Tag: homelife

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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.

Categories
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.

Categories
Home Life Kitchen Garden

Into the 2018 Holidays

Wild Turkeys in the Johnson County Lake District

This year’s holiday season is just beginning. I’ve been reluctant to turn the page on a year of transition and hesitate still.

We’re writing a Thanksgiving Day menu together and thus far know there will be our special recipes for wild rice and cranberry relish, along with sweet potatoes, green peas and an extensive relish tray split between crudités for her and pickles for me. There are roasted pumpkin seeds.

Yesterday I went to the orchard to buy Gold Rush apples for the cranberry dish. It was the last chance to catch up with my orchard co-workers until mid-December. I bought frozen Montmorency cherries from Michigan. The retail merchandise on display is dwindling down, soon to be placed in storage until next year. Should I get another frozen pie or two to last through winter? I don’t know but we have peach, cherry and apple already and once we get past the holidays anything that’s left will likely rest in the freezer. We are not dessert people and potluck season is drawing to a close.

Seventeen degree weather ended the kale run. I cut the number of plants in half this season and we still had more than could be used in a single household. We have fresh kale in the ice box and will use it in some to be determined dish on Thanksgiving. The point of all the food is the leftovers, and not having to cook for a few days.

My orchard supervisor asked me what I was doing with my weekends now that the season is finished. I didn’t have a good answer. I’ve been napping more, reading too, and preserving the abundance that still lives in our ice box. At some point I must turn the page. She asked how many we were having for Thanksgiving dinner. Like always, it’s just the two of us.

Until soil blocking begins at the farm in late February my weeks are two days at the home, farm and auto supply store and five days to do what I will. Three months to make progress on home projects among which writing is most important to me. To begin planning would be turning the page on life, something I’m not ready to do.

By Wednesday I should feel more in the holiday spirits as I have dinner planned with a friend. I’m not one to linger in uncertainty, at least I didn’t used to be. I’ll take these days into the 2018 holidays one at a time. Focused on the present, rooted in the past, and hoping for a better life afterward. Sustaining a life in a turbulent world.

Categories
Kitchen Garden

Functional Tortillas

Second Batch of Tortillas

I made corn tortillas for the first time last week. They tasted okay, but weren’t the best. They served.

A tortilla press is forgiving but my dough texture and portioning needs practice. The second batch was better than the first, so there’s hope of better fresh tortillas.

Tortilla-making was not part of our family culture coming up. Mother began making tacos at home when she worked in the grade school cafeteria. She used store-bought tortillas and everyone liked them, including some of my friends who frequently asked, “when is taco night?” Those were the days when neighborhood grocery stores began selling more prepared food and eventually instituted a “Mexican section” in one of the aisles. Occasionally I make taco filling similar to what Mother made. When I do, it’s comfort food, plain and simple.

I’ve been buying raw flour tortillas from the warehouse club and make breakfast tacos once or twice a week. Home made tortillas provide better control of what goes into them.

Tortillas serve as a better delivery system than a slice of bread, or pouring stir fry on rice. Fillings can more interesting than tortillas. In the works is a kale, black bean and Guajillo chili sauce filling. My recent project of buying a press and warmer, Guajillo and New Mexican chilies, Mexican oregano and Mexican cheese is to develop new meal options. If it goes well, I’ll cultivate different chilies in the garden next year, although I’ve already ordered the seeds so there’s little doubt about that.

Tortillas are like the mathematical function that establishes relationship between inputs and outputs. At the beginning is the raw material from the garden. In the end, it can lead to a better life.

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Home Life Juke Box Writing

Landslide

We don’t have mountains in Iowa. There are only so many cliffs. The idea of a landslide conjures something abstract and usage is mostly related to politics and the hope of a big win in the November general election.

Politics is not what I have in mind.

I’m on a bit of hiatus. Not sure when I’ll return but for the time being here’s a video for your entertainment.

Here’s hoping to well survive the landslide.