This week brings the first (long-awaited) storms to Northern California. Last night, I fitfully slept as the wind roared. Today, the air is heavy with the metallics of wet gravel, the stinky mustiness of soaked earth. My senses feel reawakened, as if lifted from urban hibernation by the smelling salts of heady nature.
These are not the scents of spring: the pollen from blossoms, the freshness of sprouts emerging from the warming soil.
The groundhog should not watch for his shadow, but rather smell the air. I think this winter remains, although it arrived late and arrived mildly.
The number that changed my life
At Stanford each spring, students chose their housemates/roommates for the following year by forming draw groups. Housing assignments were done by lottery. Houses on the Row, the prime real estate, would get gobbled up quickly. Run-down dormitories at the campus fringe remained open. These self-assembled “cliques” would march to the student housing office, draw a number out of a cardboard box, and hope for some good residential karma.
The first year of my draw, my group drew #1920 from a pool of 2000 numbers. We were assigned our 6th choice, Columbae House, a co-op on the Row. Living at Columbae changed my life. I learned that year that cooking for your community, feeding one another, fosters something really wonderful. We applauded every dinner, literally, in gratitude for the food and for the cooks. We also literally broke bread every night--well, every morning around 1AM--when the designated bread baker pulled his/her loaves from the oven. Warm, fresh bread slathered with butter is amazing, even when you’re not in college and wasted from partying.
That year, I also decided to commit to vegetarianism. It has been 18 years.
The first year of my draw, my group drew #1920 from a pool of 2000 numbers. We were assigned our 6th choice, Columbae House, a co-op on the Row. Living at Columbae changed my life. I learned that year that cooking for your community, feeding one another, fosters something really wonderful. We applauded every dinner, literally, in gratitude for the food and for the cooks. We also literally broke bread every night--well, every morning around 1AM--when the designated bread baker pulled his/her loaves from the oven. Warm, fresh bread slathered with butter is amazing, even when you’re not in college and wasted from partying.
That year, I also decided to commit to vegetarianism. It has been 18 years.
I'll be back
It's May, and this is my first post of the year. 2011 has been ... interesting, to say the least. I've been absent these last several months because I've been attending to a lot of personal and family challenges.
But these are behind me now, and I hope to be back, cooking and eating and sharing with you.
But these are behind me now, and I hope to be back, cooking and eating and sharing with you.
Where the basil grows
In June, we had enough days of wet fog and dismal gray that it forced me to plan a getaway to somewhere warm. Thanks to the generosity of my friend, John, we spent a week in Maui in early July. We returned to yet more gray and yet more fog. (San Francisco experienced its coldest July in 35 years.) Three weeks later, we went to Cleveland, where it was warm and summery. I wore tank tops and sundresses. I swam in Lake Erie.
We returned to San Francisco and slogged through gray August.
Now it is September, and I anxiously await my Indian Summer. Alas, today is ... foggy. Novel. My delayed summer has been delayed, again.
Today, I vow to live in a place where basil can grow.
We returned to San Francisco and slogged through gray August.
Now it is September, and I anxiously await my Indian Summer. Alas, today is ... foggy. Novel. My delayed summer has been delayed, again.
Today, I vow to live in a place where basil can grow.
Wish list . . . updated
From my holiday wish list, we got Junipero gin to concoct delicious, cool martinis. I love, love, love gin. (My body doesn't.)
Inspired by a drink I had at Aziza, I made lavender-infused simple syrup for the cocktails below. Use Junipero for subtle gin flavor or Tanqueray for big gin goodness.
THE FRENCH 94118
2 oz gin
1-2 Tbsp freshly squeezed orange juice
2 tsp lavender syrup (see below)
Shake all ingredients over ice. Serve up in a well-chilled martini glass, optionally with an orange twist.
Lavender-infused simple syrup
1/2 c water
1/2 c sugar
2 tsp lavender flowers
Be sure to use edible lavender flowers, which are available at herb shops and some specialty food stores.
Combine all ingredients in a heavy saucepan. Bring to gentle boil, then reduce heat to simmer. Continue simmering for approximately 15-20 minutes, or until the liquid reduces to resemble a thin syrup. Cool, then strain out lavender. If you have any leftover syrup, use it to sweeten whipped cream . . . totally luscious.
Inspired by a drink I had at Aziza, I made lavender-infused simple syrup for the cocktails below. Use Junipero for subtle gin flavor or Tanqueray for big gin goodness.
THE FRENCH 94118
2 oz gin
1-2 Tbsp freshly squeezed orange juice
2 tsp lavender syrup (see below)
Shake all ingredients over ice. Serve up in a well-chilled martini glass, optionally with an orange twist.
Lavender-infused simple syrup
1/2 c water
1/2 c sugar
2 tsp lavender flowers
Be sure to use edible lavender flowers, which are available at herb shops and some specialty food stores.
Combine all ingredients in a heavy saucepan. Bring to gentle boil, then reduce heat to simmer. Continue simmering for approximately 15-20 minutes, or until the liquid reduces to resemble a thin syrup. Cool, then strain out lavender. If you have any leftover syrup, use it to sweeten whipped cream . . . totally luscious.
Springtime salad slaw
So it's technically summer, but it feels like springtime in San Francisco, perfect for a delicate salad of radishes, carrots, and fennel. This dish would be perfect for Easter brunch.
Note: I used a mandoline to make paper-thin slices of the veggies, but you can chop them. The thinner the slices, the better the dressing will adhere.
1 carrot
1/2 fennel bulb
1 bunch of radishes
juice of 1/2 orange (approximately 3 Tbsp)
2-3 Tbsp champagne vinegar
1/4 c extra virgin olive oil
salt + pepper
2-3 Tbsp Italian parsley, finely chopped
Thinly slice carrots, fennel, and radishes. Whisk together orange juice, champagne vinegar, and olive oil. Toss vegetables with dressing. Season generously with salt & pepper. (I used 2 tsp of salt.) Stir in parsley.
Serves 2-4 as a salad (as is or on top of frisee for extra flavor and texture.) Serves 4 as a slaw on top of grilled fish, such as halibut.
Holiday wish list
'T'is the season to wish for things that you can't have but would sustain you a whole year if you got them. Here's my holiday wish list*:
-a bottle of Junipero gin
-dinner for 2 at Coi or Eleven Madison Park
-episodes of Good Eats on DVD
Happy holidays!!!
(*This is my realistic, 3-item-limit wish list. One can get greedy and start asking for pie-in-the-sky, like having Michael Chiarello as a personal chef.)
-a bottle of Junipero gin
-dinner for 2 at Coi or Eleven Madison Park
-episodes of Good Eats on DVD
Happy holidays!!!
(*This is my realistic, 3-item-limit wish list. One can get greedy and start asking for pie-in-the-sky, like having Michael Chiarello as a personal chef.)
In case of emergency
My beau has been compiling a stock of emergency supplies in case "the big one hits." I laughed along for a while, but I think it's naïve of me to believe that we'll be rescued immediately, or that I won't freak after being locked up for 24 hours without food or water, or that people will be loving and helpful. (My change of heart is also attributed to reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road.)
I am grateful now for all the work and research he did to compile our emergency backpack. Now we have to set aside some nonperishable food stuffs as well as lots of water. Here's my list of food that I pray will be in the house when the big one hits: (To be more precise, these foods will at least make me feel better about imminent death.)
1. Figs
2. Spinach (arugula, kale, chard, dandelion, collards, etc. are suitable substitutes)
3. Acorn and butternut squash
4. Coffee
5. Bourbon
And my shopping list for goods to stash:
1. Cannellini beans
2. Tuna
3. Veg-All
4. Coffee
5. Bourbon
What's on your list?
I am grateful now for all the work and research he did to compile our emergency backpack. Now we have to set aside some nonperishable food stuffs as well as lots of water. Here's my list of food that I pray will be in the house when the big one hits: (To be more precise, these foods will at least make me feel better about imminent death.)
1. Figs
2. Spinach (arugula, kale, chard, dandelion, collards, etc. are suitable substitutes)
3. Acorn and butternut squash
4. Coffee
5. Bourbon
And my shopping list for goods to stash:
1. Cannellini beans
2. Tuna
3. Veg-All
4. Coffee
5. Bourbon
What's on your list?
Summer lovin'
The pale ale has been drunk. The keg now sits empty and alone, waiting for its new yeastly friends to enervate it. With the next batch of homebrew, I will take the post-fermentation yeast slurry and attempt to make my own Vegemite.
Yes, the sewing has dwindled. I made baby slings for my pregnant younger sister. I finished off some grocery and produce bags, which will get some good use with the summer bounty. We're attempting to grow basil again, in the dining room against one of the few sunny windows in our apartment. If it lasts for several batches of homemade pesto, I'll be very happy.
Yes, the sewing has dwindled. I made baby slings for my pregnant younger sister. I finished off some grocery and produce bags, which will get some good use with the summer bounty. We're attempting to grow basil again, in the dining room against one of the few sunny windows in our apartment. If it lasts for several batches of homemade pesto, I'll be very happy.
Stitch in time
I haven't posted much on the food front lately because I've been obsessed with recipes/protocols of another kind: fabric patterns and sewing! I have rediscovered the joys and frustrations of thread. I have made several bags of varying styles and designs. In the first 10 days after retrieving my sewing machine from my brother, I averaged 1 bag per day.
I am obsessed. I skip workouts to sew. I daydream about fabrics. I mentally draw patterns on my bus commute. I lose track of time, forget to eat or drink. Hell, I'm now writing about it. I may have a problem. But I also know my creative processes, and I know this will abate. I have an art deadline to meet in a couple of weeks and my craft budget is dwindling. Most likely, I'll be lured away when the pale ale is ready.
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