My poor state

I'm a little behind in my New Yorker reading but thank God I didn't just skip the last few issues because then I would have missed one of the more lovely poems that has been written about my state. Bob Hicok's "A Primer" was published in the May 19 issue and it perfectly captures the complicated feelings I have about my state.

...February
is thirteen months long in Michigan.
We are a people who by February
want to kill the sky for being so gray
and angry at us. "What did we do?"
is the state motto.

but also:

...daffodils are asked
by young men to be their wives...

This is such a gorgeous place to live and such a problematic place, too. The economy, much of the business mindset and the politics are so ass backwards that sometimes it makes me want to pull my hair out. It's easy to love California, but loving Michigan is like loving a smelly little cousin who happens to have a beautiful singing voice. You really have to convince people to get to know him. I know people who moved here to teach at the University and who really never get this place--they stay in our little People's Republic of Ann Arbor and flee to other places for vacations. If they don't get tenure, they leave the state with a feeling of relief. And sometimes I understand where they are coming from. There are days when I wish we lived someplace else, someplace where I could celebrate what is obvious rather than defend what is (mostly) hidden or spend a lot of energy finding and promoting the pockets of goodness and hoping that we can turn the messed up parts around. But other times, my love of this state is so strong that I can't imagine another place providing the same level of satisfaction.

I'm feeling particularly tender towards Michigan since we just got back from a 50 mile 3 day, 2 night canoe camping trip on the Au Sable river, from Grayling to Mio. It was exquisitely beautiful, perfect weather, pleasant and well-kept camp grounds, and lovely people, none of whom rolled their eyes when our 7 year old was eating his 5th s'more and running in circles singing the melody of Ode to Joy at 9:30 PM.

The river was moving (at least until we got to the Mio dam pond) and we played dodge-the-fly-fisher-people and discovered that whistling while paddling is a good way to give them enough acoustical warning that you are coming so they don't hook their waving fly lines in your head. We saw huge beaver dams and trees that were in the process of being chewed through. We found snails and crayfish and played with June bugs and caterpillars. We saw people in their racing canoes training for the Au Sable River Canoe Marathon.

And best of all, we got to know another pocket of Michigan that is exquisite, but humble.

A little rant...

Bad karma be damned. Sometimes I'm just feeling crotchety and have to have a little rant. Most of the time, I try to limit my reviews to positive or constructively critical remarks. But there are a couple of cookbooks that I have picked up lately that punched my buttons and I feel compelled to rant.

Apples for Jam by Tessa Kiros
At first I thought this was a kid's cookbook, in which case the organizing principle--recipes grouped by color--might make sense. I know plenty of kids who decide what they will and won't eat based on color. Yes to red, no to orange, yes to brown, GOOD-GOD NO to green. But this book is intended for adults. And to use the book you have to read the mind of the author in order to find a recipe--is "Chicken Sauteed with cheese and milk" in the "Yellow" section, the "Gold" section, the "White" section or the "Monochrome" section? Apparently Pork Schnitzels are "Monochrome," Pan Fried Sole is "Gold", Pizza with Stracchino Cheese is "White" and Grilled Fish Skewers are "Yellow". If ever there was a book that was designed to confuse someone who actually wants to use it as a cookbook, this is it. I started leafing through the book guessing where a particular recipe would be listed--would Lasagne be in the "stripes" section or in "red"? Sauteed Broccoli with Tomato--"red" or "green"?

I have no idea whether the recipes are any good because a) I got so annoyed by the organization and b) I was so nauseated by the many self-congratulatory moments. Under the aforementioned Sauteed Broccoli with Tomato is this blather: "We blew away our fallen eyelashes and the ladybugs that landed on us, together with our wishes, to the nearest star." Ick. Does anyone need an excess of whimsy along with a (useless) "recipe" for Eggs with Bread and Butter? To call this book smug and masturbatory is a bit of an understatement. The author is celebrating her apparently perfect life with her two daughters in Tuscany which would be fine if this was her family scrapbook. But people are going to buy this thing?

But hey, at least the photos are good. Which leads me to my next rant:

Patricia Well's Vegetable Harvest.

Yes, that Patricia Wells, whose name is uttered with veneration. The premise of this book really appeals to me: its subtitle is "Vegetables at the center of the plate." I'm one of those eaters that prefers the side dish to the main course--in fact, when we go to BBQ joints, I usually skip the meat entirely and order a plate of sides. I'd rather have collards, braised green beans, coleslaw and some barbecue beans than a slab of ribs.

Now my rant about this book is a little more tempered--there are some recipes in here that I'll try. But I have two big disappointments: the first is the photos. They are mediocre at best. There are no photos of actual recipes, just atmospheric shots of vegetables being sold at French markets. But worse, the photos are really pretty bad. They bugged me so much that I sought out the photographer--who did they pay to provide the photos for a big-name author? Ah. Well. That explains it. Photographs copyright Patricia Wells.

It may be uncharitable of me, but I imagine the scenario thus: Wells went down to the market one Saturday morning, snapped some pics with a cheap digital camera and convinced her publisher there was no need to hire a professional photographer. Quite a few of the photos are a little out of focus, others are poorly cropped, and still others are a bit inaccurate when compared to the recipes next to which they have been placed--do you really want a photo of fresh fennel next to a recipe that calls for two teaspoons fennel seeds? And does a recipe for quail with fennel seeds really count as putting vegetables at the center of the plate? (My kids would love it if I counted sesame seeds as a vegetable!)

The book could have been made much more inexpensive without these gratuitous, mediocre and not even useful full-color plates.

The other objection I have is that many of the recipes feel like filler. In the salad section, out of 17 recipes, 7 of them have as a key ingredient the same vinaigrette recipe. I get it. She loves her Creamy Lemon Chive vinaigrette recipe. But couldn't she have put together a page of vegetable combination ideas and said they should all be drizzled with the vinaigrette instead of separating them out into distinct recipes? Oh but wait, that would mean that the Salad section of the book would only be about half as long....

Ok, I admit it, I'm also pissed at myself. Usually I try out a cookbook before I purchase it by checking it out of the library. And this time I didn't. I bought it on-line without ever cracking the cover and I feel a little duped.

To be fair, some of the recipes in the book sound decent--the Saffron, Pear and Prune Compote for Cheese sounds like a nice autumn recipe. Curried Beet Soup sounds good too. Maybe now that my excessive vitriol has been expunged from my system, I can stand to open the book to actually try some of these out. Let's see if that Lemon Chive Vinaigrette is as outstanding as Wells implies.

Two obsessions: competing or complementary?

I woke up this morning with an epiphany about one of the main characters in the book I'm writing. Perfect timing since today is my writing day!

But I also woke up with a craving for something special for breakfast--toast, even good toast with good jam, wasn't going to cut it. If I had a lackey, I would have sent them out for a really good pastry, maybe an almond croissant from The Croissant Shop (which Cafe Verde usually has).

But I do my best writing in the morning and heading out in search of good pastry meant that I'd be sacrificing the early morning writing energy for culinary satisfaction.

What to do when two obsessions are competing for your attention?

Muffins to the rescue.

Most muffins don't get me all that excited--they are ok, they serve a purpose, they are even enjoyable most of the time--but get me jazzed up? Not really. But they are wicked fast. So I tried to think what would transform something pedestrian into something a little special--not almond croissant special, but something that was nice enough to get my mind off of my stomach and back to my character.

I came up with Almond, Orange and Strawberry Muffins.
I put some almond meal in with the flour and a little almond extract in with the wet stuff since I can't seem to shake the almond craving (in retrospect, I should have also stirred some sliced almonds in at the end; next time I'll do that.) The strawberries and orange zest give the muffins a bright freshness that suit the spring season. Best of all, I could whip these babies up in the half hour before Fiona's carpool came to take her to preschool--time that I couldn't really devote to writing anyway since it could (and probably would) be interrupted by incessant beverage and read-to-me requests. But once the kiddo was out the door, I could take a warm muffin and a cup of black coffee to my computer and get my competing obsessions to complement each other.

A warm muffin, a cup of black coffee on my "Keep Calm and Carry On" coaster, and a (for now functional) computer, ready for writing.

Almond, Orange and Strawberry Muffins

Makes 12 muffins

Dry stuff:
1 2/3 C flour
3 T ground almonds
1/2 t baking soda
2 t baking powder
1 t salt
1/4 C sugar
zest of one orange

Wet stuff:
1/3 c canola oil
1/4 t almond extract
juice of one orange (1/4-1/3 C)
1/3 C buttermilk
1 egg

Chunky stuff:
about 8 strawberries, washed, hulled and cut into small pieces
1/4-1/2 C sliced almonds

Preheat oven to 400. Prep your muffin pan (non-stick spray or muffin papers).

Mix up dry stuff in a medium bowl. Mix up wet stuff in a smaller bowl. Add wet to dry and mix until still kind of lumpy.

Put one spoonful of batter in each muffin cup. Dot the batter with some strawberries and sliced almonds. Put more batter on top (until muffin cups are about 3/4 full). Top with another strawberry piece or two and/or some more sliced almonds.

Pop into the oven for 20 minutes.

If you need a little more decadence split one open, slather with butter and a gob of strawberry jam.

gettin' what I want

The day is not over yet, but it is almost dinner time and I have received for Mother's Day what I asked for: that the kids not yell at each other so I don't have to yell at them. Seriously, it's a rainy day, tailor made for small people to challenge the containment of the house and climb the walls, but they have done great and I have enjoyed being really uncharacteristically calm today.

Of course, I don't think they have been repressing their normal ways of annoying each other to please me; I think it has mostly been luck that today they are getting along well.

But I'll take that!

And though I am not Brian's mother, he has been fantastic this weekend and accomplished a "What I want list" (before going out of town for a week) that ranged from the relatively pedestrian tasks of adding more memory to my limping-along computer and taking out the storm windows and putting in the screens, to the much more involved (and kind of disgusting) task of redoing the plumbing from the tub so it will drain properly.

For dinner, I'm getting more of what I want--I'm making some old favorites: grilled flank steak with arugula salad, grilled asparagus, paesano bread and soft centered chocolate pudding cakes for dessert. And a decent bottle of red wine.

Hopefully, after dinner I will get the final thing I want: for the kids to go to bed relatively willingly and let Brian and I have a decent chunk of time in which we can watch a few episodes of our recent indulgence, the Battlestar Gallactica Season 3 DVDs.

Lucky

I just finished a book that I have no memory of requesting at the library but that I feel incredibly lucky for having read.

Often, after perusing some of the various book reviews I try to lay my hands on regularly, I put in requests at the library. And sometimes when the book shows up on the shelf with my name sticker on it, I have a little moment of surprise having forgotten the title in the months since the request was originally placed. But usually once I crack the cover, I remember a fragment of the review or at least the source of the recommendation, whether it was paper, blog or human.

But I have no idea who recommended The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff. Whoever it was: Thank you. When I think that I could very easily have missed this book, I feel a little panicky.

This novel has so many facets that it is hard to summarize--the writing varies from the poetic musings of a 200 year-old lake monster, to an epistolary exchange between two peculiar 19th C women, to a straight forward tale of a contemporary girl looking for her roots. I suppose the thing that stands out the most for me is that the main character is a place rather than a person. The town of Templeton is revealed through all the different voices in the book, though clearly the drive for information lies in Willie Upton's research into her ancestors and thus the town's past.

I think it could have been very easy for the book to turn into an assembly of voices, sort of like Under Milkwood (and that probably would have been interesting too and Dylan Thomas isn't one to sniff at when you are comparing a writer's first book). But I'm glad that instead it decided to draw the portrait of the town through the genealogy of the people. I would bet that the author had to edit out some interesting sections and characters to focus on Maramaduke Temple's heirs but I'm also grateful that there was a traditional plot of discovery to follow along with the slow reveal of the town, present and past.

The book isn't flawless--there were a few little things I'd tweak in characterizations and plot details--but so what if it wasn't perfect. Reading this book made me very happy. And that is high praise indeed.

sigh

This simply is not the image you want to be confronted with on your writing day. My computer was dead as a doornail on Friday morning and I lost another writing day. I am beginning to suspect that Fridays are crappy days to designate as writing days because it seems like crises pop up and weekends intrude more frequently than other days. But thanks to Brian working on it for hours yesterday he gave the equivalent of PC CPR and it gets a second chance at life.

All my files are now saved to my external hard drive so that if it decides to crash again, I can unplug the drive and plug it into Brian's computer and not freak out. Presently, I am feeling torn between going out and buying a new computer (and a Mac is tempting me highly after the PC crap I dealt with this weekend) and the tightwad urge to keep this one going until it absolutely dies for good.

Single girl's rice bowl

Brian is off on another work trip. This is a bummer family and company wise, but kind of a relief on the culinary front because I can get away with half-assed food for my dinner which would surely cause an extended session of late night cereal consumption by Brian if he was subject to such meals. (Sometimes this is how I gauge the relative success of a meal--does he turn to a big bowl of cereal an hour and a half later? Not so good. Does he skip the cereal that evening? Pretty good meal.)

Two nights ago I had the big salad meal--an extremely large pile of greens, whatever raw vegetables I could find in the fridge and some feta and toasted walnuts for protein. Last night I had the "classic": a half a bottle of crappy Chardonay, a large glob of sorta crappy brie, some crackers and a little pile of cornichons all consumed while watching god knows what on TV and recovering from a Fiona melt-down of epic proportions (a few choice quotes "I'm not going to be your kid any more" and "you have to go in a cage and stay there with no food and no water." The girl comes up with imaginative punishments, eh?)

Today I resorted to my standby grad school meal: a mess of rice, tofu, cucumber and kim chee. I probably ate this at least three times a week when I was going to UC Davis. When you feel the need for something cooked, but don't have a lot of patience for fuss, this really is quite satisfying (though it does assume you have cooked rice on hand, that slightly dried out rice left over from take out last weekend works great, or grab one of those boxes of frozen cooked brown rice for moments like this when you are too impatient to cook it).

First take a cucumber--preferably one of the little un-waxed salad cukes, also known as a kirby cucumber--slice it up (peel it too if you have a standard waxed cuke) and toss it in a bowl with a little soy sauce and rice wine vinegar. Let it sit in this while you make the other stuff.
Cube half a cake of firm tofu (or less if you aren't that hungry.) Pour about 1T of canola oil in a non-stick pan and use a garlic press to squash one clove of garlic into the oil. Heat gently (don't brown the garlic, just let it infuse the oil with flavor and get the raw burn out of its system). Then chuck in the tofu and a little salt and pepper. If you are feeling patient, go ahead and brown your tofu. If not (I rarely am), just make sure it is warmed through.
Then get out a big bowl and warm up a pile of rice. Dump the tofu over the rice, dump the cucumbers and their dressing over the tofu and, if you want it spicy, pile it high with as much kim chee as your guts are capable of handling (or squirt on some sriracha sauce if you prefer it).
If you are feeling fancy you can drizzle it with a little sesame oil and sprinkle on some sesame seeds, but really, if you were feeling fancy, you probably wouldn't be making this.

Fiberly progress

This past week I tried two new recipes and both turned out "meh". Both were consumed when they first came out of the oven, but the leftovers have been ignored and will, most likely, get dumped. I made this pseudo-cassoulet and it was acceptable, but not memorable. And then I baked these spicy ginger muffins with currants and toasted pecans and they too, did not live up to their promise (the baking time seemed way off and they turned out pretty dry. Dry is not a good quality for gingerbread.)

So I have quit the kitchen and retreated into fiber-ville. I got a little of the completion satisfaction I was craving by finishing a baby sweater before said baby is walking:
It's the Elizabeth Zimmerman February Baby Sweater pattern (Lion Brand Cotton Ease yarn) that a lot of on-line knitters seem to love. I'm glad I finished it but didn't find it so transporting a pattern that I feel I have to make it again and again. Sure it's nice not to have to sew a lot of seams when you are done with the knitting, but really, the seams on any baby sweater aren't such a big deal to be a deterrent to me picking a particular pattern.

I've also plugged away at another Branching Out scarf that I'm making for my kids' music teacher. Ian started going to her classes when he was 18 months old and Fiona started at birth (coming along with her brother). This spring finds Fiona and I taking our last class with Angela and to say we will miss her is an understatement. Out of gratitude for all the stages and phases she has (patiently) seen us through, I thought I'd make her a good-bye present.
This one is made out of a double strand of kid silk haze and some other black and purple silk yarn that I found in my stash.

The wrap cardigan I've been making is now starting to look, well, wrap-ish:
And I still have the Urban Aran cardigan to work on, though now that the weather has turned warm and this one is knit in a chunky yarn, the soonest I'll get to wear it is next autumn:
I'mrelieved that my fibers have been treating me well when my skill in the kitchen is at a low point, but here's to hoping that I can turn the latter around and consumption of fiber of the vegetal variety becomes a little more pleasurable...

Scene mapping

It's amazing what the right format can do for my writing.

I've been plugging away at my children's novel but as the document got longer, I've been having trouble with the organizing part. I felt like I was spending way too much time scrolling up and down in the document trying to find where the part I wanted to write fit in the work as a whole. I tried listing scenes in a separate Word document, but again, that left me scrolling up and down until I was getting dizzy. I tried using an Excel spreadsheet to map the scenes and the action, but it didn't work for me. Maybe I have too many mathematical associations with Excel (that's what I use for our budget tracking) for it to feel like something I could use to organize a creative project.

So yesterday, once I got the little people off to their various schools, I decided to hell with technology! I cleared off the dining room table, unrolled the huge roll of paper that I bought a while back at the Scrapbox for kid art projects, and got out some multi-colored post-it notes. I assigned colors to major characters and locations (I'm working on a parallel universe scenario so being able to see where they are is important) and drew some long, horizontal columns on the paper (yup, basic linear organization where the upper left is the beginning of the novel and the bottom right is the end). Then I printed out my document and got to work transferring what I have already written scene-wise to the sticky notes and where it will fit in the narrative as a whole.
And the great thing was once I filled in the spots I had written, I could see where I needed new scenes and additional material, where previously existing scenes should be moved, and what part of the book I really haven't approached yet (see that big swath of white...?) I was on a great roll, jotting down ideas for plot developments and scenes when the alarm went off to remind me to pick my son up from his school (yea, I've tried remembering to get him without an alarm and that didn't go so well...). So I rolled up the paper and stuck it in a corner of my office where (hopefully) the little people won't find it and start re-organizing the stickies.

So, here's my question. What organization method do other the writers out there use to visualize their work as a whole?

Well, the food and company were good...

I haven't finished the last two books that my book group selected. Naughty naughty Kate. But seriously the last two books have bored me to tears. The first no-finish was Kiran Desai's novel, The Inheritance of Loss, which has very pretty writing but nothing happens and the latest was William Poy Lee's memoir, The Eighth Promise, which is so unfocused that I'm still not sure whose memoir it was supposed to be (Lee's? His Mother's? His younger brother Richard's? Unfortunately, I think it was supposed to be his and his was the least interesting of the three possible stories).

But hey, the food and company were good! For the Desai book we gathered at Meg's and ate some lovely Indian food. To start were some addictive Sev Puri that Ami brought. Ami's co-worker, Sangeeta, coached her in the assemblage of these flavorful mounds of potato, chili's, onion and various chutneys (assembly instructions/recipe below).


Then we moved on to plates loaded with stewed chickpeas, turmeric spiked cauliflower, raita and biryani rice.



And we finished our meal with cardamom creme brulee. I'm pretty happy whenever I get creme brulee, but the cardamom imparted an even lovelier finish to the richness.

For The Eighth Promise we indulged in a massive quantity of Chinese takeout from Tk Wu, because none of us has a big enough wok supply or stove space to do the cuisine justice (ok, it was also March and we were sick of Winter and just needed a damn break.) I know, the picture to the right looks like a mess, but it was a tasty mess, particularly the tofu with black mushrooms. I also love their dumplings which are served with a vinegary, non-soy based dipping sauce.

And then for dessert, I made something that had nothing at all to do with the book: puff pastry with almond cream and winter fruit compote. The picture in the NY Times magazine was so appealing that I was willing to simmer, steep, whip and bake up the various components. The most limiting factor for most people to make this recipe is the requirement that the winter fruits (kumquats, dried figs and dried apricots) be simmered in verjus, which is sour juice from unripe wine grapes, which retails for about $18 for 25 oz. Tightwad that I am, I don't often spend that much on a bottle of wine, much less on the juice from un-ripe, un-fermented grapes. But then I hit Wikipedia and found out that verjus is also called husroum in Arabic and is used in place of vinegar or lemon juice in Middle Eastern cuisine.
So I trotted off to one of the many Middle Eastern grocery stores in our area and poked around until I found, for $4 for 32 oz, Momtaz Sour Grape Juice!

It did impart a nice level of acidity to the compote, though I still don't think I'd spring for $18 bottle. I'd probably eliminate the sugar in the recipe and substitute white grape juice and a good squeeze of lemon juice. I still have a significant amount of verjus left in the bottle so I think I'll freeze it and when summer comes around, I may use it in this recipe for verjus mint sorbet.

The next book we will gather around is one I've already read and which I know is good, Peter Ho Davies' The Welsh Girl (my review from last year here). I'm hosting the meeting so I need to try and figure out what to cook for the main course. Welsh cuisine? Is there such a thing? Suggestions welcome!

Sev Puri

Flat Puris (thin crackers) – 1 bag
Fine Sev (thin lentil crunchy stuff) – 1 bag
Small chili peppers – a handful
Sweet chutney (made of dates and imli) – 1 jar – preferable Swad brand
Cilantro and chili chutney – 1 jar – preferable Swad brand
Cilantro chopped fine
Chaat masala
Garam masala
Roasted cumin powder (optional)
Red chilly pepper (optional)
Yogurt (optional)
Potatoes (boiled)
Onion chopped fine

1. Boil potatoes until soft, cool, remove skins and mash.
2. Add to potatoes a teaspoon or so of chaat masala and garam masala and pinch of salt. Set aside.
3. Chop all cilantro, peppers and onion. Set aside.
4. Mix up cup or so of yogurt with chaat masala and garam masala and salt (season to taste)

To assemble:

1. Spread crackers on a platter.
2. Add tablespoon or so of potato (as Sangeeta told me, don't skimp on the potato) on top of each cracker
3. prinkle chopped onions and peppers on top of potato mound (careful with those peppers!)
4. Spoon generous teaspoon of sweet chutney and cilantro chutney on top of potato mound
5. Spoon generous tablespoon of yogurt/masala mixture onto potato mound
6. Sprinkle lots of Fine Sev on top of everything
7. Sprinkle cilantro on top of everything
8. Enjoy