I think I can, I think I can.

#11

I've been working on a list. Inspired by Tiny Abstraction's 31 things to do..., I've created 41 before 42.

It seems my list making is inherited. When I visit my father I find old envelopes scattered throughout his house with lists written on them, clipboards with lists stacked beneath the clips, lists on the refrigerator, lists in the truck, lists on his desks (both of them), and lists on the chalkboard in the kitchen.

One major difference between my father's and my list making habits is that I keep all of my lists in one place, my notebook, so I don't lose any of them. As #20 states, I plan on experimenting with bringing Google docs into the mix. Knowledge Man thinks it's a good idea. He's probably right.

Although my lists live side by side, I am just as prolific as my dad with my list making. I write lists of poems I'd like to read, places I'd like to travel, projects I'd like to tackle, books I'd like to check out from the library, ideas for my novel, ideas for my blog, dreaded housekeeping tasks, groceries I need to purchase, recipes I'd like to try, lists of pros and cons for difficult decisions I'm in the process of making, and everyday to-do lists.

I recently had lunch with a friend I hadn't seen in years and years and, of all things, she asked me if I still wrote lists pinpointing all of my hopes, dreams, and simple to-dos. Yes she recalled you were always making lists, writing everything little thing down. I'm not sure how I feel about not seeing my friend for such an extended period of time and then, when we finally meet again, learning that my list making is one of the core things she remembers about me. Hmmm...

In honor of Julia Child, I won't apologize. I guess it is who I am. I have thoughts. I have ideas. I write them down. No reason to be ashamed.

So like the The Little Engine That Could, I'm optimistically off to continue my journey.

41 before 42

1. Finish striped scarf for Chris
Done, but it turns out it's too short...back to the drawing board. More here.

2. Experiment with Lumie's (my Lumix L1) film mode
Done. This was the day.
3. Make a Wakame Salad (buy Mendocino Wakame--Whole Foods, Bi-Rite, or Rainbow Grocery)
Not done. Bought Wakame at Whole Foods (no, I'm not boycotting). I thought I was buying a California product, but I'm a bit confused about the origin of this seaweed due to the label stating Wild California or Maine. Still need to make salad.
5. Submit Worms for Girls to Reaktion Books Ltd
Not done. Decided not to go the traditional publishing route. Working on a handmade book.
6. Submit Worms for Girls to second literary agent
Not done. Decided not to work with an agent. Plan to sell handmade book (and possibly more) online.
7. Make Molly Wizenberg's Banana Bread with Chocolate and Crystallized Ginger
Done (in the form of muffins) .
8. Make our pottery replacements (bowls, plates, mugs)
Done with the exception of mugs. I love my tiny tree mugs and Chris now has his Chicago flag mug.
9. Donate the bowls, plates, and mugs we replace w/ my pottery to Goodwill
Not done. Donated some, but must finish.
10. Watch a sunrise
Done. Woke up early and watched a sunrise in Calistoga, CA on September 15, 2009.
11. Watch a sunset
Done. Watched a beautiful sunset with Chris (photograph above) at Crissy Field August 14, 2009.
12. Make pottery for Dad (bowl and plate)
Done (for now). Dad doesn't really need a plate or bowl, but wanted something cool that I made, so he'll soon be choosing one of my two special wood-fired bowls to keep as his own.
13. Solo trip (focus on observing, writing, photography)
Done. I wrote a little bit about it here.
14. Solo day/night together trip with Chris
Done, but we were missing each other and spent most of our days AND nights together with just a few solo breaks.
15. Time blocking plan (write, read, pottery, knit, workout, home, plan, walk, meet, etc.)
Done, but thinking time blocking is over-rated...
16. Type After the Sour Lemon Moon poems on typewriter (presentation? float in frames?)
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Not feeling bad about it.
17. Start blue scarf with big needles
Done.
18. Finish plum scarf with little needles
Done. Here it is!
19. Try stitching (embroidery) one of the After the Sour Lemon Moon poems (decide on a proper stitch, like the Blue Bottle sign, & use linen)
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Not feeling bad about it.
20. Sort writing, projects, ideas (life) in Google docs.
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Not feeling bad about it.
21. Incorporate computer-free time into schedule (Sundays? A certain time period each day?)
Done--all day each Saturday (highly recommend!). A little bit about this topic here.
22. Inventory closet and compile a donation for Goodwill
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Really should hop to it!
23. Try Maldon Salt
Done.
24. Make Paneer
Done. Made paneer (Julie Sahni's recipe...she shares some paneer making tips at the bottom of the recipe) to replace the tofu in Jen's Okra recipe August 19, 2009.
25. Make a spoon rest
Done.
26. Make a taller (work) mug for Chris
Not done. He bought a Chicago flag mug instead.
27. Make a shorter utensil holder -- use current as model
Not done. Chris loves current model and does not want to replace.
28. Make yarn bowls
Done. Made 4 yarn bowls. Here's three (also apple bowls or whatever-suits-your-fancy bowls).
29. Make large shallow bowl w/ Be Sweet Knobby Ball swirl for texture
Done.
30. Pickle ginger
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Not feeling bad about it. I want to find baby ginger and haven't begun my search.
31. Complete Worms for Girls text w/ index + cover image (stamp?)
Not done. Need to prioritize!
32. Sausalito poem + prose submission to literary magazine
Not done. Just not sure I still want to do this...
33. Make candied orange peel
Done. Made orangettes (candied orange peel dipped in chocolate) August 28, 2009
34. Make crystallized ginger
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Not feeling bad about it. Bought some great crystallized ginger at The Candy Store.
35. Anniversary in Calistoga, CA
Done. Returned home on September 16, 2009 after a great trip to Calistoga, CA
36. Read Michael Ondaatje's The English Patient & Anil's Ghost
Done.
37. Type all Quiet-Riter notes and writing from notebooks into Google docs.
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Feeling bad about it.
38. Begin 15 minutes of silence per day
Done. Began 15 minutes of silence per day (ferry ride to Sausalito). September 3, 2009. I did well for a while, but then fell off the wagon. I need to jump back on.
39. Find two Moroccan tea glasses
Not done. I looked for a while and couldn't find what I liked. I totally forgot about this. Maybe I'll find them today! If not, I'm in no hurry. I'll wait for the glasses I love.
40. Read Per Petterson's To Siberia & In the Wake
Done with In the Wake. Haven't read To Siberia.
41. Show Chris my list
Done. Showed Chris my list August 16, 2009.

Ice cream, in oatmeal?

Steel Cut Oats, Red Apricots, Vanilla Bean Ice Cream, and Freshly Ground Nutmeg

Yes, ice cream in oatmeal!

The following is excerpted from the comments section of a post about ice cream on david lebovitz living the sweet life in Paris.

By chez danisse on August 14, 2009 3:47 PM

Ice cream in oatmeal? My father used to top our Cream of Wheat with vanilla ice cream and until now I'd never heard anyone reference anything even close. You are the first. We loved it--rich cool sweet cream melting over breakfast...yum. I'm sure your version, caramelized white chocolate ice cream stirred into oatmeal, is superb!

By David on August 15, 2009 4:06 AM

chez danisse: Ice cream, in oatmeal? Even I'm not that crazy : )

I put a big spoonful of the caramelized white chocolate itself in the oatmeal, let it melt a bit, then stir it around slightly. (Not too much, such I like ribbons of it.)

By chez danisse on August 15, 2009 11:57 AM

Oops...looks like I was reading too quickly and seeing what I wanted to see versus what was actually written. That being said, I am crazy enough to try ice cream in oatmeal and plan on giving it a go. It was so good in Cream of Wheat. I'm sure it will be tasty. Maybe you should get a little crazy and try it too ; )

We Knew Each Other

Photo by Christopher Parsons

She seemed so familiar,
too familiar, too much like me.

But then something shattered,
either her or the mirror.

One can never tell
from so far behind,
or at all, really.

It began innocently.
A tiny fissure.
Barely noticeable.
Nothing a little foundation couldn't hide.

It grew slowly, at first.
An invisible hand dragging a pencil,
or a knife, across a page,
or a face.

A fault line,
the same one that I, and they,
were built upon.

We knew each other,
even those of us
whose eyes had never met.

Like them, I'd walk along the tightrope.

I'd pray for tension
and against the tremor and the crumble and the crack
that would split
it, or me,
wide open.

Julie & Julia Bruschetta

Bruschetta? Who cares!

I am certain that I am not the first person to try and recreate the indulgently drenched in olive oil and fried version of bruschetta prepared by Amy Adams in Julie & Julia. As I watched Julie and her husband devour those crisp slices of bread covered in olive oil, heirloom tomatoes, and basil...well...I knew a week would not pass before I gave it a go in my own kitchen.

Forget one week, I didn't even let two days pass. I was first enticed by a couple of beautifully ripe orange heirloom tomatoes at The Real Food Co. and snatched them up. Yesterday I added to my collection with some juicy and full flavored Early Girl tomatoes from the farmers market. I also found a huge bunch of basil from a Bolinas farmer with a stand I hadn't seen before, I believe it was La Tercera, but I'm not completely sure because I was too focused on the basil. The type of basil she sold was unfamiliar to me, thin stems topped by little globes of tiny basil leaves, loads of them. The nice man at the Acme Bread Co. counter suggested a Long Italian loaf of bread and it was an excellent choice, perfect for this recipe, perfect. I already had garlic, fleur de sel, and my pepper mill was full. I deviated just a smidge from what I saw in the movie by adding one small ripe fig to the mix. A fig might seem a little out of place here, but I've never heard of fried bruschetta either, so I figured, why not?

I began prepping my ingredients about an hour before I planned to eat. Step one was cutting up my tomatoes into traditional bruschetta sized chunks. To my bowl of super ripe and juicy tomatoes I added the little leaves from several basil stems and stirred it around gently with my hand. I topped the tomato basil mixture with one very soft and ripe fig cut into small pieces. Don't add any salt at this point because it will make the tomatoes release their juices and if you've selected ripe tomatoes they'll be juicy enough. Wait and add the salt at the last moment, right before you eat your bruschetta. I then placed a piece of saran over the bowl and walked to the library to return a book.

When I returned from my library walk, after thinking about my bruschetta feast the entire time I was away, I anxiously moved forward. I poured some (I wasn't shy) olive oil into a heavy bottom pan and began to warm the oil over a medium heat. I placed several slices (about 3/4" thick and sliced on an angle) of bread into the pan of warm oil and brushed the top side of the bread with the oil in the pan that was pooling up around the slices. Once I'd covered the top side of the bread with oil I moved the slices around in the pan so the bottom side could absorb more oil. I wanted this bruschetta to look as crazy good as the bruschetta in the movie. Just forget that it is not the bruschetta you know and love and move on. Fat, calories, and Italian tradition were not on my list of priorities.

Once the bread was lightly browned on the bottom side I turned it over and continued heating the bread until it was lightly browned on the other side. The bread should have that overall crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside look.

I removed one slice of bread from the pan at a time and thoroughly rubbed each slice with a 1/2 clove of garlic. Next I spooned mounds of the tomato, basil, and fig mixture on top of the garlicky bread and sprinkled it all with a bit of Fleur de Sel and freshly ground pepper.

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that this meal was absolutely delicious! Yes, the bruschetta alone was my meal. It was all I needed. It will be all you need. I haven't swooned over my food like this in quite a while. I was the only one home and I'll admit to moaning out loud with each and every bite.

We are right in the middle of tomato season and the timing could not be better for a dish such as this that revolves around fresh sun ripened tomatoes. I strongly recommend giving this non-traditional and utterly indulgent version of bruschetta a try. You will not be disappointed.

* I performed an encore at about 10:30 pm, when Chris made it home from a long day at work. He happily devoured a full plate of this goodness and thanked me with a nice kiss (and a couple of bites of his bruschetta).

Choose your dinner companion carefully, this dish begs to be followed by nice kisses.

place and space

image from one of Liivian Talossa's 2009 posts

I have been admiring the work of Liivian Talossa for quite some time now. The text on her blog was not in a language I recognized, yet her photographs were so beautiful I never felt the need to understand the text. I just returned again and again to see the beautiful imagery she captured.

I've been thinking a lot about place and space lately, the way the space we inhabit influences us in a way that is often difficult to describe. Are these images so mesmerizing to me because of Ms. Talossa's relation to the equator? Is it the culture in which she was raised? Perhaps it is just her way of seeing, inexplicable, and something unique to her and only her. I may never know and that is okay.

My curiosity did prompt me to do a little research this morning and it appears Liivian Talossa is Finnish, but I have no desire to investigate further. I'll leave it at that.

I'm inquisitive by nature and I did have to dip my toe into the research pool to learn a bit about Ms. Talossa, but only ever so slightly. I'm sure her place in this world has something to do with her work, but more importantly, I don't require this information to enjoy her work.

I've been inspired to be a little less curious, let some things sink in for a while before asking questions. These thoughts took root during a visit to one of my favorite spots in San Francisco, SFMOMA's 2nd floor education area, a wonderful space. They have a mini library and furniture to lounge upon and learn about many of the artists in their collection.

While perusing one of these artist books I read an interview with Katharina Fritsch where she referenced her comfort with the unknown and how some things can't be or simply don't have to be explained immediately.

I agree and I believe it was being in this special library space that allowed me to do so.

The Oars

The weight of the oars
and my pace
yielded a perfect pain.

Behind my neck,
across my back, and straight
through to my chest.

It was clean
and honest, then slow.

My eyelids reached down, heavy,
and longed to rest upon the waves.

The sway of the boat
and the sound of the little licks
beneath and beside me,

I did not want them to go.

The oars slipped from my hands
and I slipped somewhere too,
slowly, and then
not so much.

Until it became
a story, one they'd tell later.

"...the most insanely awesome woman you've never heard of."

Time to dust off your wings, we are going to visit someone new.

Who? Erin over at Reading My Tea Leaves. Visit Erin to learn more about a woman BUST Magazine describes as "...the most insanely awesome woman you’ve never heard of."

Off you go!

Lunch @ Wexler's

Photo: Kevin Bond via Google images

Miracles do happen. Today is July 13th, technically summer, and... it actually feels like summer here in San Francisco. This does not occur often. I am filled with joy! This is cause for celebration.

On this perfect summer day, I was lucky enough to be treated to the most perfect summer lunch. We met at a new restaurant, Wexler's, located on Sacramento Street, between Montgomery and Sansome. Wexler's is a beautiful little restaurant with simple cream-colored walls and red chandeliers. A custom-made wood canopy invites you inside and then ripples above you through the entire restaurant.

The decor was cozy, and the rippling canopy interesting, but it was the food that truly caught my attention. I ordered the the trio below, starting with the cucumber soup and ordering the squid salad as my entree.

I enjoyed having my cucumber soup assembled on the table right in front of me. It was beautiful. Three petite dollops of the smoky ricotta and thin ribbons of bell pepper confit were brought out in a large shallow bowl, a perfect match for the cool and clean taste of the smooth-as-silk cucumber soup poured into the bowl from a small cast iron teapot. The server poured while I smiled and observed as the soup flowed slowly from the teapot spout, filling in the space surrounding the tiny ricotta and pepper islands.

My salad was impeccably balanced. Lightly dressed frisee, little squares of delicately fried green tomatoes, sweet supremed orange slices, tender squid, and the heat of a few thin rings of bright red pickled chilies (I adored the chilies!).

We shared the banana cream pie. A drizzle of Dulce de Leche topped with a slice of creamy pie and a few caramelized banana slices arranged neatly beside the pie--all sprinkled with just a hint of Fleur de Sel.

The combination of colors, temperatures, tastes, and textures in all three of my selections created a beautiful and delicious summer lunch. I couldn't have been happier.

Chilled Heirloom Cucumber Soup - $8
Smoked Ricotta, Bell Pepper Confit

Monterey Bay Squid Salad - $9
Fried Green Tomatoes, Pickled Fresno Chiles, Orange

Bourbon Banana Cream Pie - $6
Dulce de Leche, Fleur de Sel

Malt-O-Meal Makeover

my breakfast -- July 10, 2009

I had a wisdom tooth pulled in May and one of the things that comforted me post-surgery was a box of Malt-O-Meal. The box has been neglected since then, but today it called to me.

I prepared one serving of Malt-O-Meal as directed by box instructions (one exception, I used a whisk--it works much better than a spoon). Next I scooped a heaping tablespoon of crunchy peanut butter, my favorite type, the type that is labeled ingredients: peanuts, into my bowl. I poured the hot Malt-O-Meal over the peanut butter. I topped the Malt-O-Meal and peanut butter with a generous sprinkling of sweetened coconut flakes, a drizzle of sesame oil, and finished it off with some SRIRACHA HOT CHILI SAUCE (rooster sauce).

I dipped buttered toast (Acme's Upstairs Bread) into this fabulous dish and it was mmm mmm good.

Small confession: Another post-wisdom tooth extraction comfort was instant mashed potatoes with blue cheese crumbles. I was weak...

perception

I burned the onions,

but he didn't seem to mind.

He ate them all,
every last bit.

Puttering About in a Small Kitchen

Chinese, Japanese, and Italian eggplant

my notes...

Earlier this week I went a little food crazy.

Chris was working late one night when I decided to tackle the lemon-blueberry yogurt cake recipe from Smitten Kitchen that I had stumbled upon during my blueberry recipe search. There were some perfect blueberries lounging in my kitchen that needed to be put to good use. I'd happily eaten many straight from the bowl, but was in the mood to bake something with the rest. I proceeded to dirty a few bowls, measuring cups & spoons, and a bread pan. I changed very little in the recipe. I subsituted whole wheat flour for 1/3 of the white flour and added the lemon juice and powdered sugar glaze mentioned in her list of other ideas for the cake.

Of course, baking a cake wasn't enough. I felt some sort of magnetic pull toward using each and every bowl, pan, and utensil in my kitchen. I didn't fight it. It reminded of the night my mom and I decided to bake an apple pie. The mood did not strike until midnight. We decided to just go with it and headed out the door toward a nearby 24-hour grocery store. We were sleepy and silly, yet muddled through the recipe and were happily enjoying our homemade pie a few hours later. It's one of my favorite memories.

There were leftovers I could have eaten. It could have been an easy and low key night, but instead I felt inspired to remain in the kitchen and make something with the eggplant stash I'd purchased earlier in the day. Chris and I had been perusing the stands at the Tuesday market following an exceptional lunch at Boulette's Larder--they do everything right and this day had been no exception. We turned a corner and found ourselves standing in front of a table piled high with eggplant of all sorts, Japanese, Chinese, and Italian. I was studying the different shapes and sizes and trying to decide which type I preferred when Chris suggested Why don't you buy all three. Cook them all and see which you like best. I said Oh yes yes, The Eggplant Challenge. Good idea! I bought one of each.

At this point I'd prepared the batter, but the cake still needed to bake for 50 minutes. My eggplant challenge would have to wait. I only have one oven in this small kitchen you know... Luckily, I'm almost opposed to kitchen gadgets and appliances, so the small size of my kitchen isn't much of an issue (although I wouldn't mind a south facing window in front of my sink...). I'm a back-to-basics type when it comes to the kitchen and see most gadgets and appliances as superfluous. I just need a few good pans, a sharp knife, and a cutting board.

So, while the cake baked, I decided to prep the ingredients I'd need for my challenge and the ingredients for a pasta dish I was concocting in my head. The pasta dish had been inspired by an eggplant based recipe I'd seen on The Wednesday Chef the prior week. My version ended up a little different from Luisa's and Melissa's, but the core of the original recipe remained fairly intact. I switched to whole wheat pasta (Eduardo's whole wheat penne), went back to Melissa's lamb versus beef (for some reason I was in such a lamb mood this week...3 meals w/ lamb!), added some grape tomatoes, used three types of eggplant versus one, substituted cilantro for mint, and swapped out yogurt and melted butter for Parmigiano-Reggiano that I grated on top (sometimes I'm so predictable).

The cake was set to cool and I was finally able to cook the eggplant. I diced each eggplant into cubes of about 1/2-3/4", tossed them in olive oil, garlic (just a little), and salt before spreading each variety onto its own pan and placing those pans inside a 500 degree oven. The eggplant cooked quickly, in about 15 minutes. I let it cool slightly and then grabbed my notepad and pen and began tasting and taking notes.

The Japanese eggplant was soft and creamy, it almost melted in my mouth. This sounds nice, but frankly I enjoyed the other two more firmly textured varieties over the melt-in-your-mouth variety. It was a little sour. The skin was slightly bitter and the thickest of the three, but it did crisp up a bit and that was nice. I was surprised because I'd anticipated that the Japanese eggplant would be my favorite. It ranked 3rd (aka - last).

The Italian eggplant had the "eggplant taste" with which I am most familiar. It turns out that most familiar does not equate to best, not by any means. The skin was chewy, but not as thick as the Japanese. The skin did not crisp up at all. The seeds of the Italian eggplant were most prominent. It held its shape during cooking better than the Japanese, but not as well as the Chinese. The taste, especially when compared side-by-side with the Japanese and Chinese varieties, fell very flat. It was quite bland and I'll reiterate that this bland taste appeared after being tossed in olive oil, garlic, and salt. This not a good thing. The Italian eggplant ranked 2nd.

The Chinese eggplant held its shape during cooking. It had the thinnest skin. There weren't any bitter or sour notes noticed during the tasting. The skin was thin and unobtrusive. It absorbed the olive oil, garlic, and salt nicely. This eggplant was firm yet soft on the inside, and lightly crisp on the outside. There was a hint of sweetness in the flesh. The Chinese eggplant was the clear winner.

By the time I'd baked and glazed the cake, performed the eggplant challenge, and prepared my pasta dish, it was quite late and I was almost too sleepy to enjoy my creations, but I didn't mind. It was worth it. It might not be every girl's idea of a good time, but I actually enjoyed my evening of puttering about in the kitchen for hours on end.

Just as I finished my bowl of late-night pasta, Chris walked in the door. We sat down at the kitchen table together and ate slices of sweet cake before collapsing into bed and falling quickly into a deep and restful sleep.

exposure

sometimes

the illumination is so bright
i can't see

definition defaults to flat

bare &
burned to white

yet, it remains

holding all that matters
and all i fear

all i need to see

sometimes the city makes you soft

I've always believed that living in the the city resulted in toughening up and living in the country softened people. Today I'm not so sure.

I started thinking back to one of our Stinson Beach Motel vacations. We spent our mornings rising early enough to jump out of bed and rush to the picnic area near the beach before anyone else would arrive and disturb our favorite gopher (there were probably several gophers, but we liked believing that we saw the same busy gopher every morning). We'd quietly sit on a picnic table with our coffees and try not to giggle too loudly as we watched him scurry about and pop his head up through various holes surrounding the picnic tables. We didn't know what sort of important work was going on underground, but we found it all very entertaining. We weren't worried about the picnic area. We were just visiting for a few days and then returning to San Francisco.

Then some big things changed and we were suddenly starting a kitchen garden behind our new home in Point Reyes. Our happy gopher days were immediately over. We were no longer entertained by gophers. It was hard work keeping them at bay to protect our fruit, veggies, and herbs. Whenever we saw a new telltale mound of dirt or a little gopher head pop up through a hole in the yard we'd growl--grrrrrrrrr.

I could tell a similar story about the deer in West Marin. They were darling and Bambi-like until they started eating my peas and the new heliotrope plant we were told was "deer resistant". I now believe what Mostly Natives Nursery states on their website "There is no such thing as a deer proof plant. Some deer somewhere has eaten everything that we know of including poisonous plants." The deer in Point Reyes are tough. They stare you down. They have no fear.


While cleaning a head of lettuce today I stumbled upon a tiny snail, it was incredibly small, the size of a grain of jasmine rice. I stopped what I was doing and became mesmerized by this miniature creature as it moved slowly along an inner lettuce leaf. Just months ago I was at war with the snails in my yard, buying little anti-snail copper fences and dreaming up new ideas for beer traps. Today, back in San Francisco and without a yard, much further from the lush landscape that surrounded me back then, I find I've warmed up to the snails, at least to this little guy. I carefully removed the leaf, snail and all, from the lettuce head and took it outside. I gently placed the snail, atop it's giant magic carpet of a lettuce leaf, on a steep weed-covered slope behind my apartment and wished it a long and happy life.

This weekend was supposed to be a computer-free weekend, but I cheated. Without my yard and garden I sometimes spend too much time on my laptop. I'm not feeling much remorse because my cheating was rewarded with this beautiful poem found on Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast. Sometimes breaking the rules pays off. I'll follow the rules tomorrow.

Appreciating poetry, forgiving rule breaking, giving a perfectly good lettuce leaf to a snail ...see how soft I am?

A Small Dragon
by Brian Patten

I've found a small dragon in the woodshed.
Think it must have come from deep inside a forest
because it's damp and green and leaves
are still reflecting in its eyes.

I fed it on many things, tried grass,
the roots of stars, hazel-nut and dandelion,
but it stared up at me as if to say, I need
foods you can't provide.

It made a nest among the coal,
not unlike a bird's but larger,
it is out of place here
and is quite silent.

If you believed in it I would come
hurrying to your house to let you share my wonder,
but I want instead to see
if you yourself will pass this way.

Melencolia I, 2009

Understanding Albrecht Dürer this morning...

do you bathe your blinds?

blinds in the tub

I have not yet taken a shower, but my blinds are enjoying a bubble bath. It doesn't seem fair.

The second set is about to be addressed, each and every slat, one by one. There are four sets total. Do other people do this?

If there is a better way to get blinds clean, I have not discovered it. The whole project is quite a hassle, so it does not happen very often. I procrastinate as long as possible, and then, when I cannot stand it, not for another moment, I decide--today is the day. Today is that day.

Here's what I do:
I turn on the hot water, add a little dish washing liquid, and run a few inches of water into the tub. Next I drop the blinds into the hot soapy water and let them soak. After the soaking period, I set my gardener's knee pad on the floor beside the tub to protect my knees and I drape a folded towel over the side of the tub to protect my ribs. I kneel on the pad, lean over the towel-padded side of the tub, and begin running each slat between my thumb and forefinger to remove whatever it is that accumulates on urban blinds. The blinds not only bathe in bubbles, they shower. They have to be showered to remove the soapy residue and this means I end up pretty wet too. I also have to dry them (and myself!) before hanging them back up and moving on to the next set.

It takes some time, but when I finish all four sets, an entire wall of my apartment will be sparkly white. It will feel different in here, better.

Do I sound like a stereotypical 1950s housewife? I think I do...a little bit. Uh oh. Please forgive me, Betty Friedan. I don't enjoy the process, just the result.

pirates, peach pizza, and pickles

how to start a saturday:

#1 wake up naturally, sans alarm--always a good thing!

#2 savor a Caffe Trieste cappuccino

#3 slowly stroll to the ferry building

#4 rest on an old railroad tie and nibble on a Frog Hollow petite pizza (peach, ricotta, and bacon) while watching the Jug Town Pirates do their thing

#5 go home with a mound of sweet Rainier cherries, two stems of lemon verbena (not sure what I'm doing with these yet--any suggestions?), and homemade pickle ingredients (mixed bunch of carrots, Armenian cucumbers, and a big fat beautiful red onion)

spontaneous organic covert...oh my!

If you live in the Bay Area, get your booty over to Kitchenette--pronto!

Dogpatch Lunch: Tuesday 06/09

cornmeal fried cod roll chayote, kumquats, cilantro, jalapeno, garlic mayonnaise, fresh lemon…cabbage slaw $8.50

mt. tam cheese & rhubarb-ginger jam baguette walnut persillade, arugula $6.50

4505’s spicy chicharrones $3.-

hazelnut button cookies $.50

lemon verbena arnold palmer $2.-

We arrived promptly at 11:30am, just as the door was opening. As we walked along a parking area, behind a strip of loading docks, on the backside of an industrial building in the Dogpatch neighborhood, we spotted Kitchenette's sandwich board and witty greeting. Joel from Dependable Letterpress, just around the corner, had clued us in on all necessary details--hours, location, the food is excellent.

The concise menu for the day was posted on a small easel set upon a simple table just inside the loading dock. For such an unexpected location and set-up, they seemed to know exactly what they were doing--they didn't mess around. No fluff. Luckily, the Mt. Tam & rhubarb-ginger goodness on a baguette was not yet available. This made our decision easy, no pondering.

We decided on two cornmeal fried cod rolls along with a few other treats. A line was forming and the customers waiting, many of them well-heeled, looked hungry, so we ordered and got out of the way. We shared a bag of melt-in-your-mouth and perfectly seasoned chicharrones while patiently waiting on a wooden bench beside the loading dock/restaurant, sipping our lemon verbena Arnold Palmers, and enjoying the view--asphalt, abandoned buildings, chain link fence, and some nice dry weeds.

It was well worth it! They didn't waste any time. Kitchenette was all business, everything was very efficient. Our sandwiches were brought out toot-sweet. We opened our brown boxes, adorned with the name of the little covert operation stamped in red ink, to find our warm fresh sandwiches wrapped neatly in paper resting beside a small container of wonderfully light cabbage slaw--all packaging compostable.

Funny thing happened...someone from CBS channel 5 showed up and interviewed us as part of a segment on SF Bay Area "nonstaurants". Now Chris is committed to a guest post on my blog!

I wish I would have grabbed a couple of those Mt. Tam & rhubarb-ginger jam baguettes for dinner tonight. This post is making me hungry. Oh well... Thanks Joel!

4505 aptly label their chicharrones as part of our swine so fine product line.

strawberries for dinner

Strawberries with Buttermilk & Vanilla Sugar

Fill dessert bowl 3/4 full with cold buttermilk
Spoon in 1 - 2 teaspoons vanilla sugar
Stir
Drop halved strawberries into bowl
Eat

what is wild?

Wild? Domesticated? Cultivated? Genetically modified? Vampires? Do any of us really understand our food? Do we want to understand our food? It's a quandary...

Sometimes I grow tired of all of the data and just want to eat what looks good and tastes good, but then I hear Mr. Standage discussing his new book during an interview on NPR and I find myself being pulled back into the tangle of data defining what we eat. I cannot deny that I am, yet again, intrigued. The San Francisco Public Library has my request--I am 13/13 holds.

a weekend of wavelets...

Have you ever looked at the weekend forecast and seen something like:
Wind: from NNE at 12 mph

I typically focus on temperature and sunshine versus clouds, or the possibility of rain. This morning Chris was looking up the weekend forecast and for some unknown reason I asked if it was going to be windy. He told me the forecast read that the wind was being predicted at 12 mph. I told him that I'd never investigated how a 12 mph wind might differ from a 24 mph wind or a 36 mph wind and he told me that he hadn't given it much thought either.

Then he referred to the wizard...

Chris found a website that described wind scales according to the Beaufort Wind Scale. Very interesting indeed. Our 12 mph wind was eloquently defined as follows:
Description: Gentle Breeze
Effects Land / Sea: Leaves and small twigs move, light weight flags extend. Large wavelets, crests start to break, some whitecaps.

Just a few other delightful phrases, before it gets too windy, from the Beaufort Wind Scale:
smoke will rise vertically
water is mirror-like
leaves rustle
can feel wind on your face
small trees sway
telephone wires begin to "whistle"

Enjoy your weekend.

gorgeous little things

unidentified gorgeous little thing--Block Island

My friend, Paul, is currently showing some of his drawings in the gallery space of a Mission District boutique, BellJar. Sasha Wingate, the owner of BellJar, describes her stock as a collection of gorgeous little things.

I've been thinking a lot about those words, gorgeous little things. As enticing as the descriptions grand, big, and spectacular sometimes seem, it's the little things in life that truly move me.

One of my most prized possessions is a gift Paul gave Chris and me a few years ago. He drew a small scale, simple, and peaceful image of a cozy looking pillow with a hardcover book resting upon it. An ideal gift for Chris and me--we love sleeping and we love reading. Every time I look at this sweet little drawing I smile.

gift from Paul

Gorgeous little things...

The yarn bowl I gave my mom for Mother's Day and the beauty of the way most of Be Sweet's 50 gram balls of yarn fit perfectly inside.

yarn bowl

cornichons--such darling little pickles

Miette's Parisian Macaroons, especially the Rose Geranium variety!

Caffe Trieste's caffè con panna

Tiny sprouts of any sort. I planted a pot of basil seeds recently, while visiting my father. Today he left me a voice message:
Hey Nise, Dad. What did you plant in that pot in Globe? There's all kinds of stuff coming up in there. I watered it.
Sweet little green (and red) leaves emerging from the soil make everyone happy...

beets

Moroccan tea glasses--why don't I own any of these?

Recchiuti Fleur de Sel Caramels

The tiny little frog that lived in my Point Reyes backyard. There was a stretch of time when he seemed to magically appear to greet me each time I entered the yard.

frog friend

Stella Pastry's mini biscotti--I miss the old days, when two beautiful sisters owned the bakery, but the biscotti is still good.

The matchstick sized carrots I once found tucked inside the bunch of baby carrots I purchased at the farmers market.

carrots

The cherry blossoms that bloom outside our bay window for Chris's birthday.

Small gestures like the note my niece, Mary, gave me on the train, the postcards my friend, Joen, sends me from near and far, and the phone call from Dr. McDow post-wisdom tooth extraction, not a call from his assistant, but the doc himself.

gift from little Mary

The demitasse spoon a young handsome man in Chicago stole for me after my mention of how much I adored the cute little spoons.

And the poems that say it all in just a few lines...

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast.

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.

--William Carlos Williams

plums

alone in the kitchen...

Are you up for a field trip? Visit Jen over at Modern Beet and see what she writes about solo dining. Enjoy!

Phoenix

New and triumphant green emerging on the resilient oregano--bravo!

The ashes (base of the plant) from which the healthy new green is emerging

I was wrong. My oregano is not dead. Like the Phoenix, it has emerged from the wreckage.

I returned from The Valley of the Sun, the Phoenix metropolitan area, yesterday evening. The heat in the Valley is intense. It holds you by the neck and makes great demands. It asks of you things you cannot give, but then you find yourself obeying, unaware of how you conjured up such strength.

Yesterday, as I ascended from the airless belly of the airport, I felt my slow shallow breaths halt as I sucked in my first sweet, full, and clean breath. I'd forgotten the beauty of the cool Bay Area air I'd left behind. I was back, and not just back, but back and better than I'd been before I left.

Today I feel strong, stable, alert, and focused. I've emerged anew.

Can we plan this sort of renewal or does it only work when it happens to us? It is a feeling of control derived from its absence. What does one do with such data?

Perhaps it is experiences such as these that embolden us to take risks, remain patient through struggle, and optimistically look for that light at the end of the tunnel--all the while, hoping to emerge with the strength and power of the Phoenix.

My 12 year old niece, Maizy
She was still in good spirits after waiting...and waiting
...and waiting in sweltering heat to hear Barack Obama
speak. People were passing out in line. It was quite crazy.
She did not complain once.

Me--Globe, AZ
This photo was taken by Chris during one of the two days we escaped
the Valley of the Sun to help my dad work on his project--what was once an
Italian brick oven bakery built during the turn of the century and what
appears to have been a boarding house for miners. Saying it needs a lot
of work is an understatement, but Dad has his vision and chips away,
bit by bit. Globe was about 10 degrees cooler than the Valley, not exactly
an escape, but a bit of relief.

The boys, Dad & Chris, at work in Globe, AZ

The graduate, my little brother, Alex (captured by his mom, Lynda)
He was the reason we visited the Valley of the Sun and the reason we were
able to see our president give an amazing speech during the ASU commencement
ceremony. Alex surrendered 5 of his 6 tickets to his family and we scored
two of those in-demand tickets. Thanks Alex!

safer?

oregano post-Safer brand insect killing soap w/ seaweed extract

Safer brand seems to have successfully killed the aphids and my oregano.

there must be a better way...

Asian pear aka #685

I prefer my produce sticker-free. The problem was that we had eaten up all of the fruit we'd purchased during our last trip to the farmers market and it was only Wednesday. The farmers market is a great place for finding sticker-free fruit, but it's not open every day. The market vendors would not return until Saturday, so I decided to stop at The Real Food Company, a neighborhood market on Fillmore Street in San Francisco, to purchase a few pieces of fruit. The Asian pear I bought was delicious, but those stickers--why do they irk me so? The sticker on my Asian pear, well, it wasn't even one of the colorful little stickers with a logo, fancy font, or cute fruit drawing on it, just a drab number inked on a rectangle in faded black.

It seems I'm not the only one with strong feelings about these little stickers. I took a look around and found many individuals with thoughts on the topic.

Some were annoyed and others were extremely bothered. There were those who were fascinated, some were even inspired. One woman thought Great! Art supplies for my daughter! A 19-year-old got resourceful and found a way to recycle. One gentleman was even willing to die to get rid of the sticky little guys, but this video was probably the most interesting, creative, and definitely the most odd explanation I found for the use of the fruit sticker. In 2005 the New York Times wrote that the fruit tattoo was replacing the fruit sticker and that tattooed fruit was being sold "nationwide". This is strange because it is now 2009 and I have yet to see a tattooed piece of fruit. It seems RediRipe has some ideas too. It goes on and on.

Hmmm...so what have I learned? There is more than one way to view the fruit sticker.

Enjoy your fruit!

urban gardening part III - carrots (originally posted on 4/10/2009)

oops--i accidentally deleted this 4/10/2009 post...just bringing it back.

Friday, April 10, 2009

urban gardening part III - carrots

THEN
Point Reyes Station's Grandi Building as seen from one of the wooden picnic tables in the Point Reyes Community Garden
(one of my favorite writing spots)

I was recently perusing the latest issue of Organic Gardening when I got to the final page of the magazine, that space after all of the advertising, where they usually leave you with one last tidbit, often something fun. On this page Maria Rodale asks What's your garden fantasy? I thought about that for a while.

I do have a garden fantasy.

I indulged in my own homegrown produce for about a year while we rented a house in Point Reyes Station, CA., a sun filled house with free rein to do whatever we pleased in the giant backyard. It was amazing, truly an experience I will never forget. My mom tells me that gardening is now in my bones. I think she's right.

We walked on to a property already possessing a tree w/ three types of apples, a pear tree, three types of plum trees, raspberries, a variety or blackberry vines, and a beautiful lemon tree that I visited almost daily. To that we added so much more that I stopped counting after we realized we were growing 50some varieties of fruits and vegetables in our backyard.

Gardening is addictive, at least it was for us. I was constantly tempted by the beauty of new seedlings and the grand promises and lovely descriptions of what could soon be ours printed on alluring seed packets. We planted in raised beds of all sizes, terracotta pots, random containers donated by our neighbor, and beds that we created by digging into our weed ridden backyard soil - we even built giant bean tepees and began composting with worms.

We were surprisingly successful considering we were complete novices. We had a blast. We harvested pounds and pounds of fresh produce, arugula, shelling peas, scarlet runner beans, ozette potatoes, oca, black russian tomatoes, garlic, lemon cucumbers, green beans, yellow crookneck squash, green beans, sugar snap peas, bok choy, lettuce, scallions, leeks, herbs, and an array of carrots, just to name a few. Unfortunately we left Point Reyes before our parsnips, cauliflower, spinach, spigariello, or radicchio could mature. I hope the new tenants like vegetables!

I loved just about everything we grew, but I had a special fondness for our shelling peas and carrots. Fresh peas and carrots, picked right before eating them, well, as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't get much better than that. The peas we grew were labeled Tall Telephone Pole Peas and they were gorgeous. The blossoms were delicate and pretty and the vines, with their swirling tendrils, grew up our back fence and toward the sky like something out of a fairytale. My carrots, St. Valery, New Kuroda, Scarlet Nantes, Purple Haze, and Oxheart (I still might be forgetting a few), were some of the easiest and most forgiving vegetables we grew. They were also delicious and we ate them in salads, pickled, steamed, sauteed, and just plain old scrubbed and out of hand. I never even knew so many varieties of carrots existed.

NOW
our kitchen table as seen from one of our kitchen chairs in our San Francisco apartment
(another one of my favorite writing spots)

It is now spring again, about one year after we began our first garden together. We are living in a small apartment atop Russian Hill in San Francisco, CA. Our outdoor space consists of a few inches of down sloping window sill per window, and some of those windows are painted shut. Nothing makes one long for their garden more than spring. Our local community gardens are jam-packed and we've been told that it could take years before they reach our names on their waiting lists. Here's where the carrots come in (literally).

I bought a large terracotta pot, soaked some New Kuroda (my favorite) carrot seeds overnight, filled my pot with a combination of potting soil and worm castings, and buried my seeds. Then I crossed my fingers and waited. Lo and behold, I didn't count the days, but the seeds seemed to sprout up much faster than the seeds I planted outside in Point Reyes. One night, much sooner than I anticipated, my husband spotted them and showed them to me. I was ecstatic!

When I am home during the time of day when our apartment catches some sun, I move the terracotta pot between my bay window and kitchen window to allow it as much sunlight as possible. The tiny sprouts all lean toward the sun and when I move the pot I rotate it so their backs are to the sun. Sure enough, the next time I take a peek, they've all repositioned themselves and are leaning toward the sun again. They are an indulgent bunch.

So, while here atop Russian Hill, I've adjusted my expectations. My fantasy is a small one. I'd like to see those 9 little sprouts become fully formed delicious carrots. That's all. Is it possible? I really don't know.

Some, my husband for instance, have much loftier ideas when it comes to garden fantasies. He's convinced we can somehow trellis pole peas in our bay window. He wants to bring those fairytale vines and tendrils indoors. I'm not so sure about this plan, but I like his high hopes. Perhaps I'll be reporting on peas next.

The herbs and succulents are also doing well and we've recently added a tillandsia (air plant) to the mix.

the aphids are coming! the aphids are coming!

oregano with tiny aphid on stem

i never used anything to remove insects from plants in our outdoor garden. i let the good and bad insects fight their own battles. obviously, i didn't plan on using anything on my indoor plants, but i'm not really sure what else to do.

bottom line--i don't want to share my apartment with aphids and little flies (i believe they are "whiteflies"). the gravel is not keeping the flies away (my herb gardener was wrong) and i fear they are multiplying, plus i've spotted aphids.

i searched around the web and did some reading and it seems Safer brand insecticidal soap is used by organic gardeners for such situations. i bought some yesterday and am giving it a try, but i'll be honest, it's making me lose my buzz for eating these home grown herbs. the product claims it is safe on fruits an vegetables, but will i be able to completely remove this stuff before i add my freshly snipped herbs to to a recipe?

i'm feeling a bit bummed and defeated. i really want to make this work. sigh.

you don't have to go to paris

This recent Mark Bittman post referencing items such as bread, salami and butter made me chuckle, but you don't have to travel to Paris to experience such unadulterated joy. It seems most people see Paris as they do bacon, in an everything is better with bacon sort of way. I wonder if the recent press Swine Flu is receiving will change this beloved perception of bacon. I hope not.

Is everything better in Paris?

I'm not so sure.

this photograph of Chris makes me chuckle too

Yesterday evening I met Chris at a wine bar (here in San Francisco, at the Ferry Plaza). We each ordered a glass of wine, shared the salumi plate, and had a nice conversation. No butter, but I couldn't have asked for better company. Who needs Paris...