Foodie Tuesday: Desperate Times Call for Inventive Cookery (or None!)

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In the center of the vortex that is our schedule at the moment, I have a kitchen piled high with boxes, sorting spots for deciding what of the cooking tools and gadgets, dishes and dietary dabs, to Keep-Give-Sell-Trash, and cleaning supplies for tidying up when (and if) I finally make order amid the chaos again. In the center of that mess, I have rather little space, time, or inclination to be the simplest of pretend-chefs. So it’s imperative that I get my mise-en-mess just organized enough to see that we eat, no matter what.

What to do, what to do, cried Chicken Little!

First: don’t panic. I am not troubled with that far worse enemy of not having access to food aplenty. After that, it’s not so complicated. Remember to keep all of this chaos and craziness—of combining a busy work schedule with travel (out of state, followed by a jaunt overseas), while also being in the maze of selling the house and moving to a 50% smaller apartment—in perspective. We have a home (two, for a while, soon). We have real, daily work to do that is fulfilling as much as it is challenging and time-consuming. We have exciting trips to take and wonderful things to do and friends to spend time with while on these travels. And we have food, lots of food.

Prep is the enemy these days, of course. I love the leisurely approach of knowing two weeks in advance that company’s coming, planning the menu over a few dreamy days, shopping for ingredients, setting up my mise en place during work breaks in the day or two preceding the event, and even making up dishes in advance to be chilled properly or ready for flame, if they’re to be served hot. But that is the one ingredient I lack right now: leisure. Time is in too high demand these days for any ridiculously languid approach to fixing and eating meals. I look to the quick fix in times of, well, little time.

A good opportunity to think about quick foods, as opposed to Fast Food. One will satisfy and keep me on track, and the other will drain my wallet and energy and health, all while only feigning to save me time, because of course I would have to leave the field of my current endeavors for longer just to drive to a fast food joint and back than I do to make a swift pass at the refrigerator and/or microwave on fly-by breaks from the packing. Nothing wrong with taking a fast food break, as indeed, we will do tonight because the chaos in the house is at such a peak there’s no real place to sit down and eat, never mind whether I can rustle up any edibles when the counters, the space in front of the fridge, the cooktop, the pans and pots and utensils, the microwave, and pretty much everything else cooking or food related is virtually inaccessible. But by tomorrow I hope to have cleared a path again, enough so I can rely on my old standby cures for lack of time.

Photo: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beef_bourguignon

Desperation Dining 1: if there’s a one-dish meal lying in wait in the freezer, yay! Something like a bowl of quickly microwaved beef stew Bourguignon-style is practical, hearty, and will stay with me through more busyness before the day is through.

Photo: Desperation Dining 2

Desperation Dining 2: a big glass of water and a couple of protein bars, especially homemade ones like these chocolate-peanut butter ones and citrus ones, can keep me moving while the clock’s ticking.

Photo: Desperation Dining 3

Desperation Dining 3: a bit of a sugar rush is sometimes just what I need to continue working for a while, so why not a piece of fabulous fruit to hold me over until it’s *actual* mealtime. Add a little cheese, and it feels like it’s nearly a meal. Add a bowl of popcorn *and* some cheese, and it’s Sunday evening supper! In my house, anyway.

Photo: Desperation Dining 4

Desperation Dining 4: My eternal friend the Egg is a constant companion in times of high-speed living, whether it’s scrambled or fried or whipped into a lemony hot mousse for microwaving—or it’s going, raw, into my coconut milk smoothies, because I’m a fiend for eggnogs of all sorts. If you tell me to Go Suck Eggs, I will take it as a mandate, not an insult.

Photo: Desperation Dining 5

Desperation Dining 5: there are times, I will confess, when the desperation becomes closer to the real thing, and I am so tired of pedaling faster, ever faster, that what I not only crave but need is to stop, sit down on any bare spot of furniture or floor or dirt, and slurp at a drink. It may be the aforementioned water, it might be juice, and on special occasions, it could be that what’s required is something equally special to perk me back into a semblance of good cheer and energy. A fine lemon verbena drink with mint-leaf ice cubes, chilled cucumber slices and candied mandarin orange segments, with or without alcohol, is a good way to forget for a moment or ten that life is continuing to race onward, with or without *me*.

A Rotten Rogue

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Digital illo: Scurrilous ScoundrelUnpleasant Before & After

Scabrous to scurrilous, sure to offend,

Senses assaulted and stench without end,

Here on the ash-heap of history, I

Will most be remembered as that Awful Guy.

Scarlet & Emerald

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Photo: Scarlet Painted GlassA world of contrasts lies between the powerful opposites among all the colors we can see.  In the space between those beautiful extremes, between the flame of orange and the deep sea of indigo, between scarlet and emerald, is where we can begin to take the measure of our understanding of the visible world. And in the knowing, we can rejoice in the wideness of the visible world that resides between late-night violet and the dazzling yellow of daffodil petals newly sprung, between scarlet and emerald.Photo: Emerald Green Glass

Sunniest Side Up

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Digital illo: Lemon or LemonadeIt’s said that if life hands you lemons, you should make lemonade. That’s a charmingly cheery, sunshiny idea, and one that seems plenty valuable to me, if perhaps occasionally a bit difficult to realize. Even life’s complications can have complications.

That’s why your best bet is to have the finest lemonade-makers handily available to you throughout your life.

I’ve always done well in this department. I was, in fact, born to one of the premier practitioners of both literal and figurative lemonade artistry. Having just chatted with her on this, her birthday, I can confirm that she is still as gifted at it as she is a gift. Mom, whatever the lemon crop at hand, makes the finest sunshiny lemonade out of it. The day may be rainy, as it has been up there today, but I could sense the warmth and light as soon as I heard her voice. It’s a grand thing to feel as though I’ve just sipped that most summery citrus drink when I hear my mother’s voice. It makes me glad that she is having an appropriate day of good cheer and pleasantness for celebrating her birthday. And it makes me glad that I have the blessed privilege of having a mom who retains her skills for day-brightening as the birthdays pass. Who knows but what I might master the recipe for lemonade myself, if I stick by her side and learn from the best.

Happy birthday, Mom! May there be many more, each filled with the most refreshing and renewing joys that, if they’re not already as much a treat as you desire, can be converted with a bit of your special knowledge and skill into the most wonderful lemonade. Cheers!Digital illo: Sunny Sunflower

Selfie of the Day

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A marvelous post I read yesterday by the amazing Joseph P. Kanski at his blog  Implied Spaces—illustrated with his simply spectacular images, each of them in its unique way a self-portrait—mused on the whole topic of self-portraiture and autobiography, considering what the artists and authors in question are choosing to reveal or conceal, to present or pretend. Every time we interact, or for that matter, fail to or choose not to interact, we are making statements. Some of us are constantly focused on, and perhaps occasionally obsessed with, the verity or clarity of what we present to the world.

People in hiding are not limited to refugees and criminals on the run. Many of us assure ourselves that we are being thoughtful, mindful, when we speak and act, yet there are so many more delicate and subtle bits of identity emanating from us at all times that it would be utterly impossible to control every iota of sensory information we convey, never mind how others in all of their complexity are receiving and interpreting the whole. Regardless of the natural intent most of us have to reinforce our own ideals and wishes, we tend to speak volumes in the myriad ways we present ourselves to the world. The challenge to be true to ourselves only increases with maturation and self-knowledge as we grow and age.

In the present culture of self-revelation, this is, as Mr. Kanski observes, a time when any and every image we present is widely and rather permanently available to be seen and interpreted by ever-increasing numbers, most of whom we will never come to know in any true sense. No time like the present, then, for reevaluating what those revelations are, can be, or should be, according to our own estimation. My hopes and fears inevitably become more visible or available for speculation in every self-image that I offer, so perhaps I shall just see how close I can get to telling my story the way I want to tell it.

My latest: Selfie, 2.0.

Digital illo: Selfie 2.0

The updated version—still Me, more Me, less Me? I’m sure it only depends on whom you ask.

A Real Head-Scratcher

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Photo: Hairy Alien 1Hair-Raising Conundrums

What a puzzler it is that misty weather makes hair frizz

but rainy weather turns it flat—what kind of logic lies in that?

How, if light pressure makes unfurl what tighter tension leads to curl?

And why our nature is it called, that time grows hair more—or makes bald?

Makes me afraid the wond’ring fright could lead to greying overnight;

I s’pose it’s normal, to be fair, but find I’m tearing out my hair.

When it’s explained, sure I’ll be dead…

‘Least I’ll have moss atop my head.Photo: Hairy Alien 2

Please Don’t Misapprehend My Apprehension

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Photo: ApprehensionOne of my greatest worries is, and always has been, the fear of being misunderstood. Not in the sense of “poor me, I’m an unappreciated genius,” but as in dreading that anyone would think I was saying a bad or mean or insensitive thing when I think I’m doing quite the opposite. This is not an unfounded or inexperienced kind of fear, either. For all that I am so verbal-cum-verbose and try hard to craft my thoughts into words fittingly, I find that the things that matter most to me, especially in moments of intense feeling, become far more difficult to express exactly as I’d wish, and I grow either dumb with the weight of my fine intentions or simply scrambled in what I blurt out in the moment.

Even when I believe I’m at my most cogent and persuasive, I often find I’ve stepped firmly on the tender feelings of those whom I would least wish to offend, and while I am heartily sorry for that and try to be honestly mild and penitent in my responses if they tell me I’ve put my foot wrong, I can’t always undo the hard feelings I’ve inadvertently engendered. Sometimes it’s because I’m left in the dark: even those with whom we’re close can be too wounded or unsure of how to respond and will never tell us we’ve struck a nerve; they might go off silently, nursing their hurt without letting us make amends. Some, too, will bite back at what they consider an affront, but then disappear in a dust-cloud of hasty retreat before I can rephrase to say what I had really meant, apologize, or, in the rare cases when we cannot see eye to eye no matter what, say with due respect that I don’t harbor any ill-will but beg to differ. That, at least, assumes neither of us is a villain or an ignoramus but that our sincere efforts have led us to quite different conclusions. Silence cannot explain, clarify, forgive, or ask for forgiveness, and it certainly cannot open the ears that have been stopped up by anyone’s fixed assumption of my guilt.

And most of all, it can’t allow me to learn from my mistakes, when I fail to convey what I’ve tried so hard to convey. That’s what keeps me awake too late and too long, fussing over the wording of what should, perhaps, have been an easily stated idea or even a passing thought, because I convinced myself, whether through experience or through overwrought and paranoid worrying, it was going to give somebody—anybody—the wrong idea about me.

And there is where I finally spot the heart of the real problem: it’s not all about me, much as I josh about being the center of the universe or pretend that I’m so important. Every other person in the world will never be on the same wavelength I am, not in the things we believe, in the ways we think about them, or perhaps especially, in the ways we express them—or try to do it. And every other person in the world is not going to agree that what I think respectful or complimentary seems that way to them. To expect that kind of universal acceptance is folly; to wish for it is vain; to stay up past my bedtime trying to achieve it is merely asking for trouble.

Surrendering to the plain fact that my imperfection is bound to meet up with others’ occasional misapprehension of my meaning is not total capitulation. But as it might mean I get a better night’s sleep, I do think it worth a try.Photo: Misapprehension

Foodie Tuesday Evening

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Update: Yup, it does taste pretty dandy. I like my vegetable experiment. And I will eat it a number of times in the next few days, without regret. Now I can safely recommend it to you, too.Photo: Squashroom Casserole

Foodie Tuesday: Cogitation on Vegetation

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Sometimes I just plain crave vegetable goodness. I am an omnivore, generally, and probably something of an addict when it comes to eggs and dairy, but there is nothing to substitute for vegetal deliciousness, at times. Green, give me green! Or at least, things that were growing on and as plants.

For there are so many wonderful non-green vegetable delights, as well. So when veggies call, I answer. Who am I to refuse the marvelous joys of the garden?

Today’s foray: back in the land of cauliflower. I find it to be a remarkably fine ingredient, highly adaptable and versatile despite being relatively strong flavored, because its strength is balanced by an indefinable character that isn’t quite this or that, inherently, so much as a strong framework for other flavors. A great companion or substrate, if you will, for a great number of other kinds of flavors and textures.

Today, I wanted an umami-filled comfort food, and while cauliflower easily gives the texture I want, it is not itself inherently umami loaded. Mushrooms, ah, even the most humble among those are crammed with umami. The recipe, typical of my cooking, is not a recipe at all, but it takes advantage of the strengths of cauliflower and a few other modest yet potent ingredients to pull in the richness of umami as best I could imagine at the moment.

I suspect that in future iterations of this dish I will likely add a deeply green ingredient (spinach? broccoli? collards?) or two. Those are so fulfilling in a wholly different way, seeming rather cleansing to me, and refreshing and lightening and brightening. But that sort of character is not necessary to the pleasure of vegetable dishes in general, as sometimes (especially in fall and winter) what I want from vegetables is a sense of warmth and earthiness. This time, cruciferous and fungal and spiced earthiness, combined with dairy and egg intensity to create a rich, full, round sensory experience best served warm at a candlelit table, no matter what the hour.

Cauliflower, Cheese & “Squashroom” Casserole

Take one head of cauliflower and a pint of white or brown common mushrooms, raw, and pulse them all in the food processor until coarsely minced. Spoon the mixture into a large cake pan or casserole that’s been thoroughly greased (I used coconut oil), and sprinkle with coarsely ground salt and pepper, smoked paprika, brown mustard seeds, and freshly grated nutmeg. Top with about two or three cups of sliced zucchini (I used yellow) and a cup of shredded Parmesan cheese, drizzle with 1/4 cup melted brown butter, spritz again with oil to even out the coating, and bake at 250°F/121°C for an hour or until softened and melding flavors. While that’s baking, mix one 12-14 oz. tin of chopped or pureed unsalted tomatoes, an equal amount of plain whole-milk Greek yogurt, three large eggs, and 1-1/2 cups of shredded cheese (I used mozzarella, which I had in the freezer, but cheddar or any kind of mild-to-sharp melting cheese should do) together thoroughly. Stir and/or layer this with the softened vegetables and bake at 350°F/177°C for another half hour to 45 minutes or until the cheese is thickening and bubbling nicely. I added a coating of crushed corn flake crumbs with Italian seasoning over the top of this before baking to vary the texture just a little, and while it looked a little odd in the baking, it smelled great.

I can only assume that this concoction will pass muster (never mind mustard) when I serve it for lunch later this week after refrigerating it to set it up a bit and then reheating it for the meal, but given that it’s fairly close to the cauliflower pretend-mac-&-cheese I made before I am trusting in the ingredients to behave well together. If you are a reasonably trusting or adventurous spirit, jump in; if not, wait for the verdict later this week (I’ll update this then). For now, here’s the Phase I picture, and I feel pretty confident.

Or does that just prove that I’m a vegetable, too?Photo: I'm a Vegetable, Too

Little Dragon in Her Nest

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Where do baby dragons come from, anyway? Clearly every dragon mom needs to find a welcoming, inspiring environment that moves her to nestle in and protect her offspring from their hatching to their fledgling flights. Or a cozy place to knock them out of when she  gets fed up with their caterwauling and biting and she can retreat to her peaceful hangout and sip nectar in blissful, scaly solitude again.

So I made this little lady a nest. Full of tiny collected treasures, ’cause I think that might be something a small dragon would like. I mean, I would, and I can be kind of a dragon-lady occasionally. Though I have no intention of laying any dragon eggs or anything like that, in case you were wondering. I doubt I’d be a good enough mother for ’em anyway, being too inattentive for that when I’m already so busy collecting shiny objects and tiny treasures to make fanciful dragons’ nests.

Ah, the complicated life of a fantasist.Found-object sculpture: Little Dragon's Nest