Tag: homelife

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Home Life

Christmas 2018

Holiday Greeting – 2018

Best wishes to readers during this time of striving in a world where peace is elusive.

It’s 32 degrees in Iowa. During a tour of the yard and garden it looked like the kale might recover, but only if there is a warming spell. That’s a lot to ask on the fifth day of winter. We still have fresh in the ice box and a dozen packages in the freezer. Kale is never in short supply in our household.

We miss our daughter at Christmas. When she left home, she really left, first for Florida, then Colorado, and back to Florida. I liked Colorado better because we could leave in the morning and arrive in time for supper. Not so with Florida which is a 23-hour drive to where she does work she loves.

Since graduating from college she spent one Christmas at home, in 2010. Over the years, her absence changed things. Her job requires her to work on the holidays so we developed new patterns.

One by one, old Christmas family traditions peeled off until the holiday became centered around food and phone calls. We continue to have a bowl of chili on Christmas eve and will fix a special Christmas dinner, although the menu isn’t quite planned. We have a lot of turnips and joked serving turnips would be like getting a lump of coal in our stockings. With the right recipe, though, they might make a valued new tradition… or maybe not. Whatever personal traditions we may have had were sanded off in the woodshed of time, so anything goes.

There is redemption in the calm quiet of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. It is a chance to save ourselves from errors made while living in society, to ask forgiveness from those we’ve wronged, to chart a new course through the coming years. There is hope.

My Christmas wish is for peace on earth. It is elusive, yet hope springs, and we believe it within our reach. I hope it’s within reach. I plan to work toward that end.

Best wishes to my readers for a Happy New Year!

Categories
Kitchen Garden

Very Late Fall Cookery

Garden and Farm Vegetables

With winter solstice tomorrow afternoon, it’s getting late to be calling this autumn.

There are still fresh vegetables in the ice box and plenty of ideas for what to do with them. On Monday and Tuesday I binged on YouTube videos about street food in Pakistan and India, which led me to make a batch of egg fried rice.

To begin, I am shocked by how much oil or butter is used by these street vendors. It is well known that restaurateurs use a lot of butter in cooking. Eating in diners accepts a high level of saturated fats in food. But these videos? Oh My God! A quart of vegetable oil? Two or three cups of butter? It’s enough to give a person a heart attack… literally.

In an American home we don’t use so much cooking oil yet there are lessons to be learned here. I got out the wok and spent about half an hour prepping vegetables.

I found parsley, carrots, onion, celery, turnips, kale, collards, garlic, fennel and leeks and diced them up for stir fry. There was about four cups of leftover, cooked rice, enough to use four eggs.

If I keep making this dish I need to work on seasonings. I was tempted to add red pepper flakes to the oil in the beginning but resisted the heat to see what the other flavors would lend to the experience. I kept it simple with salt, ground black pepper, ground cumin and smoked paprika. It was good without hot peppers. 

Egg Fried Rice with Local Vegetables

The rest is pretty easy. Place about four tablespoons vegetable oil in the wok and heat to temperature. Add vegetables one dish at a time in cook’s order (those needing most cooking first) reserving the parsley for finishing. Sauté and stir constantly until the vegetables begin to soften and add the eggs. Street vendors crack eggs directly into the wok, but I beat lightly in a dish and added them all at once. Stir constantly until the eggs begin to cook. Add the cumin and paprika at this point and incorporate. Add the rice and stir until the eggs are cooked and everything is incorporated and heated evenly. Add parsley and serve. Made four generous portions.

The kitchen was filled with the aroma of chopped fennel all day. In the finished dish it added a brightness that’s hard to describe. Stirring constantly helped prevent the eggs from creating a crust on the bottom of the wok and made cleanup easier. If I were to serve this as a side dish I’d reduce the number of vegetables to basic aromatics and some greens, maybe add some pine nuts. Stir fry is a flexible dish that can use up what’s on hand.

As fall turns to winter egg fried rice helped transition from ice box to pantry for food sourcing. I felt I learned from the experience of making it. In our kitchen, that’s what cooking is all about.

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Living in Society Social Commentary

Christmas is Coming

Christmas Lights

It’s been seven weeks since the end of apple season, now two weeks until Christmas. The glow has come off holiday seasons.

It’s not that I’ve become all grinchy, hidden away in a darkened lair while neighbors illuminate their homes in festive lights. I don’t know what it is but last year we didn’t even open the holiday decoration boxes and this year likely won’t either. It makes the clean up easier and there are no young children and few family members with whom to share our traditions. People turn inward this time of year and so shall we.

We make home made chili on Christmas eve and serve it with cornbread. There are special recipes and sparkling apple cider. Christmas day we’ll fix a dinner with elements of what we had for Thanksgiving — sweet potatoes, wild rice, farm vegetables, a relish plate, and a source of protein. There will be leftovers. It will be tasty and traditional.

I know what to do to make it through the holidays — contact friends and relatives and plan for next year. Write a budget, get organized for tax season, plan the garden. The world starts shutting down Christmas eve and there will be time for a long winter’s nap… or two. Time to spend writing along with restlessness and resting for what’s next in 2019… a long walk on the lake trail.

My disconnect from Christmas began with military service. The first year in Germany, no one even knew I was there except for the battalion commander’s secretary and my family. Without a telephone, before the time of personal computers, I spent the holiday alone and that broke me from family traditions. By the time New Year’s came, other officers realized I was there and tried to include me. It felt ersatz and futile.

There was a resurgence of Christmas spirit with some joyful times when we married. Even in our decoration-less home with just the two of us the day is special. That will be enough. We’ll miss having our daughter with us and will think of her as Christmas day turns to night. One year she worked the park’s fireworks display as families gathered on streets of make-believe. Someone has to make holiday memories for night visitors.

Today I return for a shift at the home, farm and auto supply store. With five days off work I’m getting cabin fever and that will dissipate as morning turns to afternoon. Socialization at work is a main reason to stay in the work force while I can. Soon the Christmas merchandise will go on clearance with bargains to be had. I might bring something home. Who knows whether our holiday lights will even work after so long in storage. I might even use them again this year because hope remains. It’s the season of hope.

Categories
Kitchen Garden

Lazy Vegetarian

Home Made Veggie Burger

We are an ovo-lacto vegetarian household, although Morningstar Farms makes me a lazy vegetarian at home.

In our ecology of food we still purchase mass-produced, vegetarian burgers, recipe crumbles and chik patties. It’s an easy dinner to warm one up, prepare a couple of side dishes, and call it done.

I came up in a household where variations of hamburger played a number of roles. Mother made burgers, chili, taco meat, meat loaf, meatballs, and many other dishes using various cuts of ground beef. To a large extent, our current use of meat substitutes is to evoke memories of that long ago childhood.

A couple of homemade vegetarian burger patties wait in the freezer, and I look forward to finding or inventing a recipe that hits all the notes of satisfaction. Maybe then we can quit using outside products. In the interim, manufactured meat substitutes create a predictable, inexpensive, convenient source of food comfort.

I recently read Anthony Bourdain’s book, Appetites, in which he wrote about hamburgers. I don’t know if he approved of manufactured burgers, but using inexpensive buns from the wholesale club, I took his written explanation and videos and made a hamburger sandwich that proved to be quite delicious. A burger and fries (made from local potatoes parboiled and frozen after harvest), with home made dill pickles, is my go to dinner when my spouse is working. The manufactured burger patties fit the recipe just right.

I mentioned the Bourdain story to a friend. His response? “You do know he committed suicide?” Guess I’m not too worried about that possibility. For now, meat substitutes remain in our food ecology.

Tradition and memory play a role in our food culture. It wouldn’t be that difficult to figure out the nutritional content of food products and construct a generic meal designed to meet nutritional needs. The dialectic between nutritional science and memory waxes and wanes, and a desire to serve memory seems unlikely to be suppressed. As Chef Matt Steigerwald said, “Food is important.” I submit a corollary, “Food we grew up with is also important.”

I’m not really a vegetarian, except at home where I am a lazy one. From time to time, at social events, or when I’m in a hurry, I’ll eat something containing meat. Suffice it that the industrial meat complex is not sustained by my meager consumption of its products.

When I worked a summer job at a meat packing plant, one of the measures of our work among summer help was whether or not we’d eat what we made. That depends, I said. We made things like fertilizer, rendered lard, chitterlings, organ meat and other exotica which haven’t had a place on my plate ever. Back in the day, when I was single, I occasionally bought white bread, packaged bologna, and yellow mustard to make sandwiches, although those seem like ancient times. There were enough FDA inspectors around the plant to engender a feeling that the food products were safe to eat. I’m not sure that remains the case and my exposure to it is minimal.

It doesn’t seem human to be regimented or formulaic in the kitchen. If it were, why wouldn’t we have a home robot prepare all our meals? I’m no robot and flourish in an environment where each kitchen session is a blank slate. There are also times when a burger, fries and a dill pickle make me feel like home. That has little to do with nutrition.

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Home Life Kitchen Garden

Tofu Mole – Not a Recipe

Mole and Adobo Paste

I found jars of mole and adobo paste in the pantry. They expired a long time ago but that didn’t stop me from re-hydrating a jar with home made vegetable broth and making a dish with tofu.

Using prepared mole paste makes the process easy. Layer drained and washed black beans, cut corn and cubes of firm tofu in a casserole. Next, pour mole sauce all over and bake in a 375º oven until thoroughly heated and bubbling, about 35 minutes. Top the casserole with sliced green onions and fresh cilantro if available. Spoon the mixture on brown rice to make a satisfying meal.

This is not a recipe as there is no intent for readers to prepare the dish. I’m capturing a moment in time. I’m not even sure I will make Tofu Mole again once the jars of paste are used up.

It’s another idea on the current excursion into Mexican flavors. It is all uncharted territory and that makes the journey engaging.

Categories
Home Life

Where Music Lived

Showing off calluses on my fingertips Photo Credit – Mike Carron

During the last couple of decades the role of music in my life diminished. There was no plan, it happened on its own, without a recognizable nudge.

My guitars and banjo are tucked in safe places around the house, protected from the elements, largely unused. I sold my Telecaster to long-time friend Dennis. It has been a long time since anyone used the piano in the living room. My shelves of vinyl, cassettes and compact disks gather dust. Since the budget cuts on public radio, I can’t find a station that plays music in a range of eras and styles. In the car, my presets are country and classic rock. For the 25-minute commute to the home, farm and auto supply store I can stand them, mostly. The last musical concert I attended was a Celtic guitarist at the local library. I follow him on YouTube and that’s where I do most of my home music listening today.

It wasn’t always so. In first grade I served as emcee for a variety show at Sacred Heart Catholic School. I wore a bow tie and rehearsed my lines carefully. There were words I never heard before in the script. I introduced performances by my classmates, then wanted to perform.

When we moved across town in 1959 I took piano lessons at the grade school. I practiced in the upstairs gymnasium which also served as an auditorium, my rendition of Brahms bounced off the walls of a large, empty room at the end of the school day. My neighbor, a couple grades ahead of me, was a guitarist and played a concert for us graders before he left for high school. I thought he was cool, and he’s now one of the few people I know who make a living as a singer songwriter.

By eighth grade I was playing guitar. On a snowy day the year the Beatles came to America Mother took me to the King Korn stamp store where she traded books of stamps for a Kay guitar. I played my first concert of folk songs in eighth grade along with some neighborhood friends.

In high school, I took guitar lessons from the late Joe Crossen who played in a rock and roll band. After that, I tried to learn classical guitar at university but my fingernails weren’t good enough to make it work. After leaving Davenport in 1970 I felt music would be part of me. For many years it was. I don’t know what happened. This is not a lament or dirge. I accept life as I find it while imagining the future as it should be.

The other day Jacque and I were listening to different versions of The Dutchman, a ballad by Michael Peter Smith. We listened to his, Steve Goodman’s and Liam Clancy’s versions and it became clear Smith’s phrasing and tempo made the better experience, evoking an emotional response. We talked about the song which has been a favorite since early in our relationship. It was surprising how good Smith’s version was, when we’d only paid attention to Goodman all these years.

I’m awake early this morning, tapping on the keyboard. My sister in law stayed over last night after a brunch with friends in the Quad Cities. I don’t want to wake the house and keep the music turned off. Neither do I use headphones because I live in the moment at my desk. If there are noises in the house — the water softener cycling, someone walking to the bathroom, the washing machine running — I want to hear it. No muffled reality for me.

I don’t know about music any more. Every so often I find a song I like and listen to it repeatedly for a while. Then I get over the infatuation. What I mostly want is a feeling I should play music again. It’s not there yet. It may never be. I have a hard time visualizing it.

I remember traveling the Mediterranean coast with a young student from Germany in the 1970s. We had Eurail passes and rode trains from Barcelona, Spain to Genoa, Italy, playing guitars in our youth hostels until the host reluctantly said it was getting part curfew. I played lead to his rhythm and vocals, it was life as good as it gets, fleeting, transitory, in the moment. That can’t be captured again in the same way. Despite years and neglect, music can live within us. At least that’s my hope in late autumn.

Categories
Home Life

Thanksgiving Leftovers

Tacos

I put Thanksgiving leftovers in a plastic dish for my lunch at the home, farm and auto supply store.

Low levels of activity characterized the last week. Once I finished morning sessions at my writing desk, I didn’t leave the house much. I don’t like the thought of going to work today, yet two shifts each week provides structure and socialization. It would be easy to get disconnected from society where we live. It’s time to get going again with a trip across the lakes.

I made a slaw of green cabbage and daikon radish and put a serving in a plastic container to supplement the beans, kale and rice lunch in the other. I’m ready for my shift.

Yesterday the Cedar Rapids Gazette reported Devotay, the restaurant started by Kurt and Kim Friese, was shuttering Jan. 1, 2019. Frieses sold the restaurant last January and under new owners the tapas bar is not attracting enough customers. They plan to re-name the Linn Street restaurant, create a new menu and re-open. Tapas was a thing when I worked in the Chicago loop, and I’ve eaten paella in Spain, but today’s potential customers apparently don’t get it. Such is restaurant life in a county seat that hosts a large university with a transient population.

As I read the news, the letter carrier delivered a copy of Friese’s book A Cook’s Journey: Slow Food in the Heartland. When I ordered it, the web site said it was the last copy in stock, although it was published across the lake in North Liberty. They can probably make more as long as there is demand. I knew of Friese the food author, but never read him, ate in his restaurant, or ran into him around the county. I met him when he became more active in politics. He was a good writer and a great conversationalist. I still can’t believe he is gone.

To make sense of our food ecology, some knowledge of what Friese did is essential. Until his last days he was recruiting people to join the slow food movement. I doubt anyone can replace what he did because of his long tenure and specific knowledge. Devotay likely relied on this as well and was bound to change after they sold.

“Food is important,” chef Matt Steigerwald said when he opened Lincoln Cafe in Mount Vernon. While I didn’t know Kurt Friese’s food hardly at all, he left a legacy which is likely entwined in the Thanksgiving leftovers I packed for lunch. I intend to unpack his food legacy in my quest to understand the complex food ecology where we live.

But for now, I have to get ready for my shift.

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Home Life Kitchen Garden

Into the Light

Black Friday, 4:30 a.m., at the home, farm and auto supply store

I spent much of Black Friday loading customer vehicles with large, bulky items that were on sale. It was often a three-person job.

Management had us come in an hour before the store opened at 6 a.m. to put the final preparatory touches on what is one of our biggest sales days of the year.

A crowd of shoppers waited when we opened. Given the types of merchandise we carry and aggressive pursuit of Black Friday market share, it was no surprise.

Throughout my shift shoppers arrived in vehicles containing bags of merchandise from other stores. We helped fill them up and all was good in retail world.

I was tired when I arrived home at 2:30 p.m., more because my early morning schedule was disrupted than the work I did at the home, farm and auto supply store.

First thing I did was make a batch of red chile sauce using dried New Mexico chilies.

We continue to have kale in the garden so the day before I planned a last-minute dish for our Thanksgiving dinner. Before I forget, here’s what I did:

Saute a diced medium onion in a frying pan. Add a couple of cloves of diced garlic. Once the onions and garlic are tender, add a pint of diced tomatoes and a tablespoon of Mexican oregano. When the sauce comes together, add a large amount of sliced kale leaves with the stems removed. I used three big leaves but more is okay because it will cook down. The stems can be sliced finely and added for more texture. Add a drained and rinsed can of prepared black beans. Season with salt to taste. Reduce heat to a simmer until the liquid has evaporated and serve hot as a side dish.

I had dinner of Thanksgiving leftovers and went to bed early. There will be a lot to do as we come into the light of this weekend.

Categories
Home Life

A Vegetarian Menu

What does a Thanksgiving menu look like in an ovo-lacto vegetarian household?

Deviled eggs, crudites and pickles

Roasted pumpkin seeds

Pickles and crudités

Deviled eggs

Vegetable Dishes

Wild rice pilaf

Baked sweet potato

Steamed green peas

Kale and black beans in tomato sauce

Desserts

Cranberry relish

Apple crisp

Almond flour shortbread cookies

Sparkling apple cider

Categories
Home Life

Thanksgiving 2018

Roasted Pumpkin Seeds

There’s a lot for which to be thankful this Thanksgiving.

None of who I am would be possible without the strong support of family and friends. I don’t often write about them in public and that’s by design. They are there, rock solid, behind the twists and turns of my days while sustaining a life in a turbulent world.

There are other thanks to give.

I am thankful for Social Security. Fifty years ago, when I made my first contributions, I did not like the deductions from my paycheck. I rationalized them by saying when I reach retirement age the program would be there for me. It lived up to that long ago promise. Whether Social Security will continue is uncertain. The band of grifters currently leading us in Washington wants to cut the program. The more extreme among them and their supporters would eliminate it entirely. I thank Franklin Delano Roosevelt for creating the program and for the many who have stood up for it over the years. I’ve worked hard during my life and because of Social Security we’ll be able to subsist as we age.

I am thankful to be a member of the Democratic Party. In Johnson County, Iowa we have a diverse membership. When we gather, as we did on Tuesday, the conversations are meaningful and our shared history relevant to our daily lives. Set aside the polarizing depiction of liberals by right wing organizations and media and we are plain folk working to live decent lives. I admit I do like organically grown turnips out of my garden. That’s hardly political as a right wing commentator recently suggested. My friends in the Democratic Party know that.

I am thankful to have good health. A co-worker at the home, farm and auto supply store told me yesterday I looked well-preserved. By that I hope he meant I looked younger than my age and not already partly embalmed. My longevity is more likely due to not smoking, drinking only a couple ounces of alcohol per month, avoiding most animal meat in my diet, and staying engaged in society. We never know when our lives might end. I am thankful to have made it thus far.

I am thankful to live in Iowa. Despite recent changes in our governance, how we live is so much better than being a slave in the Thai seafood industry, being a war refugee in the Middle East, being a climate refugee as deserts grow in Sub-Saharan Africa, or being a person without means living on the draw in Southwestern Virginia where my father’s family came up.  On our worst days an Iowan can have hope and for that I am thankful.

I am thankful for the farming community to which I belong. My life in rural Iowa creates a lens through which I see the world more clearly. It ties me to the weather, land use, water quality, food production, and skills and techniques that make me a better gardener. My work with our home owners association and as a township trustee familiarized me with public drinking water, sewer and sanitation, emergency services, managing cemeteries, tax levies, and how people get along with each other. I’m in pretty deep and expect to remain so. Life would be less if I weren’t.

There are more thanks to give and before closing I thank my readers. Your views, likes and comments mean a lot. They encourage me to continue. Without a readership, a writer is little more than a dog barking at the moon. I’m thankful to have seen the full moon setting this morning, behind trees I planted two decades ago. Soon the sun will rise on another day and I want to be part of it.