Big Love in a Little Kitchen

Toast and Grape Juice

2012-01-29T19:14:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine lost her dad to cancer last week. I know that's not really the best way to begin any sort of post, but at least it tells you, invisible reader, that this post will in some way be about death. My friend's dad died of liver cancer, same as my dad. Different kind of liver cancer, but liver cancer. Because her dad got sick before my dad did (he'd been sick for about six years by the time he passed last week), we have had this sort of tandem-like movement over the last few years.

Somewhere in the space between writing a post about living bread and my friend's dad dying, I was reminded of an event I shared with my dad about a month before he died. During the last two months of his life, we saw him go down a pretty steep decline, and even though I'd been preparing for the inevitability of his passing for quite some time, I don't know that I was ready for the reality of it once it arrived--at least, not the INEVITABILITY of it. That's really a story for another time, though; tonight I want to talk about the last and only time I served my dad communion.

As he got sicker and sicker, my dad's appetite slacked off more and more. As my mom tried to find different ways of getting enough protein into him, he lost his taste for one food after another. Toward the end he primarily ate yogurt, popsicles, toast, and grape juice. I've no idea why those foods, but that's where he was. So, anyway, I was in the kitchen of their house, and he kind of hobbled into the room and headed for his favorite recliner. I helped him sit down and cover up with a blanket, and he asked me if I might make him some toast and get him some juice.

As I was toasting the bread, I thought about a story my church history professor told us as she was explaining her understanding of the incarnation. The way she told her story, a few years after relocating to Richmond to begin teaching at seminary, she relocated her parents to Richmond as well. Within a few weeks of the move her father suffered a massive stroke. While sitting next to her father in the hospital room, my professor was thinking of what it meant for Christ to have taken on the "form" of flesh, to have assumed the pattern of what it means to be an embodied human being in addition to having his own physical form, and she had the sudden understanding that if God in Christ has taken on the pattern and form of humanity, he resides in our flesh as well as in his own. I guess it makes sense that it is during these pregnant moments that we get some clarity of our understanding of God and the world, and our relation to both; but during that moment and those shortly after, when I helped my dad sip his grape juice, and served him dry toast, I understood communion in a way that I never did before, and I don't know when in the future I will share communion with people and not think back to that moment with him.

To add to my professor's experience: it became clear to me at some point that not only does Christ share our flesh, but that the spirit of God is shared among us--all of us. In those moments of breaking bread and drinking wine, if we allow ourselves to look at one another, and to see the indwelling divinity we share, we become tapped into that divinity, transcending our own self and space and time while remaining exactly who and where and when we are. There may be something metaphysical about it, I don't know, but I do know that in that moment of being open to my dad, of seeing him as he was dying, I was able to see him as I never had before. The bread and grape juice became something more; we became something more. Ordinary food, ordinary room, ordinary people, sharing an extraordinary experience.

Getting back into it

2012-01-25T20:58:00.000-08:00

I baked bread tonight for the first time in a long time. Correction: tonight I kneaded bread tonight for the first time in a long time. A couple of years ago, I was baking bread almost daily - it was part of my routine, and I managed to work it in basically anywhere. Gosh, I don't even know when or how the routine started to change, but bread baking slowly slipped out of the scene. I've tried to get back into it a few times, and have done so with some regularity here and there, but I found that if I started using a food processor, instead of kneading by hand, I could work faster. But tonight, as I was mulling over the details of a final project I've got due for a class, I went downstairs and started baking bread. Just a simple whole wheat bread--easy to do if you've got a few hours for the rising, no need for a food processor. It was when I was kneading the bread that I remembered why I love baking bread so much. I like to eat it, sure, but the part I really love is that experience of kneading the bread--of taking a mush of flour, yeast, salt, water, and oil, and seeing it firm up. As I kneaded, the goopy mess started to get a bit of...umpf...to it, and as I felt the warmth of it beneath my hands, I started to think about it as a living thing.

I know I've been in seminary too long when I start to think about the living bread I'm kneading into a ball, but the more I think about the power of sharing a meal with someone, the more powerful I realize it is to share a meal with someone. I read a book last week called Mighty Stories, Dangerous Rituals, and was struck by one passage:

"Jesus literally ate his way through the Gospels. And, as remembered over and over again in the Gospels, they killed him because of the way he ate; that is, because he ate and drank with sinners. Apart from the many table tales, the Gospels also remember that Jesus spoke in table metaphors. When he wasn't at a banquet he was telling a story about a banquet. When he wasn't teaching that bread can be a vehicle of God's presence, he was talking about bread as a way to discipleship for those who wished to live as his body in the world."

Since I last posted on this blog, life has kind of been on high speed. I said goodbye to my dad, who died in June, and to my grandpa a month before him. We got married, and are talking kids. In the fall, I started working with LGBTQ youth, and have found a certain fire in my belly over the lack of care given to these youth. We have also planted a garden, and I'm learning how to ask for help, and to trust and forgive myself more (ever a process). Our church started a Supper Church service, where we gathered together to make a meal and worship around the table. I guess I say all of that because in a lot of ways for me, it keeps coming back to food. I could rant all day about the need for more active conversations in the church about the needs of LGBTQ people, or racism, or poverty, but there is something that happens if you can actually sit down at a table with someone whom you perceive as different--break bread with them, talk to them, give yourself the opportunity to really see them.

In thinking about my "living bread" moment earlier this evening, I think about this thing which is so very simple, and still relatively inexpensive to make. And yet, when shared (and especially when shared between people who allow themselves to be present to the act of sharing), it has the potential to be so rich and so full and, dare I say it, so alive.

beet soup

2011-12-06T18:42:00.000-08:00

6 roasted beets

1 onion, diced

butter/olive oil, about a tablespoon

2 star anise

1 bay leaf

3 c broth (any kind)

2 t cider vinegar (I use Braggs)

1/2t cardamom

So I had roasted beets in the refrigerator which I cut into quarters. In a soup pot I heat olive oil and butter (about 1T total) and cooked a chopped onion. I tossed in the anise and cardamom and cooked the onion until it was soft. Then I added broth, vinegar, and a bay leaf and let it cook for about 10 minutes. Added the beets and cooked another 10 minutes. Removed the bay leaf and anise. Blended the soup until it was smooth

Triple C Bisque

2011-09-29T19:33:00.000-07:00

bring these items to a simmer in a pot until the carrots are tender:
4c broth
6c chopped carrots
3 cloves garlic
1 thumbs worth of ginger

add:
1/4c cashew butter
1 can coconut milk

blend everything together, season with salt, and garnish with thai basil and chopped cashews

YUMMY!

oohey, gooey brownies

2011-09-10T16:16:00.000-07:00

An oh so awesome team effort in the kitchen (adapted from this recipe)

1 stick (1/2c) butter, melted

1 c sugar (you could easily get away with 3/4 c)

1 t vanilla extract

2 eggs

1/2 c flour

1/3 c unsweetened cocoa powder

1/4 t baking powder

1/4 t salt

1/3 c chocolate chips
8 caramel candies (We used Celtic sea salt caramels... Oh MY!)

1/4 t coarse sea salt for garnish

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).

2. Grease a square baking pan.(I think ours was 8"x8")

3. Cut caramel candies into chocolate chip sized pieces.

4. Whisk together the butter, sugar, and vanilla. Whisk in eggs.

5. Combine flour, cocoa, baking powder, chocolate chips and salt in a separate bowl.

6. Gradually stir dry ingredients into wet ingredients until well blended.

7. Spread half the batter into the pan.

8. Sprinkle the caramels evenly across the pan and cover with the remaining batter, spreading it evenly.

9. Sprinkle the brownie mix with coarse sea salt.

10. Bake for 25ish minutes. (The brownies will begin to pull away from the edge of pan.)

11. Let cool on a wire rack for 15 minutes and then in the refrigerator at least 30 minutes before cutting into squares.

These will be gooey like fudge, not at all cakey, but oh so delicious! (served with ice cream, of course!) If you have any leftovers, store them in the refrigerator.

Mrs. Noell's Cookies

2011-09-05T15:19:00.000-07:00

My favorite cookies growing up were these fantastic refrigerator cookies my grandmother made. They were her mom's recipe. (In case your wondering, my name happens to be my grandmother's maiden name.) Typically she would only make them for big events, like my dad's 60th birthday, or someone's anniversary, or a church reception following a funeral. I loved them and would usually be allowed to eat the ends of the rolls. The dough had to sit in the fridge or freezer for at least 24 hours as a wax paper wrapped log. The rounded ends weren't nearly as attractive as slices from the middle, so I felt it my duty to dispose of the ugly ones.

I remember begging my grandmother for the recipe, but she always said it was a secret. When I was in my early twenties my grandmother started to suffer from the effects of alzheimer's and no longer remembered she wasn't sharing the recipe. She turned it into the church cookbook committee and now I have a copy of it along with a multitude of East Texas who sadly may never make it because chocolate isn't involved. I should also admit to you that I don't make the cookies very often myself. I understand now why they were for special occasions--they're a little more involved than you basic drop cookie. They require early preparation, rolling, cutting, wax paper for storage, and the recipe makes a lot of cookies. When I'm feeling nostalgic and I miss my Nanny, I often opt for the spice blend used in her cookies, but mix it into a drop cookie recipe instead. That's what I did today, so you can call these Ms. Noell's cookies!

blend together:
2 sticks butter
1/2 c white sugar
1/2 c brown sugar

I usually let the mixer run for about 5 minutes until this mixture is really light and fluffy, then add 2 eggs, one at a time, mixing thouroughly

add:
1 t lemon juice
1 t vanilla extract

scrape the sides of the bowl and then mix in:
1 T freshly ground nutmeg
1 T cinnamon
2 c flour (if you scoop straight from the bin, 2 1/2 c flour if you scoop and pour into your measuring cup)
1 c unsweetened coconut shreds
1 c dried cranberries, chopped
1 c chopped nuts (pecans, walnuts, hazelnuts, or pistachios--if you are baking for someone with allergies, leave the nuts out)

Make sure everything is well blended. If you have time, let the dough sit in the fridge for an hour or overnight. preheat oven to 375° Scoop by heaping teaspoons onto a cookie sheet, leaving room between the cookies for them to flatten. Bake for about 11 minutes, or until the edges are brown. Remove from oven and cool on the pan for two minutes. Transfer to a cooling rack. Store in a cookie tin. Cookies will keep in the freezer for several months.

a savory crostata

2011-07-23T17:01:00.000-07:00

I was looking for something to make for dinner and I stumbled upon some fruit crostatas (a yummy looking dessert!)... and decided I'd make a savory one for dinner... we have a boatload of cherry tomatoes, half a bag of frozen spinach, a ton of yellow onions, some garlic, and some vegan "sausage" I've been meaning to use for a while. So I'm attempting to whip up some goodness.

There isn't any cheese in the house (if there were, we'd be enjoying goat cheese covered with a fabulous jalepeno strawberry jam a parishoner gave me during VBS week). Also, there's a storm rolling in so I don't feel like trekking to the store for one ingredient!So this is a cheeseless tart. It's readying itself, so I'll tell you what the ingredients are...

crust: 155g flour, 2 pinches of salt, chopped rosemary (about 2T worth), 2t sugar, and 6T butter, some ice water to make the dough come together. That was rolled out into an ovular shape, placed on a cookie sheet with the ends rolled up to make an edge.I cooked the crust for 10 minutes at 375.

the topping...

in one pan I caramelized onions, added the sausage, added a sweet cayenne pepper from the garden, and the half bag of spinach, plus a pinch of salt. spread this on the crust, then make two indentations with the back of a soup spoon in the middle of the tart (you're reserving this space for the eggs)

in a second pan I cooked chopped garlic and cherry tomatoes in balsamic vinegar and olive oil for about 15 minutes. I took the tomatoes and garlic out of the liquid and I spread this around on top of the green sausage mix. I cooked down the liquid to use as a garnish at the end.

I cooked the tart for 15 more minutes, then I pulled it out of the oven an dropped a raw egg into each indentation. Put everything back in the oven until the eggs whites set. I cooked it 17 minutes and got mostly cooked yolks, Drizzle the eggs with the thickened balsamic vinegar mix leftover from the tomat's.

This was yummy. Next time I would remove sugar from the crust entirely and up the salt slightly. I will probably also try cooking 12-15 minutes after adding eggs to achieve the runny yolks I prefer.

For dessert we had blueberry cobbler cooked in my favorite cast iron skillet. In the pan: 2c bluberries tossed with 1T sugar, 1/2t cinnamon, a dash of nutmeg, 2T flour, and 3 T lemon juice. For the topping: 80g white wheat flour, 1/3csugar, 1/4t salt, 1/4t baking powder, 1t vanilla, dash of cinnamon and nutmeg, 1 stick melted butter, and 1 egg. Mix it all together and spread it over the blueberries. Cook 40-50 minutes at 375. Let it cool for 10 minutes. I drizzled the servings with fresh raw cream and honey. DELISH!

easy bread?

2011-07-15T16:42:00.000-07:00

ok, I'm trying this no-knead bread craze out (i'll leave the hard work to Jess!)... I read a whole bunch of websites and blogs posting a variety of recipes and this is what I'm trying:

3 c King Arthur White Wheat flour
1T vital wheat gluten
1t salt
.5t yeast (not instant)
1t braggs cider vinegar
1.75c warm water

I mixed it up and covered it with the shower cap. Will check on it sometime tomorrow morning or afternoon.

I'll let you know tomorrow if it worked.

yummy pasta

2011-03-20T18:32:00.000-07:00

sorry there aren't photos, I didn't know I'd like it enough to write it down!

I cooked 8 cloves of garlic in 1/4c olive oil along with 1/2 c walnuts--tossed all that in the food processor with salt and a cup of frozen spinach and set it aside.

brought 3.5 c water to a boil with 2 bouillon cubes. added 4 handfuls of orrechiette and cooked 15 minutes. Then stirred in my processed mix with the pasta and remaining liquid.

put the pasta in bowls and added a poached egg to each. salt and pepper. DEEEEEEElicious!

CAKE!

2010-10-17T19:08:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we got married! (YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Today we hosted a birthday dinner for our friend Loretta. We had lasagna for dinner and I'd been told that Loretta likes tiramisu. Now, I've never made tiramisu, and it ended up being a pretty busy weekend, so I decided to make a tiramisu inspired cake!

It was chocolate cake moistened with a coffee syrup. The filling was tiramisu's cream that is made with marscapone. (I added orange extract for an extra zing.) It was frosted with orange flavored seven minute frosting. Then I dipped lady fingers in the coffee syrup and lined the perimeter of the cake with them. To finish, I shaved dark chocolate with the microplane for a garnish.

Everyone really seemed to enjoy dessert, so it went fabulous as far as I'm concerned! :)

What a great weekend! HOORAY

almost married!

2010-10-07T21:37:00.001-07:00

today we applied for a marriage license--WOOHOO!!!!!!! :) Now I'm baking my first ever coconut cake for a dear friend's birthday. life is good.

new and exciting!

2010-10-03T17:44:00.000-07:00

today we discovered fresh ginger root at the farmer's market in dc! you can see what it looks like here...

unlike the cured stuff you find in the store, this is tender, oh so spicy, and downright delicious. So I made stir fry and it was most definitely a "visit the kitchen for seconds" meal.

since you've been gone...

2010-10-03T14:48:00.000-07:00

Hello friends! I wanted to let you know we haven't disappeared from the face of the planet. Since our last post we have moved (and now have a kitchen 3 times the size of the little one) and are planning a wedding!

This week in the kitchen I've been experimenting (because I should be writing curriculum) with shortbread. So far I've tried a brown sugar lavender and a toffee chocolate chip.... both were good but have an unidentifiable aftertaste I don't really like... I've decided this is a) because our cookie sheet is due for a hardcore cleaning, or b) because I used earth balance (part of our attempt to use fewer animal products and enjoy a lower cholesterol diet). I know I know, a recipe is only as good as the ingredients you use, so this week I'll attempt shortbread again with my oh so favorite (oh so bad for me) butter!

I'll let you know how it all turns out. In the meantime, if you're looking for yummy recipes, check out smitten kitchen!

Sorbet!!!!

2010-04-04T18:49:00.000-07:00

Our beloved neighbors have an ice maker that we hijacked today to make sorbet! We put 3 c Santa Cruz Organic Berry Nectar in a saucepan with 3 T lemon juice, 3/4c sugar, and a chopped finger's worth of ginger root. Brought it to a boil, then turned it down and simmered for 5 minutes. then turned off the heat and let it sit about 30 minutes. Put it in the fridge and forgot about it. Later, we remembered, strained out the ginger, added 1 T triple sec, and 1/2c frozen raspberries. Poured it into the ice cream maker and voila! It is sooooooooo good! :) HOORAY!

Bread...

2010-02-14T13:25:00.001-08:00

I have mentioned before my love of bread-baking, and I feel confident that this will not be the last time I do so. I've been in the midst of beginning the process of building starters, both for a typical sourdough and for a rye sourdough. Because N. is allergic to yeast, developing sourdough starters with wild yeast has been an interesting adventure. I've found that using pineapple (or orange, or lemon) juice helps to get in some of the acidity and fermentation (about which I know very very little) and, more than anything, it helps develop the gas bubbles in the starter that are so desired:

which becomes this:

and then, if you're lucky, this (these are actually my friend A's boules; I can't help but chuckle when I see them, little buns that they are...):

I felt profoundly connected to the process of bread baking from the first loaf I made. Making sourdough, or any other bread requiring some sort of starter, however, is a test in patience. It's not a matter of hours, which is in itself a process, but a matter of days. The stater must be maintained every three days, which makes it a constant ongoing process in a way. They say that if you are thinking of having a child, it is a good idea to start with a plant, then a pet, etc. I've got many plants and two pets, and I've got to say that maintaining the starter is just as much a process!

So, why bread. Well, for me, there are so many layers. I love connecting with the process of a living organism. I took a lot of ceramics in undergrad, so there is a similar experience in relating to a lump of ingredients and working to make it into something beautiful. Making a shot of espresso is much the same; there is a mix of both precision and instinct in the process. I can measure everything out, watch the time to a T, but things generally go much better if I just follow motor memory and take my head out of the process. I love getting lost in kneading a loaf of bread, or wondering who might enjoy the second loaf in a batch. Bread is such a basic food, made of flour and water, really. Other elements come in for different breads, but it is so basic, so simple. Every loaf is different, just like every shot of espresso or every handmade mug is different. Each is an experience to be had, a possibility for a little shimmer of joy or warmth or rest in the midst of an otherwise chaotic world. It is the profound simplicity in these elements (pushing eucharistic undertones here, I know) that speaks to their power. In breaking bread together, we are enjoying a meal from one loaf, which is connected back to a starter, which will make many more loaves, given to many more people, shared over meals or toasted with jam for breakfast. I have already given part of my starter to A, who is new to bread baking. Thinking then to the connections as they extrapolate outward. All from a little flour and water and, in this case, pineapple juice.

a vegan-y weekend

2010-02-08T08:47:00.001-08:00

on Friday we made gnocchi for the second time this year... Beet and Rutabaga--YUM! This time we added less flour which was helpful, it resulted in a tender, rather than tough, dumpling... we served the gnocchi with peas, toasted spiced pecans, salt, pepper, and olive oil... it was delicious, but would have been better at 7 rather than 10:30--mentally note: start time consuming food projects earlier in the day!

on Saturday we made vegan butternut squash soup--i roasted squash with sweet curry powder, earth balance, cloves of garlic, an onion, and half an apple. threw it all in a pot with some veggie broth and pulled out the immersion blender. then added a can of coconut milk and a can of light coconut milk... a bit of cayenne, salt, and brown sugar.... topped with spiced walnuts (curry, cayenne, salt, brown sugar).... it was AWESOME!

on sunday we mixed the dishes together and they tasted great. YAY for being snowed in and playing in the kitchen!

the best part was the sourdough yessie made from Pineapple juice--it was sour and tender and AMAZING! i love her :)

February

2010-02-02T20:04:00.000-08:00

It's cold outside. Yes, this is part of February, I know, and I continue to stare in wonder outside as the snow begins to fall again. As a Texan-transplant, the snow still maintains a sense of magic for me. It isn't layers of ice, deceptively clear enough to lure you into an assured walk, only to fall hard on your hip or face. That is here, certainly, but it is surrounded by this...snow. I have been feeling kind of melancholy in the midst of all of it, though I'm not entirely sure why. I have been so tired that I work myself into a bit of insomnia. This morning, upon waking at four-thirty and tossing for an hour-and-a-half, I decided to head downstairs and bake a loaf of bread. I realized I could finish a loaf before class started at 10:30, and I went to work on a cinnamon-swirl loaf. I shared a loaf with a friend who has a birthday tomorrow, and realized once again how much a certain part of me longs to be in the kitchen. In the midst of kneading a sourdough this afternoon, I realized I was learning how to react to the bread. It sounds odd, I know, but I have found a remarkable connection with the process of baking bread, with feeling the soft dough form under my hands, as I work with it, and it responds to me. Bread, with all of its simplicity, is remarkably complex. I'm not sure what it is, but in the midst of the cold, majestic frozen flakes that fall outside, I found myself at home in the snugness of my kitchen, as my love slept soundly upstairs. I joined her there shortly after putting the dough out for its first rising, to catch an hour of long-sought after sleep and rested in the soft smell of flour on my shirt and the feeling of arms wrapped unconsciously and lovingly around me. It was the best sleep I'd had in days...

I'm too tired to write more now, and am slipping into sleep even as I write.

Peace and Grace

muffins!

2010-01-28T19:20:00.001-08:00

they taste good! I think next time I make them I might add 1/4 c of molasses... and maybe double the spice... if you like sweet muffins double the sugar...

2010-01-28T18:27:00.000-08:00

I just made up a vegan muffin recipe... it may suck, but i'm going to type it up before i forget in case it doesn't...

in the first bowl:
1 1/2 c pumpking puree
1/3 c brown sugar
3 T oil
1 T vanilla
1t cider vinegar

in the second bowl:
2 c white whole wheat flour
2 t baking soda
1 t salt
2 t cinnamon
1/2 t each: ginger, cloves, nutmeg
1 1/2 c pecans

combine the bowls. cook at 350 for 20-30 minutes. yields 12-18 regular or 6-9 jumbo muffins (depending on the fulness of the muffin cups).

i'll let you know if it's any good in about 15 minutes!

New Year.

2010-01-19T12:31:00.000-08:00

Well, somehow time seems to be getting away from me in the way it does; I laugh at myself when I look up wondering where life has gone, and how the days seem to move so much faster than they have before. I mean, I am only 30...

Without going into any gruesome details, N, myself, and our dog Sophie made a trip to and from Texas over the holidays. We were hit with about 10 inches of snow the day before we originally intended to leave, so we had a couple of extra days here at home for which we were both grateful. All-in-all it was a good trip, though it seems like ages ago (therein another comment about time-is it moving fast or slow??). I've posted some pics of our food adventures; the first of which sums up our trip to Texas, with ground beef simmering on the stove waiting to be added to chalupas. Much meat was consumed, capped off with a new year's day celebration (back in VA by then) with black eyed peas plus ham-hock and, well, bacon. We have since slipped back into fare that suits our stomachs a bit better. I was excited about a new rye starter, which grew beautifully (photo of the profile of the starter with all of the air holes), only to realize neither of us is a big fan of rye flour. Go figure...

All of this to say that we are both busier than we would like to be, but are glad to be back into the swing of things. We're finishing up a January term on the meaning of the death of Christ, which I will not even begin to go into here today; I'm exhausted and have reading to do and meetings this evening. But, yes, our home is filled with good smells of soup on the stove and the sunlight continues to do its magic as it comes through the leaves of the plants piled in the front window, all reaching toward the light as they stay warm through the winter...

Peace

Finals...

2009-12-16T09:31:00.000-08:00

Totally overwhelmed and in the midst of finals right now, so not much time to write. I did venture into my first french bread/sourdough adventure yesterday, which went pretty well. Pictures of all the kitchen adventures to come...

Must return to theology; trying to sort through natural evil and the nature of God. Nothing like a little light theology to get one going in the middle of a week...

Cheers.

2009-12-14T08:38:00.001-08:00

today i learned it is possible to make powdered sugar if i don't feel like trekking to the store. blender+sugar=base for icing. yessie made cinnamon rolls last night and we baked them this morning. i am, for whatever reason, in charge of frostings in our house, so that's why the blender and sugar jar came out to play.

i love our kitchen although it is a mess.

i love our life. our home is warm and glowing with light. our animals are snuggly. our hearts are full. our wallets are empty, but that's probably par for the course, yeah?

Ciabatta

2009-12-11T16:49:00.000-08:00

More of other people's words today:

Dar Williams, Calling the Moon
The moon wanted more of my night
I turned off the engine and the headlights
The trees appeared as they'd never been gone
I promised the fields I'd return from now on

And the moon kept on rising
I had no more to say
I put my roadmaps away
And surendered the day

And I know you'll be calling me soon
And if I don't answer, I'm calling the moon
Calling the moon, I was calling her then
I'm wondering, will she take me again
Oh, I'm calling the moon

When I called the moon back to me
I thought she wanted my beauty
I shone in the best that vanity buys
I covered the path where my life turned to lies

And the moon kept on rising
But I felt nothing at all
She comes when the empire falls
And shines on crumbling walls

Calling the moon, by the name that she chose
As Tennessee wandered in moth-eaten robes
Oh, I'm calling the moon
Calling the moon
Oh, I'm calling the moon

Oh, make sense of me, night
I can see so much from this cold height
The moon said, "Oh darkness, my work is done
I've poured this bottle of light from the sun

But their anger keeps on rising
And they don't understand
I've shown them all that I can
That the world is at hand

And I know they'll be calling me soon
And if I don't answer I'm only the moon
I can see by her light
This one's going out to the moon tonight
Oh, I'm calling the moon

Calling the moon, 'cause I know what it's worth
To tug at the seas and illumine the earth
Oh I'm calling the moon
Oh I'm calling the moon

Dar Williams and I have been friends for about 7 years now, with the natural ebb and flow that comes between a musician and her fans. I first fell in love with the song Iowa,thanks to a friend who added it to a mixed cd for me some years ago, and have found a consistent string of different songs that hit me at different times in my life. Calling the Moon is one of N's favorites, so there is a twofold connection for me.

I spent much of the day today (as I was intermittently "studying") bringing a loaf of ciabatta to life. Correction: trying to do so. It is difficult without a stone, an incomplete recipe, and the wrong kind of flour. So, it is a learning experience, and hopefully we will have some bread on which we can enjoy apple butter, but I don't think it's one for the books. Though, I will say that, as it cooks downstairs, and the apartment fills with that oh so delightful aroma, it smells like all of the elements are there.

I'm in an odd place this evening. It could be because I just left therapy, and am still in the process mode, or any of a number of other factors, but I'm in a sort of odd emotional space. It's nice to just feel it out and know that it's a good place to be (especially for one who has historically not been sure what to do with her emotions). The dog is sleeping on the sofa, N is out buying cookie, dinner, and origami ingredients, and Cat Stevens is now playing in the background. It's a good night.

The bread is done. While it's not ciabatta, it's nice bread, and was quite tasty with a bit of earth balance smeared on the top. I'm gonna go ahead and draw out the (seemingly) obvious parallel: sometimes our expectations and work go into something with an assurance that we know what we are getting. Then, well, we have to substitute other flour, or compensate for no baking stone, and we get something totally unlike the thing we'd expected and worked for. But, what we get is actually so much better, defying those expectations and filling us with goodness. I will eat my hot bread and call the moon, bringing it back down a notch to the glorious simplicity of this life. yes.

Mary...

2009-12-10T19:25:00.000-08:00

“I took my other hand and placed it on top of hers, and she moved her free hand on top of it, so we had this black-and-white stack of hands resting upon my chest.
‘When you’re unsure of yourself,’ she said, ‘when you start pulling back into doubt and small living, she’s the one inside you saying, ‘Get up from there and live like the glorious girl you are.’ She’s the power inside you, you understand?’
Her hands stayed where they were but released their pressure.
“And whatever it is that keeps widening your heart, that’s Mary, too, not only the power inside you but the love. And when you get down to it, Lily, that’s the only purpose grand enough for a human life. Not just to love--but to persist in love.’”
--Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of Bees

We are all called, I think, to persist in love.

Amen...

Catching yeast in the air

2009-12-09T08:34:00.000-08:00

As may be quite obvious by now, I really enjoy baking bread. I took five semesters of ceramics in undergrad and fell in love with the process of something so simple and so profound. Baking bread is similar in many ways. Watching the yeast interact with the water and then flour, coming alive and doubling in size not once but twice is a profound experience for me. All of the elements are there: patience, ritual, attention to detail, invigoration of every one of the senses and, at the end, you've got a loaf of some sort of goodness. Every batch makes two standard loaves, so one of my favorite things is to share the second loaf with someone. I have been very intentionally gradual in my bread adventures, keeping things straightforward and letting myself learn gradually. As both a student and teacher, there are so many times when my brain is on overload; baking bread allows me to slow down and soak in the joy of a process that has no expectations or end-goal.

One thing that has proven a bit difficult in the bread baking process is that N is allergic to yeast. Now, while I am interested in the ritualistic practices of eating and sharing unleavened bread, it doesn't really make for very good toast or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. So, last night I decided to move forward in my quest for yeast-free starters. N has said before that it is possible to gather the yeast from the air, but I assumed this to be a much more energy-consuming process than it actually is. Turns out, all you need is honey, water, flour, and a bit of time (5 days, to be precise). So, we have a starter going in the kitchen (see the photo album if you would like to view some pics), and it has already started bubbling! Because I was in the mood to make starters, I also made a poolish for a ciabatta--just breaking right out of the box, eh?

Another one of my favorite kitchen adventures is making soup. As the weather turns consistently cooler, I am drawn to the kitchen to mix in whatever combinations of vegetables suit my fancy. While N and I both have strengths in the kitchen, I gladly tip my hat to her as the better cook between us. She can step in and put together a bouquet of flavors that could bring you to your knees in a state of gastronomic bliss. However, when the mood hits me, I can spend a day tossing things together in the kitchen. As my palette develops, and I learn more about how to combine flavors, soup continues to be a great way to experiment. Soup is very forgiving; you can toss something in and, if it doesn't work, you can typically just balance it out with something else. Soup also gets better over time, so a dish that is bland on day one is typically be full of flavor by day three. We make a big batch, eat some, freeze some, and keep leftovers for a week. One of my consistently favorite soups to make is one I have dubbed "kitchen sink" soup, as it typically contains everything we've got on-hand. It's like a one-home version of stone soup, and it usually makes enough to provide food off and for weeks on a very low budget. Last night's creation involved onions, celery, butternut squash, a red bell pepper, turnips, rutabaga, greens, broccoli, white beans, and a couple of slices of bacon that needed to be consumed. This was all served with a side of sunchokes roasted with garlic, thyme, olive oil, s&p, and coarse salt turned out to be a nice meal.

So, the evening last night was spent as a downpayment of sorts: beginning bread starters and making/eating soup that will be best in a few days. My love of this process seems to be a metaphor for something, though I'm not quite sure I want to read that much into it. For now, I think it's enough to just love being in the kitchen, dog sleeping on the floor behind me. As I was working, I found quite a bit of joy in knowing that when N returned from her dinner meeting she would find a home full of good smells and a yeast-free starter beginning the process of fermentation. Welcome home, love...

Thrift Store Christmas Trees

2009-12-05T11:59:00.001-08:00

As we close the first week of Advent, the tree N found for $8 at our favorite thrift store is up and decorated (though there has been conversation in the past about having the tree up for the proper liturgical Christmas season, from Christmas day through Epiphany), and the colored lights are strung around the curtain rod in front of the front window. We have spent a lot of time in the kitchen lately, which I think is pretty normal for us, but the process of documenting our adventures has made me very aware of how much time we spend in that little kitchen of ours.

It has been raining buckets off and on for the last week. The anticipated snow is instead another heavy drizzle of cold rain and wind. This has kept us inside more than we would usually like to be, but there have been so many good smells filling the house that we really don't mind. The rain, though, seems to also encourage the potential for melancholy. There are times when we forget that our lives here do not translate out, that the safe space we find in our kitchen does not exist outside the walls of our home. I meet with a group every couple of weeks to talk about theology. The conversation has ranged from evil to Plato to Dostoevsky to contemporary song lyrics. Yesterday we discussed three contemporary songs, one of which was "God Shuffled His Feet" by Crash Test Dummies. One particular stanza jumped out at me, though:

So he said:"Once there was a boy
Who woke up with blue hair
To him it was a joy
Until he ran out into the warm air
He thought of how his friends would come to see;
And would they laugh, or had he got some strange disease?

I think this resonated so much with me, because there are times when my relationship feels a bit like this boy's blue hair. I am in a relationship that is teaching me so much about unconditional love and growth. We live very intentionally, and our home is full of love and comfort. The kitchen is almost always pumping out good smells, and the door is always open to friends. It is a place where arguments are settled through respectful conversation and patience. There is laughter and there are tears. I am challenged and nourished and encouraged, both emotionally and spiritually. I am learning to love the person God has created after a lifetime of apologizing. Yet, just as the boy with the blue hair, once I step outside, I am aware that not everyone, even friends, will see the joy.

Earlier today, the weight of it just caught up with both of us. We talked it through, cried a bit, and enjoyed the sanctuary of our living room. Two hours later, I was again in the kitchen, this time with our friend A, who came over to join me in baking bread. It was his first time to bake bread, and as it was rising, we stood and talked for a while about how profound the simplicity of bread can be. We talked about sustenance and the eucharist and sharing food. He was already trying to decide with whom he would share the second loaf in his batch. Some things, it seems, are too good not to share. While the rain rages on outside, and so many things are still in chaos in the world, we are in the kitchen baking bread and basking in the simple marvel of community.

nom nom nom

2009-12-02T06:46:00.000-08:00

yesterday our friend e. was certified ready to receive a call in the pcusa. that's an exciting step in the world of presby seminarians seeking ordination and we were very excited for her (she will make a fantabulous minister). she called to see if we wanted to join her for pizza, but we had other stuff going, so made a date to toast and celebrate later in the evening. of course, after the conversation, all i wanted to do was eat pizza!

yessie made dough :) and i went to the store for goodies to top the pizza with. we don't do much cow milk around here (in fact most days we eat a vegan diet) so i went hunting for goat and sheep cheese. when i came home, i sauteed mushrooms, caramelized onions, and made a pizza sauce from some leftover canned tomatoes that were hoping for a home in our bellies rather than the fridge. the smells were sooo yummy (nom nom nom!) and the pizzas were great. one had red sauce and the other had a mixture of yessie's homemade arugula pesto and white garlic sauce we purchased at the farmer's market. there are pictures over there in the picassa album.

today is three years of commitment, affection, passion, frustration, joy, sorrow, love, and life with yessie. our days are full of rituals that border on the magnificent and the mundane. i love the coffee we share in the morning, i love the meals we share at night. i love all the conversations, activities, and intimacy that come in between those things, and i love nuzzling next to her at night. it is a joy to share my life with her.

the indigo girls have a lovely little song called the power of two... i appreciate this line: the closer i'm bound in love to you, the closer i am to free

i hope december 2 is a lovely day for you. tonight we babysit vegetables!

anniversary

2009-12-01T18:41:00.000-08:00

I mentioned on the first post that N gave me a bread cookbook for my birthday this year. Tonight, as I was looking for pizza dough recipes (see photos for images of said pizza), I came across this poem at the beginning of the book. It seems to sum up perfectly so many things...

Working in the Kitchen
Edward Espe Brown

What is it, closer than close?
Not impervious or distant, not
stiff or unresponsive. A get-down-
in-the-mud mind, a root-around-
in-the-weeds mind: Food comes
alive with your presence, reaching
out, laboring, taking the time
for flour, salt, water, yeast
to come together, for a bowl
that breaks, the dirty dishes,
a leaky faucet, always more
to cooking that meets the eye!
Each thing asking to be seen, heard,
known, loved, a companion in the dark.
"Take care of the food," it is said,
"as though it was your own eyesight,"
not saying, oh that's all right, we
have plenty, we can throw that away.
Table, teapot, measuring cups, spoons:
the body within the body, the place
where everything connects.
Ripe, succulent fruit, leaves, stems,
roots, seeds: the innermost mind
awakening, fully manifesting. What
are you up to, after all? What is
a way of life that is satisfying,
fulfilling, sustaining and sustainable?
Cups, glasses, sponges, one
body with a hundred faces,
a sticky honey jar, the half-
empty cup of coffee, each asking
to fulfill, each offering the touch
of the beloved.
Enter, plunge into the heart
if the matter: an unknown destination,
an unknown adventure unfolding
with your wits about you and your
no-so-wits. Things emerging in life,
Life emerging in things, no separation.
Concentrating on food, concentrating on
myself, with heart opening, hands offering,
may everything be deliciously full
of warmth and kindness.
Coming from the earth, coming from the air,
a cool breeze, a spark, a flame, go ahead:
cook, offer yourself, hold nothing back.
Cooking is not like you expected, not like
you anticipated. What is happening is unheard
of, never before experienced. You cook. No mistakes.
You might do it differently next time, but
you did it this way this time. Things
are as they are, even if you say too much this
too little that. And if you want things to stay
the same, remind yourself they have no unchanging nature.
"Wherever you go, remember, there you are." O.K.?
Go ahead. Keep moving. Watch your step.

Turns out there was no pizza dough recipe in this book, but it was hard not to find this as that much better. I did find a handful of recipes for pizza dough, though!

At one point tonight we looked up and realized it is the first of December. Other than the odd notion that it is now somehow December, we realized tomorrow is our anniversary. Three years ago tomorrow I asked N out on a date, scheduled a year in the future. We were living three states apart, and with a lifetime of history we began to move a bit closer to merging our lives together. I am amazed time and again how quickly that time has flown. While we decided a few weeks ago not to do any gifts for our anniversary, I did ask for one thing. And, after taking the dog out to pee, N happily obliged; we shared a dance in the living room. Happy Anniversary...

Welcome Morning

2009-11-30T20:20:00.001-08:00

Just a poem today, from Anne Sexton...

Welcome Morning

There is joy
in all:
in the hair I brush each morning,
in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning,
in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the spoon and the chair
that cry "hello there, Anne"
each morning,
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning.

All this is God,
right here in my pea-green house
each morning
and I mean,
though I often forget,
to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as the holy birds at the kitchen window
peck into their marriage of seeds.

So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter in the morning,
lest it go unspoken.

This Joy that isn't shared, I've heard,
dies young.

This poem has become a favorite in the midst of life, and I think of it often in our kitchen. Our kitchen, our home, has become a place to appreciate the gestures and moments of life that are everything to us. I speak in the first plural here, though my love is thirty feet away, for I know that she would agree with me on this. It is in the ordinary that we find and approach the sublime. It is in the moments that could so easily pass without any notice that we find our breath joined, when I look at her and she at me, and one or the other of us simply says, "I love you, too."

Life, it seems, is in these moments. As our dog sleeps on the sofa, I type away at my computer, and N begins the dishwashing duties Cat Stevens is on the radio asking where the children play. Just an hour ago this room was filled with a wonderful group of people sharing life and working through the complexities of being queer. In the midst of our hurt, we feel the unity of community and know that we have a place somewhere with the divine. We have a place at the table, and the food is so so good.

my 2¢

2009-11-29T11:54:00.000-08:00

well, my beloved (whom i might sometimes refer to as yessie) decided she wanted to try her hand at a blog last week, so she set up a joint blog, which i think is lovely. perhaps it is part of our nesting process :) it seems only appropriate that those activities find their way to the lands of the internets.

many things have been happening in our little kitchen this week. although we weren't hosting thanksgiving dinner, we did make 3 vegan dishes and a bevy of bread to take with us to the lovely home where we'd been invited to share thanksgiving supper.

there was an abundance of leftover veggies from our CSA pickup last week and thanksgiving is the one day a year the food pantry that we share veggies with is closed. So we loaded our counters (and the counters of friends) with many extra veggies.

for thanksgiving, i cooked beets with clementine slices, chinese five spice, and additional cloves and cinnamon that were FABulous, as well as roasted turnips & sweet potatoes, and pomegranate glazed greens with cranberries and pine nuts. yessie baked FOUR kinds of bread (mostly rolls, but some loaves)--wheat, garlic challah, garlic vegan, and cranberry walnut. The kitchen was bustling all day, and it was wonderful.

on saturday we took on a task of monolithic proportions and decided to repaint our kitchen. last week our kitchen was a dirty white and the soffit was crayola orange. we've been talking about repainting the soffit for a while because the orange didn't really pop the way we wanted it too. we also decided to repaint the white walls because there were gaping holes present where i'd removed hardware that had been left by the former tenant.

we went to the hardware store and bought a few test samples to try--they looked terrible. we decided to steer away from orange completely and went back to the store and picked out a deep purple that appeared to be somewhere between the color of a raisin and a eggplant. for the other walls we chose the palest version of this color (basically a bright white). i like the white because it makes the kitchen feel cleaner. so far our soffit looks like barney the dinosaur--it still needs a few layers to fully cover crayola orange, so we haven't given up on it yet. i was hoping it would have more of a brown undertone to it, but apparently that paint color doesn't exist. it is fascinating to me how paint almost never looks the way you expect it to look. que sera...

so, why limit the use of one's little kitchen to the task of painting? we invited 4 people over and made gnocchi saturday night! butternut squash and roasted garlic gnocchi as well as a beet and potato gnochhi. they were beautiful, but not as soft and billowy as i'd hoped. does anyone have good gnocchi tricks, tips, or recipes? we mixed the gnocchi with peas, pecans, goat cheese, salt, pepper, and olive oil--it was very filling, and pretty darn tasty.

today the kitchen has a sinkful of dishes waiting to be washed and a soffit with a second coat of paint. soon the dishes will be clean, the soffit will be purple, and our little kitchen will begin to settle into itself again. as always, it continues to overflow with love.

Back to the land...

2009-11-27T10:00:00.000-08:00

I read this post on the NY Times today, the day after Thanksgiving:

Back To the Land

I was in a conversation the other day where I began talking about the hopelessness that creeps in. We are killing each other at a frighteningly fast rate. Substances that contain nothing of any nutritional value pass as food and we eat them up, coming back hungry for more artificial sweetness, so often finding whole food tasteless because we have not experienced the flavor of a real tomato or strawberry, as we have only had the over-treated brightly colored representation of a tomato or strawberry. There is something remarkable about watching food grow, and in sharing a meal with community. In the slowing down, we begin to become aware of color and sounds and flavors that were not there before, relishing in the first bite of bread fresh out of the oven or soup that has been simmering on the stove for hours. Ahh, I digress...

In this conversation, mid-lament, I was reminded that I am not alone standing beneath the titanic wall of go-go-go. The picture then shifted for me shifted when I pictured myself not cowering in front of a 1000-ton brick and steel tank but standing hand-in-hand with so many people with whom I would love to share a meal or a life. We cannot do it alone, and what is better: we don't have to.

Day One

2009-11-25T21:29:00.000-08:00

As I was in the midst of rolling out dough today to make garlic knots in preparation for our Thanksgiving celebration tomorrow, N showed up with her camera. This is nothing new in our lives, or in our kitchen; video updates and regular photographic documentation are two of the things I love most about our relationship. When we first started dating, we discovered a mutual desire for community, and both found joy in preparing and sharing food. There is something profound in the simplicity of a bowl of fruit with greek yogurt, honey, and walnuts, or in the first bite of an apple purchased from a farmer whose name you know, or in bread fresh out of the oven, or in blackberry cobbler still piping hot, warming your throat after hitting you with a sweet tartness on the first bite. Our relationship has formed in many ways around the simple complexity of time spent in the kitchen building a meal. The first gift I gave N was a cookbook, and she was the one who gave me my first bread-baking cookbook, which has developed into my own loved process. Food has just always been part of who we are together.
About a year or so into our relationship, we found ourselves frustrated regularly on Sunday mornings, as we both tried to prepare a meal, tripping over each other's feet, often with hot skillets in-hand. For a good year-and-a-half, the solution was simply to not try and cook together when we were both really hungry; the kitchen was just too small not to get frustrated by the inevitable toe-stepping and reaching-around-to-access-the-cabinet. We've since found a way to co-exist in a little kitchen, which seems to me to be a metaphor for so much more. Our relationship has grown around preparing food; amidst the chaos of life and the process of growing, we have become together. As Brian Andreas says, "There are things you do because they feel right & they may make no sense & they may make no money & it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other & to eat each other's cooking & say it was good."
So, this blog is a way to share some of that. It may involve recipes; it will certainly involve photos, and it will hopefully involve laughter as we make this journey together, and invite those reading to come along. We have a tiny kitchen, but it is full of a big love.