with Alton Brown's garlic mashed potatoes (yum!) and roasted pumpkin:

It's really kinda impressive, and that sausage and fig stuffing!
Wow!

Pork, noodles, dried beans and greens- edible and substantial wishes for serving after serving of good things ahead.

And that's my wish for you too.

Not just the food wishes- 

not just health and good fortune 

for the whole year, but for

This week, as the dreary weather

wears on

and the long nights wrap themselves

around your shortened days,

I hope you find within yourself,

shining in the middle of the darkness

the love and wonder and courage

that form the steady glow

of your own

invincible summer.