The best fun can strike when you least expect it. Unplanned adventures and unexpected guests make for warm feelings and excellent stories.
Saturday morning I found myself over the stove making 25+ pancakes for what I thought might be a small crowd. While the crowd rolled in each at their own time, my living room and kitchen was lit up by free Christmas lights and three beams of radiant light and love—namely two friends from out of town and J. We drank endless coffee (and whisky), talked about the symbolism in Leave It to Beaver, updated my Netflix with some incredible music and danced.
The day was exhausting, quite honestly, but the events played out so smoothly. When distant friends called in with some gossip, I had a support system hanging out with me to deflect the silly drama of friends past. If a relationship is built around gossip surrounding friendships and lovers from a different city, in a different time, with a younger me, let's just cut the cord.
Instead of moping, we romped around town, up and over the hill and ate delicious vegan noms. J and I went to his work party after I napped for a solid hour, and I had my mind blown by a) the strange character of his company and its employees and b) my friends and their incredible pop wonder group, Moonlight Bride. I drank, I danced, and relished in the luxury of a private performance. Afterwards, more coffee and whiskey fueled a hike up to another friend's party. God knows what went on there.
Most recently, I'm facing a three-day workweek and a serious craving for The Nerves. J introduced me to them and I can't STOP listening. Christmas shopping is nearly finished thanks to a friendly local crafter. Tonight I'm finally going to tackle the tempeh and potatoes curry I wanted to try last week. Last night I conquered garlicky kale, rosemary potatoes (notice a theme?) and roasted chicken from the G. This delicious, quick dinner interrupted our three-movie marathon, which consisted of some Mystery Science Theatre 3K, Monsoon Wedding and The Lives of Others. I highly reccomend the last two films. Incredible.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Friday, December 18, 2009
Seitan makes it better
There's nothing more therapeutic than breaking ceramincs against a wall.
Heh. Scratch that. But whenever I get that feeling, I know I need to run. As fast as I possibly can till, oh, over Veterans. Sometimes I yell, sometimes I wave my fists around while yelling, and sometimes I run too fast to yell.
Today was one of those afternoons. But after a long run, a quick clean-up around the house and a beer, I decided to make one of Heidi Swanson's genius, quick, vegetarian recipes from her blog, 101 Cookbooks.
Enter heirloom beans & seitan, complete with roasted broccoli, onions and Parmesean cheese. It was divine, and almost better than the first time I made it. My version, of course, per her recommendation, had canned beans and onions. But it's such a simple, filling, delicious dish that I can make in 20 minutes including washing dishes. NOM NOM NOM...
So after a long, tiring, stressful week, my belly is full, my outlook is much more positive and I am far more relaxed.
Heh. Scratch that. But whenever I get that feeling, I know I need to run. As fast as I possibly can till, oh, over Veterans. Sometimes I yell, sometimes I wave my fists around while yelling, and sometimes I run too fast to yell.
Today was one of those afternoons. But after a long run, a quick clean-up around the house and a beer, I decided to make one of Heidi Swanson's genius, quick, vegetarian recipes from her blog, 101 Cookbooks.
Enter heirloom beans & seitan, complete with roasted broccoli, onions and Parmesean cheese. It was divine, and almost better than the first time I made it. My version, of course, per her recommendation, had canned beans and onions. But it's such a simple, filling, delicious dish that I can make in 20 minutes including washing dishes. NOM NOM NOM...
So after a long, tiring, stressful week, my belly is full, my outlook is much more positive and I am far more relaxed.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
My Wheels and Gears are Spinning
"Kids, he said, have a better understanding of bikes than I do. He told me about what happened when he assigned his junior high class to draw pictures of people doing things on bikes-'whatever you imagine,' he'd said.
One student drew his father on a superbike, vaulting the border from Mexico. Another drew a comic: Bike riders rob a bank, pedal to evade police, and use the money to open a business.
Evidence of moral weakness? No. Evidence of how powerful the desire to live in the United States, and participate in our prosperity, can be. And of the central role the bicycle plays in that dream.
Ask your friends why they ride. To summit mountains, to swoop along singletrack, to lose weight, to get fit. To see things. To feel free. Francisco Orellano doesn't ride to be seen. He rides to become free."
That's an excerpt from an article I found via BikeSnob NYC's comment section from one of his recent posts. The 2006 Utne article, found here, is a touching one, and really hit on something J and I were talking about over pizza last night.
(The pizza from Lupi's, might I add, had as many vegetables as we could cram on it with feta. The last few bites are still sitting on my desk! Nom nom nom...)
Why do I ride a bike? Because it's fun, efficient and gets me to work and other places with relative ease. I don't seek the responsibility that comes with a car. I simply want to be free of maintenance, fees, care and, well, fees. Regardless of the desire or lack thereof for a car, I too reek of the snobby cyclist, always wanting more "gear," a fancier bike and some sort of intangible (or tangible) recognition. Bike lanes, no bike lanes, folks who slow down, folks who wave, folks who blow by. As I finally realized last night, none of those things matter. It doesn't matter if I try to sway people into riding more often, or riding at all. Riding a bicycle, for me and for many people I know, is enjoyable, effective and gets them places, as I said before. And I think I should leave it at that.
I started reading the BSNYC this summer. The guy really has a way with words, I won't lie, and makes some legitimate cracks on all kinds of cycling-related topics, cities, "cultures," and ideas. But at the end of the day/ride, isn't my indulgence in that type of humor similar to my over-indulgence in "gear" and fancy STUFF? When really what I like most about bicycling is it's simplicity?
...
So these thoughts have been tumbling around more than usual. So have recipes for curry tempeh, a co-worker's buttermilk biscuits and dinner with my parents tonight. That Utne magazine story was wonderful insight into the luxuries I am afforded as a greedy American. I feel my innocent and angry zest has grown frosty this December, and it seems like a good thing.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
late Southern dinner
Today was rough. A 1,000-word packed day with a hard mid-day workout left me crumpled on the couch after work, mindlessly browsing the Internet for Christmas gifts and ordering my Dad a calendar I made in iPhoto. J came over, and right before we headed to the grocery I found some delicious curry tempeh recipe. I only needed potatoes and cream to complete the list of ingredients.
We got in the car to head to the grocery, and the temperature had already dropped what felt like 10 degrees. I quickly realized if I wanted to make curried tempeh and eat before midnight, it would have to be another day, as I tend to be a slow shopper and especially slow in the kitchen when it comes to new, unusual recipes.
I've found my apartment—and more significantly, my kitchen—has put me head-to-head with a lot of firsts. As J and I wearily trudged through the grocery, both grumbly about our equally glum work days, I started throwing out suggestions for dinner. It's perfect weather (and season) for kale and eggs, and I could make both of those things with equal speed and success.
As we meandered through Bilo, scooping up necessary items and searching for "luxury" items that will never be found in Chattanooga, we decided to add a sweet potato to the menu for the evening.
So in place of curry tempeh, I whipped up a delicious, beautiful twist on traditional Southern cuisine. The quart of buttermilk I so desperately wanted to use for biscuits this weekend also loomed over my head, too.
The menu?
Lightly sauteed red kale, baked rosemary sweet potato fries, fluffy scrambled eggs with cheese, and my favorite cornbread.
The cornbread recipe, taken from the original Moosewood Cookbook, was the first baked item I remember making "on my own" in my Mom's kitchen. It was the first recipe I accidentally switched the amounts of baking soda and baking powder; and consequently this evening, it was my first homemade cornbread in my first cast iron pan.
And god was it a delicious combination. I think I like this cornbread more than a lot of cakes. It's sweet and fluffy, and the cast iron gives it just the hint of crispiness on the bottom that makes cornbread perfect to me. I used local eggs, honey and buttermilk from the Cruze Dairy in Knoxville.
Moosewood's Cornbread
1 c cornmeal
1 c white flour
2 t baking powder
1/2 t baking soda
1/2 t salt
1/4 c honey
1 c buttermilk
1 egg
3 T melted butter
Preheat oven to 425. Mix dry ingredients. In seperate bowl, mix honey, buttermilk, egg. Combine wet and dry. Use melted butter to coat cast iron. Bake for 15-20 minutes, depending on the size pan you use.
Now my house is warm, the dishes are washed, thanks to J, and I can eat cornbread all week. Maybe I'll even make some for the company potluck this Friday and put that buttermilk to good use.
We got in the car to head to the grocery, and the temperature had already dropped what felt like 10 degrees. I quickly realized if I wanted to make curried tempeh and eat before midnight, it would have to be another day, as I tend to be a slow shopper and especially slow in the kitchen when it comes to new, unusual recipes.
I've found my apartment—and more significantly, my kitchen—has put me head-to-head with a lot of firsts. As J and I wearily trudged through the grocery, both grumbly about our equally glum work days, I started throwing out suggestions for dinner. It's perfect weather (and season) for kale and eggs, and I could make both of those things with equal speed and success.
As we meandered through Bilo, scooping up necessary items and searching for "luxury" items that will never be found in Chattanooga, we decided to add a sweet potato to the menu for the evening.
So in place of curry tempeh, I whipped up a delicious, beautiful twist on traditional Southern cuisine. The quart of buttermilk I so desperately wanted to use for biscuits this weekend also loomed over my head, too.
The menu?
Lightly sauteed red kale, baked rosemary sweet potato fries, fluffy scrambled eggs with cheese, and my favorite cornbread.
The cornbread recipe, taken from the original Moosewood Cookbook, was the first baked item I remember making "on my own" in my Mom's kitchen. It was the first recipe I accidentally switched the amounts of baking soda and baking powder; and consequently this evening, it was my first homemade cornbread in my first cast iron pan.
And god was it a delicious combination. I think I like this cornbread more than a lot of cakes. It's sweet and fluffy, and the cast iron gives it just the hint of crispiness on the bottom that makes cornbread perfect to me. I used local eggs, honey and buttermilk from the Cruze Dairy in Knoxville.
Moosewood's Cornbread
1 c cornmeal
1 c white flour
2 t baking powder
1/2 t baking soda
1/2 t salt
1/4 c honey
1 c buttermilk
1 egg
3 T melted butter
Preheat oven to 425. Mix dry ingredients. In seperate bowl, mix honey, buttermilk, egg. Combine wet and dry. Use melted butter to coat cast iron. Bake for 15-20 minutes, depending on the size pan you use.
Now my house is warm, the dishes are washed, thanks to J, and I can eat cornbread all week. Maybe I'll even make some for the company potluck this Friday and put that buttermilk to good use.
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