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.

Menus and grocery lists, December 31, 2013

Across the continent, high above one of the world's most wonderful cities, a team is hard at work.

Hard at work, and having a ball.

It's New Year's Eve, the biggest winter festival of them all- and maybe the biggest winter festival of all time.  Ye Olde Norse partied like only Vikings can for the 12 days of Yule; the Scots got so silly with celebrating that the 12 days after Christmas were once called "daft days", while modern Scots begin the carousing of Hogmany at the stroke of midnight tonight. And who knows what kind of crazy crowds gathered in ancient Rome for "The day of the birth of the unconquered sun"?

Probably not this crazy.
It takes a sober head to say
 "Happy Dies Natalis Solis Invicti everyone!"

All through history, all over the Northern Hemisphere, people gather together and light things, drop things and throw things in the jubilant certainty that even the longest night will somehow surrender to some sort of morning.

In New York, since 1907, a huge ball is lit and dropped on the eager crowds below; citizens of Atlanta drop a peach

and make a very large cobbler
with the left overs.

Those in Mobile Alabama (are they Mobiles? Mobilians?) drop a Moon Pie

And in Brasstown, NC, the old year ends with the drop of of a well lit possum-

And the New Year starts pretty miserably,
if you happen to be the possum.

Yep, it's New Year's Eve, the night when all across the world, all sorts of things

get lit and drop.

Those of us who feel like cooking or eating tomorrow have a wealth of traditions to feast on- but it's more than traditional- it's symbolic. If Christmas food is about love and family, New Year's food is about luck and fortune. It's a dozen warming potfuls of good wishes.
Enough good wishes to feed us happily for at least a week- here's how we'll start:

Wednesday: Good Luck Greens, Peas and Ham

Ham, because pigs are always moving forward, greens to symbolize paper money, peas to symbolize coins and as a reminder that Southerners are resourceful enough to make dinner out of what some consider animal feed.
Two thirds of our children will begin the new year at my mother's house, and it's my hope to join them there. She's promised a traditional New Year's feast, and she does blackeyed peas and ham like only a true Belle of the South can do them. The woods, my mom, my kids, and great food that I don't have to cook. What a way to start the year!

Thursday: Roast Pork Loin and salad

More lucky pork, but this time a low sodium, low fat pork loin. The recipe claims to be fast, cheap, easy, and company worthy- could it possibly be true? I'll be using leftover pork loin to provide some protein to an otherwise vegetarian meal on Sunday, and freezing any leftover leftovers for a stirfry next Monday or Tuesday.



Friday: Slow Cooker Lentil Stew

Little coin shaped lentils to wish you a year of absolutely zero money worries. And at about $1.50 a bowl, a lentil stew starts delivering on that wish with the first bite. I've cooked about a bajillion pots of beans, but never in a crock pot, and becoming better pals with my slow cooker is one of my small and attainable goals of the year.  Lentils, the fast food of the legume world, will be the first step. If you want to make this a 15 minute stir up, use canned lentils and frozen veggies.
( Note to self: before they're mixed with the rest of the stew veggies, spoon out about half of the cooked lentils and set them aside for Sunday.)



Saturday: Spaghetti with Red Sauce and meatballs

Long noodles for a long life. Well, technically, that edible wish belongs to the Chinese New Year- our Gregorian Calendar packs in the wishes for prosperity, and neglects to wish you years and years in which to enjoy it. If you want to play the long noodles= longevity game, try slurping up the longest noodle you can without cutting it or letting it break. See? you're enjoying life more already!  I've linked to a Gordon Ramsay meatball recipe, but a busy Saturday may dictate a meatless meal, or frozen meatballs, or chicken sausage.



Sunday: Warm Lentil Salad with Butternut Squash

What a beautiful salad! We may turn this into another vegetarian dinner, or I may warm a few slices of pork tenderloin to serve with it.
Go ahead and cook an entire butternut- tomorrow night you can put it together with Saturday's red sauce in this fantastic looking butternut squash lasagna.



So there's a week of meals filled with all my wishes for you and those you love- prosperity, courage, health, good fortune.
That's five times the wishing power of a single New Year's Day meal,
and they deliver all my hopes

that whether you partied hard,

or not at all,

 the morning you woke to

was calm

and happy

and unlonely.

And I hope that all of the loads

you've carried through the 

year just past

become noticeably, definitely, 

lighter.

Because I know

that you, at your calm and happy ease

are quite capable

of setting the New Year on fire.

menus, November 27,2012

This gray spirit, yearning in desire

to follow knowledge like a sinking star

beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

That's Tennyson, from his poem Ulysses, an epic that began working on me...oh...32 years ago. And it's not done with me yet I suppose-  not until I've done with letting curiosity chart the day's course. So, while you take Sir Alfred's glorious words and plan your next journey, or degree, or bungy jump, I'm going to take them to dinner.

I've been noticing a sad and unhealthy lack of vegetable shaped nutrition in our diet, in the last month or so, and I've figured out why- I'm summer saladed out, and I know relatively little about winter veggies. So. Today I Learned.

A thing that intrigues me:
how many of these winter veggies grow underground.
As if they're hibernating. I rather like hibernating in winter too. 

Today I learned (thanks Dr Kermani for so patiently answering my food questions)(heh heh. my doctor is patient with me.) that although most summer vegetables pale in color are pale in nutrients, winter veggies are different. Sure, kale, carrots, yams and all those intensely colored things put some really powerful good stuff inside you, but even the palest of them all- cauliflower- is broccoli's equal nutritionally! So interesting! This means that the veggies that are in season when we're all most likely to be fighting off illness are the very veggies that fight illness best. This is so cool!

sigh. my brain's exploded again.
one moment while I tape it back together.

 So, to satisfy curiosity, I turned the kitchen (once again) into a learning lab. I wanted to learn about greens- those leafy things that every one else in the south seems to have grown up knowing all about, while I don't know kale from collard. I bought mustard greens, turnip greens, collard greens and kale and decided to cook them all exactly the same way- sliced thin, dunked in boiling water and then sauteed with onions and salt. Here they are:

left to right: mustard greens, kale (identified by kaylee for any fans of the late, great show
Firefly) turnip greens, and collard greens

 here they are being chiffonaded
(gosh I love that word)

 and cooked.

 the results? Strongest flavor, mustard greens. Mildest flavor? Turnip greens. Strongest texture? Collards. And kale was just really nice.
So, that's the learning- let's put it to use, shall we?

Wednesday: Chicken with mustard greens,lemon and olives
I've been combing the internet for Christmas season compliant recipes- sustaining, inexpensive and ready in 30 minutes. This is the first of them. I'll be cooking some extra chicken for tomorrow night's chili and Saturday's soup.

Thursday: Buffalo Chicken Chili
I'm curious lately about chili... but more on that next week. I've been a fan of this website's approach to cooking for a long time- if you've got time, read around it a little. I'm pretty sure you'll like it too, and I'm pretty sure this recipe will be a winner.

Friday: Polenta with artichokes and sundried tomatoes
Alot of ingredients, I know, but I think it'll come together quickly. I'll be using frozen, not canned, artichoke hearts, and the sundried tomatoes in oil that are currently in the fridge.  This'll be a meatless meal for us, but if you're cooking for hardcore carnivores, I think a simple pan-fried pork chop with this would be amazing.

Saturday: Chicken parmigiano soup
Another faster-than-fish-sticks recipe, made even faster if you've got leftover cooked chicken in the fridge.

Sunday: Lentil and Squash soup
I'm still recovering from a Thanksgiving gluten hangover, so it'll be just soup for me, or maybe I'll try these sweet potato oven fries. It's quite possible though that the home audience will be getting a nice grilled cheese with this.


You'll be careful, won't you, with the Tennyson poem? I recited the wanderlusty thing over all my children when they were small and now not one of them lives closer than 4 hours drive away.
I painted it on my  daughter's bedroom furniture, and it turned out to be a part of home that she'll carry with her forever.

and I get to be the one who gets to be the mum
of all three of their wandering, knowledge-seeking selves.
I'm pretty sure I couldn't be more grateful about that.

Besides hoping that you're very careful indeed about how you handle dangerous poetry.....
 I hope that this week, if you're spirit is light and happy, and especially if your spirit is very gray, you'll lift your head, and see some small bright star of knowledge worth following.
I hope that you chase it, that bright bit of knowledge about the world you inhabit. I hope you catch it before it slips below the horizon and that you hold it close. I hope that (even if it burns a bit) you  hold it close enough and long enough to realize that you- you yourself, are becoming luminous.