Why I love Louisville

Last week I left Ann Arbor to be hit by a big old snow storm and headed south to Louisville, Kentucky for 3 days of "mama-needs-a-break" time.

On this break I got to:

1. See two friends from grad school at Northwestern who I haven't spent time with in way too long.
2. Go to see four new plays at the Actors Theater of Louisville's Humana Festival of New American Plays, two of which were mind-blowingly fantastic, one which was interesting and had some great scenes/monologues and one which I didn't care for. (Which, for a picky, judgemental viewer like myself, is very high percentage of positive response.)
   
3. Eat at a whole bunch of cool and quirky (and not outrageously expensive!) restaurants. Louisville is one of the few towns I've been to lately that has resisted takeover by the national chains. You can see the pride in the unique character of the town in the slogan that appears at most independent businesses "Keep Louisville Weird".
4. Go to a cool yarn store and pick up a Rowan book I'd been coveting.
5. Go to see two exhibits at an art museum, one on the Quilts of Gee's Bend and the other on Medieval and Renaissance items on tour from the Victoria and Albert Museum including one of Leonardo da Vinci's notebooks (a wee little thing! I had always pictured the notebooks as being more folio-sized rather than smaller than a pocket paperback.)
   
6. Sit on my friend's back deck in the sunshine and feel the soft air of Spring around me. Despite the fact that it is supposed to snow here again today, I now have hope that we will get to experience non-hostile weather soon.
   
7. Not have to multi-task for 3 full days (which, I confess, made Tuesday a little bumpy as I tried to get back in the mama-swing of things).

I'm going to try and make this break an annual tradition.

Unfortunate naming

I know I'm not the only one who, when they hear the title The Facts of Life thinks of this:

rather than this wonderful novel which I finished last night:
I have to admit with some degree of shame that the title and the reminder of the supremely annoying TV show with a character named "Tootie" actually kept me from picking up this book for a good long while. But I strongly urge you to look past the title and read Graham Joyce's beautiful book.

The book is set during and immediately after WWII in Coventry, England and it is centered on Martha Vine and her seven daughters, particularly the youngest Cassie, who they describe as "wayward" and "fey," and her son, Frank. When Cassie decides not to give up her fatherless child, the family bands together and agrees that they will all do their part in raising Frank. This is a beautiful portrait of how a family works together to confront mental illness with love and kindness and there is a strong message that "different" isn't necessarily bad.

There are times when the book goes inside Cassie's delusions--most memorably her experience on the night Coventry was firebombed--and at these points magical realism seeps in to the narrative. We believe that Cassie can actually see the radio waves in the sky that guide the bombers to her city, that she can briefly bring a dead boy back to life and that she can choose a bomber out of the sky and make it crash into a field.

But he book is also downright funny and much of the humor comes from the finely drawn characters. The author has a subtle touch with humor so that characterizations that could be cruel are instead kind and funny. Frank's Uncle Gordon with his stammer, receeding gums and death's-head resemblance could be a repulsive character, but instead he is presented with humor and sympathy:

Gordon was apt to display his lack of gums every time he spoke, and whatever words he spoke were preceded by a long, drawn-out whine in which he appeared to be locked in heroic or merely constipated struggle with himself while he shaped whatever it was he was about to say.

"Another slice of corned-beef pie, Gordon?"

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee, well, no, I'm not much mithered, but...."

A newcomer into the family...might lean in expectantly, politely waiting for Gordon to conclude his statement. And they might wait. And wait. And Gordon would widen his eyes at them in a kind of terror and draw his lips back over his disappearing gums, as if this predicament they both found themselves in...was just as astonishing to himself as to anyone.

Gordon might have become a caricature but later in the novel, when Frank is taking his turn living with Aida and Gordon, he is rounded out and shown in his own home, without the intense social pressure of his mother-in-law and six sisters-in-law and their families. He is a warm man who teaches Frank about death and passing in an exquisitely gentle way. By the end of the book, I wanted to go up and give Gordon a great big hug, even though he is often described as looking like "a fresh corpse."

Other moments of humor come up due to the different circumstance in which Frank is raised as he is passed from Una's farm, to Evelyn and Ina's spinster home and spiritualist church, to Bertie's experimental commune near Oxford. For example after a stay at the commune with Bertie where, instead of going to school, he is tutored by the residents in Marxist philosophy, Frank goes to his much more conventional Aunt Aida's house where he watches the television for the first time. But the two worlds come together in Frank's head seamlessly so he can enjoy the BBC Children's Hour while simultaneously continuing to refer to the television as "the reactionary hyena". Such touches of humor are subtle but are woven into the text so that what could be a grim book about mental illness, is instead a resoundingly positive story.

Really the only flaw with the book is that I had some trouble imagining the characters in the period before the book takes place--Martha and her seven daughters in their teen and adult years are perfectly realized, but I really can't picture them when they were young, all packed in the same house with their conflicting personalities not tempered by the presences of the men in their lives nor the separateness of their own homes. But that really is a small complaint. This is the best book I've read so far this year and I am looking forward to exploring more of Graham Joyce's works.

Food notes

I have had some modest successes in the kitchen of late--none worth their own post in splendidferousness, but fine for a group post.

First off the one without a photo:
Last night the kids got a big kick out of bucatini pasta. The loooong tubes were great for pretending to be anteaters, though not so hot when it came to table manners. And it is an excellent shape when paired with the best Bolognese sauce I have ever made. I made the original batch a couple of weeks ago and thankfully there was enough left to freeze so we could enjoy it on an otherwise rushed weeknight. It is destined to be a regular recipe around here.

Another quick and pretty tasty weeknight dinner was pork tenderloin medallions in ginger pear sauce. This would probably look prettier if you followed the original recipe and flattened boneless pork chops to big medallions rather than the sort of stew-like effect of the circles of tenderloin, but it tasted damn good, especially when served with farm bread and a biting arugula and walnut salad.
I modified the recipe slightly (at the end of this post) and it really was done in about 15 minutes total time.

And last weekend we had the party for the girl whose birthday fell over the mid-winter break. She requested a dinosaur party and thank god for The Baker's Nook in Saline or I would have been struggling with fashioning a dinosaur scene from buttercream. I was able to pick up molded sugar dinosaurs and dinosaur sprinkles which was much more pleasant than wrestling with the pastry bag and icing tips.
I made my standard Mexican chocolate cake though with no cinnamon and less vanilla than the original recipe. It has got to be the easiest, most fool-proof cake ever and turns out really moist and not too heavy. This time, I tried a meringue based chocolate buttercream which the grown ups seemed to like even more than the yolk based French buttercream I've made. It has a slightly lighter texture due to the Italian meringue into which the butter and chocolate get beaten. And it has a lot of chocolate--12 oz of bittersweet--so it really packs a flavor punch. The only hitch with the recipe I used is that it made a hell of a lot:
I have about a pint and a half left over and we're all a little caked out here. Other than sitting down with a spoon and a movie and descending to a new low of gluttony, I don't really know what to do with the stuff. Anyone in the neighborhood making cupcakes this week and want some buttercream?

Pork Medallions with Pear Ginger Sauce
adapted from Bon Appetite, November 1994

2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1.25 lb pork tenderloin cut into 1/2 inch pieces or 4 1/2-inch-thick boneless pork loin chops
Dried rubbed sage
All purpose flour
2 pears, peeled, cored, thinly sliced (about 1 pound)
2/3 cup dry white wine
2 t honey
2 Tablespoons chopped candied ginger
1/2 t salt

Use a meat mallet or the bottom of a heavy frying pan to flatten the pork until it is about 1/4 in thick. Season pork with dried sage, salt and pepper. Coat pork with flour; shake off excess.

Heat oil in heavy large skillet over medium heat. Add pork to skillet and sauté until brown, about 3 minutes per side. Transfer to platter.

Add pears and sauté over medium heat 2 minutes. Stir in wine, honey, ginger and salt scraping up any browned bits. Add a little water if you need it to deglaze the pan properly. Increase heat to high and boil until pears are tender and syrup is thick, about 5 minutes. Return pork and any accumulated juices to skillet. Simmer just until cooked through, about 1 minute. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Arrange pork on plates. Spoon sauce over and serve.

Because I had NO impulse control last week...

Despite the fact that I am presently knitting two sweaters and a pair of socks, I was just complaining about how large my stash is and I probably can't fit this stuff into the stash bins under the bed, last week I bought this:
The pattern and supplies for the Urban Aran (cardigan version). As I previously mentioned, it was a challenge laying my hands on the pattern--everyone was out of it (though Ingrid generously offered to loan me her copy; that's Ingrid who just had a beautiful baby and is still blogging and commenting more than those of us who get a full night's sleep! Thank you Ingrid, but I tend to scribble on my patterns.) so when I saw it for sale at the Knitting Warehouse, I kind of panicked and bought it. And the yarn.

I know some people turn their noses up at Patons Shetland Chunky because it is only 25% wool and the rest is Akkkkkrylic. But it's really soft. And washable. And it doesn't look like spun plastic. If I could have found the right weight and color in a superwash wool as soft as the Swish worsted I am currently knitting with on the other sweater, I would have bought it. But it seems like most chunky yarns have an itch factor that I am not equipped to handle.

I'm this far on the top down wrap cardigan:
Well, truth be told, I'm a little further along because it is a great brainless pattern to knit on during Ian's piano lessons or while watching videos. And I have recently discovered another TV series on DVD worth watching--the Canadian show Slings and Arrows. As one who is perhaps overly familiar with the personalities and egos of people involved in theater, I am having a wonderful time watching this series which pokes gentle fun at a theater company and festival that closely resembles The Stratford Festival. There are even regular Stratford Fest actors in the cast, most notably Stephen Ouimette who I saw in a fantastic Waiting for Godot. I'm only on the first season though I hear William Hutt is prominent in season 3. The Ann Arbor District Library has the whole series on DVD, so if you are looking for an excellent way to retreat from this endless winter (6 inches of snow on Wednesday! Up to 8 more forecast for tomorrow!) and get some of your knitting done, give this a try.

Toile developments

I'm still working on my "subversive toile" keyboard cover and lately finished a couple of additions:
It was a lot of fun making the octopus, particularly the little suction cups on his tentacles. I love how un-fazed all the people around the octopus look, as though there is no reason to interrupt their business to acknowledge the presence of a large cephalopod in their midst.

The other completed detail is just a small fire in the ruined castle, but no one is in danger of burning:

Everyday is Smekday!

I finished reading The True Meaning of Smekday by Adam Rex yesterday, a wonderfully inventive novel of alien invasion.

The main character is a smart, sassy 11 year old girl named Gratuity (nick name "Tip"). She is resourceful at the start of the book and becomes even more so as the book progresses. The novel moves from invasion plot, to a road trip plot, to a save the world plot with Gratuity joined by a confused but very handy alien who calls himself J.Lo. He has mistakenly alerted another hostile alien species to the presence of Earth (aka Smekland) and thus is on the run from his own species (the Boov) and isn't welcomed by humans either. Gratuity is trying to find her mom and survive, and together with a pet cat named Pig, they save the world not only from the Boov, but also from the much more fearsome Gorg.

Rex is an illustrator and throughout the book there are wonderful little black and white sketches that made me smile every time I came upon one--I defy anyone to see a drawing of J.Lo's goofy smile and not adore the little alien.

Rex also has a great ear for ESL and J.Lo's speech is fun to read with all its malaprops and confused verb conjugations. There is a wonderful scene that hinges on J.Lo's use of the word "explore" for "explode" (I never noticed how close those two words were before this). I particularly loved exchanges like this:

"I am thinking we are alls in the same car now," said J.Lo. "We should to have no more secretions."
"Secrets."
"Secrets. Yes."

This kind of dialog had me snorting with laughter as I read along. But the novel isn't all jokes and silliness--there are some excellent points made about how people treat each other, group mentality vs individual responsibility, and friendship. The novel also includes moments of insight such as this exchange between Gratuity and J.Lo:

"This is incredible!" I shouted. "You guys can teleport! You can clone things! You could, like, teleport to France and leave a clone of yourself behind to do your homework!"
The Boov frowned. "Everybodies always is wanting to make a clone for to doing their work. If you are not wanting to do your work, why would a clone of you want to do your work?"

There were a couple of weak spots in the book. One conveniently borrowed idea--the Boov discovered the existence of our planet and learned our languages through TV broadcasts--is exactly the scenario in the fun Star Trek parody film Galaxy Quest. And Gratuity's mom is such a space cadet in the beginning that it is hard to see how she has become much more capable when she is finally tracked down in Arizona. But these are really minor quibbles with a book that takes on so many cultural icons (Roswell, New Mexico; Disney World; Indian Reservations) and folds them into a rambunctious plot with grace and humor.

I can't wait to read this one with Ian if only for the great fun that reading J.Lo's part aloud will bring.

Stash shock

It is a snowy day today, the last weekday of my kid's midwinter break. We're all a little sick of each other--Brian is on a work trip and I've maxed out my "entertaining mom" persona. It takes a lot more energy to come up with interesting things to do with the kids when the weather is lousy, though, all things considered, we've done pretty well this week. My mom and I took the kids to a water park overnight on Monday and I think we all came back a few shades paler from the chlorine. It was fun in a weird indoor mid-western kind of way and did tire the kids out, especially Fiona who pretended to be a seahorse and pulled my mom in an inner tube around the lazy river for about two hours straight. I've let the kids eat fast food this week which resulted in them being pretty nice to me, we visited pretty much every branch of the Ann Arbor District Library and I planned to take the kids to the Detroit Science Center today until the snow storm and sickness hit.

The newly minted 5-year-old is asleep upstairs with a low fever and I'm letting the 7-year-old play as many games of Chain Factor as he wants. So after I shoveled the 5 inches of snow that fell this morning, the house has been pretty peaceful.

It seemed like a good day to start taking responsibility for my yarn stash. I got the invite to join Ravelry a few weeks ago so I set up my account, logged in two of my works-in-progress and then kind of spaced out and forgot about it. Today I had enough time to do a little more exploring and discovered that I can check out other people's experiences with patterns I'm considering and also organize my own notebook area. The scary and humbling part is to take responsibility for my stash.

Right now my stash takes up 4 Sterilite bins that fit under one half of our double bed. And they are kind of, um, full...
Some of the items packed in there I recognize--a whole load of Rowan Big Wool print from a sweater I frogged, the extra ball or two of yarn that were left over from a project where I was worried about running out of the dye lot and overbought a bit, a few gifted balls of yarn that I haven't had the heart to get rid of. But there is also a large quantity of yarn that I completely forgot I had. There's a nice little "Will trade or sell" feature on Ravelry that I plan to make use of to get rid of some of these errant skeins. Maybe I can get myself down to 3 bins?

Desk protection

I have never owned coasters until now. Truth be told, I have hardly ever had a piece of furniture that required a coaster--most of it was so utilitarian or impermeable that a condensation or coffee or tea ring was not a problem.

But now that both Brian and I have desks at home that could be damaged by the errant glass or tea cup, I decided that it was finally time to get some coasters. Actually, it didn't work quite like that. I saw these coasters and realized that I loved them so much that I could finally justify their purchase rather than continuing to prop my tea cup on some piece of correspondence.

I bought them from the lovely, quirky Etsy shop of Robotcandy. It started with a Robot Sam the Answer Man coaster stocking stuffer for Brian:
And then I found myself wandering over to his desk mid-day and snagging it for my afternoon cup of tea. After forgetting a number of times to replace it before his evening beverage/computer time, I decided that additional purchases were necessary.

I went back to Robotcandy's shop and found the following perfect coasters. I don't really need three more coasters, but I figure it is good to be able to rotate them as my mood requires. So now I have:

My writing coaster

A kitty with glasses and an ink well to get me in that dweeby mood to write.

My knitting coaster

I'll forgive the girl for holding her needles wrong (the ends point down when you knit, for you non-fiberholics out there)

My I'm-freaking-out-and-having-a-bad-day coaster.

A bit of WWII advice from the British government puts my own problems in perspective.

Now the question arises which coaster will get the most use...I'm afraid that at the moment, I'll probably be leaning towards coaster number three, but I have hopes that number one will become more and more necessary as my children's novel progresses.

Moderation in winter

I had a little reminder of what it is like to be a normal grown up rather than a slave to kid-sized creatures this week. I also discovered that it isn't as hard to be social during my normally reclusive month of February as I had been making it out to be. I met friends for drinks twice in one week.

The first event took place after a parent's meeting at my kid's preschool (Open house March 7! Ms. Juli is GOD!). Lea and I headed down to a newish Cuban restaurant called Cafe Habana and sat at the bar and tried their Mojitos. Sarah and Brian met us after they had an elementary school parent's meeting ('tis the season) and we all reveled in the opportunity to a)be in a bar on a week night! b)talk to grown ups! c)stay up past 9:30 pm (the time at which I usually have wrestled my resistant sleepers into submission and promptly collapsed myself). The drinks were good but the noise and smoke level made me prefer the also-good Mojitos at Zanzibar.

When we left the bar and were walking back to the car, Lea and I noticed the moon looking a little funny. As the driver, I had only consumed one Mojito, so I didn't think it was alcohol to blame for my perception--the moon looked weirdly red and round. When we got home and I checked with my resident astronomer, I found out that we had been seeing the lunar eclipse! It was really beautiful (if you missed it, check out all these images on Flickr) and I think I enjoyed it even more because of the chance factor--no planning, just the luck of being out at night with a friend and looking up into a clear night sky.

Then last night I skipped out at 8:30 and met my friend Emily at The Earle. I discovered that it wasn't that hard to leave the house (even for the second time in a week) and meet up with a friend after the kids were (mostly) ready for bed. It was really, really good to reconnect with an old friend from my UMS days who I have not seen in way too long. I also discovered that The Earle has one of my favorite wines on their wine-by-the-glass menu at the moment--Woop Woop Australian Shiraz 2006.

The key these grown up evenings being workable is moderation--I didn't stay out really late either time and I didn't have more than one alcoholic drink, so getting up the next morning and dealing with the responsibilities of the day weren't difficult at all. I think in the past I've been so relieved to get a break that I have perhaps indulged too much and for too long and then regretted it the next day. Fatigue and dehydration made me think that meeting up with friends in winter was just too hard to do regularly, but now I think I can make the rest of this grim season a little more tolerable by scheduling more evenings of moderation.

And with that realization, I ask for recommendations so I can diversify my locations beyond Zanzibar and The Earle. I'm ok with being a frequent patron of these two places, but I'd bet there are other places I don't know about that I'd enjoy too. Send me your suggestions of other bars/restaurants that fulfill the following conditions:
1) a non-smoking section
2) not too loud to have a conversation
3) they are ok with you ordering one drink and hanging out for a while on a weeknight when no-one else is waiting for your table or seat (I love the wait staff at the Earle--they totally get it that grown ups need a place to talk over a glass of wine and I've never felt rushed there; yes, I tip accordingly, as though my table was a cab with a meter running, not just a percentage of the cost of my one glass of wine).
4) While there may be nicely attired patrons, you don't feel like you have to get gussied up to go there--I'm just too damn tired for gussying on a weeknight.

Maru

I have a new favorite place for Bi Bim Bop: Maru. The restaurant is located where Seoul Korner used to be, at William and Thompson streets. I liked Seoul Korner--it was what I think of as decent "campus" Korean. But I really like Maru. The menu is much more varied and broad--you can get all kinds of bi bim bop, including Haecho Bibimbap (Seaweed Bibimbap) and Hoedeopbap (Raw Fish Bibimbap).

So far I have had the Dolsot Bi Bim Bop twice, once with beef and once with tofu. I don't usually order the same thing twice, but it has been wicked cold here and the weather has made me crave toasty rice.
The second time (pictured above with tofu) the stone bowl was hotter than the first and the rice on the bottom developed the perfect crunchy-chewy toastyness:

Mmm...rice therapy for winter

Brian ordered the spicy squid which was really good--it looked like it would burn a hole in his stomach, but really was more flavorful than just hot.

And I loved the banchan--those little free tasty bits that they bring to the table. Both times there was some standarad napa cabbage kimchi, a peppery bean sprout dish, and a sweet seaweed and daikon salad. The first time I went there was also a lovely turnip kimchi and a dish of chewy gluten strips. The second time I went there was one weird banchan that I left alone (pictured in the upper right corner of the first photo), bits of pickled cabbage mixed with...sliced hot dogs. It's probably some sort of family comfort food because this is a place that also has Spam in a few of the dishes on its menu.

Next time I go I plan to branch out a bit. If it is cold out, I want to try their Kimchi jjigae, which is a big bowl of kimchi, tofu and pork soup. If it is warmish (and by that I mean that my face doesn't feel like it'll fall off from the cold--I've lowered my standards for what counts as warm by this time in February) I want to order the Raw Fish Bi Bim Bop.