Snow days

Here in NC, if there is a “snow event,” things tend to shut down quickly. The roads are not easily cleared and there are too few plows and salt trucks. So here we are, at home, staring at a blanket of snow outside.

The last snow day I remember was in1991, the day I was supposed to get my braces off. My orthodontist called me himself to announce the bad news that none of his staff could get to the office to yank those dreaded things off my teeth. This weekend is far superior to that experience. We haven’t done much. But that’s the beauty of it.

Our one major excursion was a walk to the local market in search of hot chocolate. We were not the only people to venture into the world, but there were very few signs of life outside. By the time we reached the market it was 5pm, an hour past the store’s appointed severe weather closing time. We didn’t care – hot chocolate is not a necessity. At least, it didn’t feel like one at the time. Something came over us on the way home and we decided to run the last few blocks. It inspired a perfect giddiness. Something had cracked open the normal order of things and now almost everyone was inside with no plans to leave the house for days. Being outside felt like silliness itself. Our lungs filled with cold air, we laughed our way back inside.

The cats are logging some serious lap time. Quick meals have been in order, to maximize the time spent with those little guys and huddled under blankets. Strangely enough, not all the meals we’ve been enjoying are served hot. Today I wanted my tuna and chickpea salad for lunch. I stumbled on the idea for it months ago after having an impressive tuna and white bean salad at the wonderful La Osteria in San Francisco. Fresh out of white beans, I experimented with chickpeas. I also swapped out the balsamic vinegar in their version for lemon juice. The results were good – I had created a light, bright and filling meal. But something was missing. Every time I made it I wanted to add a depth of flavor; it needed a darker, almost dirty note. This weekend, my mind cleared from traipsing through the snow, I finally hit that note with the simplest of additions: freshly ground pepper. Finely ground, coarsely ground: I don’t care. But freshly ground pepper matters. It has a meaty flavor, deep and dark on the back of the tongue in addition to the spark that we associate with pepper. Don’t be shy with it.

Tuna Chickpea Salad with Lemon & Capers

Ingredients:

1 6-ounce can tuna, packed in water, drained
1 15-ounce can garbanzo beans, rinsed & drained
2-3 stalks celery, chopped fine
1-2 Tbsp capers
pinch red pepper flakes
1-2 Tbsp olive oil
juice of ½ to ¾ lemon
freshly ground pepper, to taste

Directions:

Add tuna, garbanzo beans, celery, capers (to taste), and red pepper flakes to a medium-sized mixing bowl. Add 1 Tbsp. of olive oil and the juice of ½ lemon to mixing bowl and combine all ingredients. Taste salad to see if it needs more olive oil, lemon juice, or other seasoning. Cover bowl and chill for 15-20 minutes before serving.

Makes 2 large or 3 small servings. Salad will keep in the refrigerator for 4-5 days.

Best enjoyed under a blanket with a cat on your lap.

Mollie and Florence

Lately my moments at home have been dominated by the impending reality that my grandmother is not long for this world. She is my mother’s mother, Florence. I did not have the luxury of seeing her very often, as I grew up in Michigan and she lives in Portland, OR.

When I moved to San Francisco and the distance to Portland was shortened, we were able to spend time together on Thanksgiving weekends for 5 years running. During those visits she taught me how to make pastry crust and properly assemble a killer apple pie. She once made me an unforgettable meal of Pacific-caught salmon, asparagus, and spinach salad with her famous bacon vinaigrette. I can still recall choking on the vinegar fumes because I breathed in too quickly as I devoured the salad. We would always make one wild card dessert to round out the traditional Thanksgiving apple, apple-mince and pumpkin pies. One year it was a coconut cream pie to which my grandmother added almond extract, a trick she had learned from the cook at her high school cafeteria. Another year she indulged me in my desire to make a pumpkin cheesecake served with whip cream and caramel sauce. My grandmother always wanted things done her way in the kitchen and wasn’t easy to please. But she taught me so much in that kitchen: basic baking skills, family recipes, and an approach to cooking that values tradition, variety, joy, and always learning new things.

I’d like to say that I’ve been making a bunch of pies and other stuff to nurture my sense of connection to my Grandma. But I haven’t. I’ve been sitting on the couch and eating too many chips. So many, Kevin had to take the bag away. Luckily he has been on the couch with me, lending me his shoulder as I feel the pain of being about to lose my Grandma.

He’s been listening to stories about my grandmother. I explained to him that Florence did not know how to cook when she married my grandfather, Adam. Adam was a particular challenge in the food arena, given his juvenile diabetes. My mother recently told me that my grandmother often served wine jellies for dessert at their dinner parties, because they have a very low sugar content. Florence would never allow the guests to help with the dishes, because my grandparents savored those moments of reminiscing the evening’s socializing while tidying up in the kitchen together.

It’s helped me to tell the stories, since I’m not at a point in the grieving process where I can honor my Grandma in the kitchen. This weekend I’ll be making a Bolognese sauce for a hearty winter spaghetti dinner and freezing some sauce for later use. We’ll be eating well and filling the apartment with the aroma of onions and tomatoes and that deep, almost caramel scent that results from slow cooking.

As I picture us enjoying the meal and then clearing away the plates, I can see one way in which I am strongly connected to my grandmother right now. The stories I told Kevin made me realize just how amazing an influence my grandmother has had on me, down to my understanding of married domestic life. It may have taken a while for me to find the right man, but I managed to pick one that I can enjoy washing dishes with while we discuss the evening’s happy moments.

a celebration of peanut butter and honey

This morning I bit into a celebratory breakfast of toast spread with peanut butter and a generous drizzle of honey. I have good news: one of my part-time jobs is now becoming a full-time job. There is even the possibility (though not a guarantee) that I will become a permanent employee, with benefits. But here is the true, immediate payoff: I will now have two days off in a row to rub together, every week. Insert several thousand exclamation points here.

While this blog is dedicated to sharing my domestic life, it bears mention that lately I’ve been coming to the conclusion my home life and my work life are inextricably linked. They are separate worlds, but what I need from my time at home definitely changes with each shift in my work.

What I needed last night, as I tried to wrap my mind around the impending change, was to let myself feel how exhausted I’ve been. Kevin and I had enjoyed a poor man’s feast out at our favorite local Mexican restaurant. We came home stuffed full of corn chips, pork, and salsa verde. With my belly so abused, it didn’t take long to feel the five months of six-day work weeks add up. I made it to the couch, but it was unfathomable to sit upright. Two cushions joined forces to stabilize my fetal position as I reflected upon just how much work-related desperation I was trying to sublimate with this blog.

When time for bed approached, I pried myself off the couch clumsily. As is my routine, I navigated my way to the kitchen sink and reached for the contents of my lunch bag. Carefully I washed my thermos, my Tupperware and my Sigg bottle. I cleared the grinds out of my Bialetti stove-top espresso maker and rinsed it clean. Usually, I dread these tasks. They mean that I have been at work this day and I will be at work the next. But last night I was surprised. Somehow I felt lighter.

My dreams are a blur except for a snippet about an exercise I started doing to firm up my abs. I awoke disappointed that I hadn’t really done any exercises at all. But it was just a little easier to get out of bed today. My head immediately started filling with all these things I wanted to do, now that I will have more precious time at home. I was awash in images of roast chicken and chicken pot pie, ideas of learning how to put together a weekly meal plan, and a desire to start documenting the paper flowers I’m making for the wedding.

As I breathe deeper and acclimate to having more time in the domestic sphere, you can expect to find roast chickens and meal plans and handmade paper flowers here. In the mean time, I highly recommend a meal or snack of peanut butter and honey on toast. There is something so joyful and comforting about slightly melty peanut butter with a sticky glaze of honey on warm bread. Lingering over it this morning, my thoughts and plans faded into simple pleasure. My mind was clear and a smile materialized on my face. You may not have a radical shift in your work life to celebrate, but I’m sure you can find something to serve as an appropriate occasion.

purrs, lentils, and malbec

My apartment smells like butter and onions. I am drinking a rather satisfying glass of $5 Malbec during a lull in the tasks associated with my favorite lentil & chard recipe. The boy cat is purring up a storm on my chest. His affection has increased since we restricted the kitty bitties to a measured amount rather than the 24-hour buffet. I am still a little zonked from the 3 hours Kevin and I just spent at Crate & Barrel pouring over merchandise with discrimination and glee. Registering was our reward for getting out the save-the-date cards last week. They were designed, printed, stamped, and hand addressed all by us. Our house was quite a little Detroit-style assembly line last weekend. While that was good to get done, we definitely needed something involving scanners and cheese domes today.

You see, today is Sunday. It is the one day I do not work. So technically, it’s my fun day. I never thought it would be; that line in the song Manic Monday always rang hollow to me. Ever since I grasped the idea of there being seven days to the week, I have been aware of how absolutely distinct my associations are with each day. My brain even assigned each day a color. Monday is red – a bright red, the color of emergencies. That red taints Sunday, which is a kinda mellow, pumpkin-y orange. But here I am, loving Sunday up. The way I look at it, it’s pretty much my responsibility to get the most joy and relaxation out of Sundays as possible.

Enter the killer recipe I got from Cooks Illustrated for french green lentils with chard (and a second glass of wine). The only mistake the amazing folks at America’s Test Kitchen made was to use olive oil instead of butter. I will forgive them though, since the recipe comes from their The Best Light Recipe collection. Also, this recipe pre-dates the things we learned from Michael Pollan’s In Defense of Food, especially the part about full-fat dairy from pastured cows. My butter comes from Maple View Farms, and I can assure you that their cows are happy in the pasture. Here is my version of their fabulous lentils with chard:

Ingredients:

2 med. onions
2 bunches chard – green, red, rainbow – any will do
2 Tbsp. butter (preferably from local, pastured cows)
3.5 cups chicken or vegetable broth
2 cups Puy (French green) lentils
1 tsp. dried thyme
Juice of one lemon, or to taste
Salt, to taste

1) Chop the onions and place them in a dutch oven. Separate the chard leaves from the stems. Chop the chard stems and place them in the dutch oven along with the onion, 1 Tbsp. of the butter and 1 tsp. salt. Stir well, turn the heat up to medium, and cover. Stirring occasionally, cook until onion and chard stems have softened, about 10 minutes. Slice the chard leaves into 1.5 inch wide strips and set aside.

2) Add the broth (I used Better than Bullion No Chicken Base), lentils & thyme to the onion mixture. Bring to a boil, uncovered. Then cover & reduce the heat to low. Stirring occasionally, cook until the lentils are almost done – they will have the slightest bit of tooth to them. This should take around 35-40 minutes.

3) Remove the cover and add the chard leaves to the lentil mixture in several batches, stirring with each one. Allow lentils to cook for 8-10 minutes more, until they are properly tender. Take dutch oven off heat and add the lemon juice, remaining 1 Tbsp. of butter and salt to taste.

This makes about 6 generous entrée servings which freeze quite well. Given each one only has 1/3 a Tbsp. of butter and about 300 calories each, you are getting quite a healthy meal. If you want to make it part of a larger meal, decrease the serving size and serve the lentils with a nicely sautéed chicken breast or grilled pork sausage as well as a salad with garlicky balsamic vinaigrette.

And enjoy your Sunday!

The low down

The truth is, I need this blog. It’s a way to focus me, to ground me, to hone a practice, and become accountable to the parts of me that need much more than my default hurry-up-and-relax approach. You see, my life is teeming with life. Let’s start with the good stuff: I am getting married to an amazing man – Kevin - in June. North Carolina, my new home state, is a fabulous place to live. I am lucky enough to have 2 part-time jobs that are rife with wonderful co-workers. My fiancé and I have two adorable kittens. We are going to move to a fabulous house in Durham in April. We live close to his kind, thoughtful and generous parents. We already have friends in the area, which is an accomplishment and a blessing after only 5.5 months living here. The wedding we are planning is going to be awesomeness incarnate.

There is, of course, a whole set of negatives that go along with these positives (I am truly attempting not to whine here): The wedding planning and budget are big monsters. I am grieving for what I gave up in California - extraordinary friends, natural beauty everywhere, a lifestyle that did not require a car, and a strong sense of who I am in that context. I work 6-days a week for about a third of the pay I earned in San Francisco. The kittens cause adorable wreckage wherever they go. For now we live in an apartment that gets very little light, giving one the feeling of being in a shoe box with a few holes poked in either end. With our demanding schedules, we rarely have the time (or energy) to see family or friends.

So there it is, the low down on what is going on with my life. Whew! Are you exhausted just from reading it? When I got home from work yesterday I was very focused on the content of the paragraph immediately above. But with this blog in mind, I envisioned using my home life to create the kind of space I need to get back to appreciating the content of paragraph numero uno. What did I do? I cleaned the bathroom.

Backing up for a second: I am not the type of person that could ever be labeled a clean freak. There are certain things that I like a certain way, and I get a little rigid about them. But those are pretty few and far between – mostly just the bathroom cabinet and the fridge door. Oh, I should add the kitchen counter and the dish rack. Perhaps I’m being a little conservative here. Kevin could give you a more realistic account. But when it comes to the bathroom, as long as the stuff in the cabinet is organized, I can put up with a whole lot of mess. This high mess threshold is bad. Why? Because the litterbox is in there.

Let’s not go into the specifics of how gross a litterbox can make a bathroom. If you have an imagination like me, you are already picturing it. Sorry. Suffice to say, dirty litter even found its way into our bathtub. I saved that for last. I dug in, and methodically wiped away the grime that I’ve been pretending doesn’t bother me.

That’s the key: I think I have a high mess threshold, that a mess doesn’t affect me negatively. But really, I’m just neglecting myself by living with grime.

My clean bathroom is not perfect. There are fresh paw prints on the counter and I missed a couple spots. But I did something small to make my home and my life a little better. I decided I deserved a nicer environment and I did something about it. I probably could have done anything from reading an enriching book to making a nourishing meal in order to get back to a more positive attitude. Knowing that makes me smile.

A beginning

Welcome to my blog.  This is an account of how I am cultivating a radical domestic life.

I started this blog with the realization that I want to get more out of my life at home.  My tendency is to be very focused on getting things done so that I can hurry up and relax.  You can imagine how well the hurry up and relax philosophy actually works.  So my goal is to become more present with myself through the domestic arts: cooking, baking, entertaining, crafting, canning, etc.  And I want to share it with you.  

Thank you for joining me here, as I breathe life in to my home, my hands, my writing, and a connection between all of them.