Sugar blues

O's face looks completely normal now, not even a rash. The only itchy bits are on his arms and legs. We're hoping everything will be healed up by the time he leaves for camp on Sunday.

Yesterday we went out to Target and bought what he needed to get him through two weeks at camp -- mostly underwear and socks. We figure he can double up a couple days on stuff like shorts and sweatshirts, but not so much on underwear and socks. I also found some swimming trunks in his size for $6.50, so into the basket they went ... saves me some time at the sewing machine this week. He was rather grumpy during our shopping expedition, as was I (sugar withdrawal), and we forgot to buy a couple extra beach towels. Otherwise we're all set to pack him up ... except for the stuff I have to sew.  Oh, and he needs a haircut. Hopefully we can squeeze in an appointment before the end of the week.

I survived Monday without eating any sugar. My sugar cravings hit mostly in the evening, so the last couple hours before bedtime were misery. As I was driving past Bedford Farms on the way back from the gym, it took every ounce of self control not to drive in there and order a cup of Muddy River ice cream ... I would have dived in with gusto! I stuck with it, though, bypassing my evening cup of warm chocolate malt Ovaltine with more than a little regret. My thinking was definitely foggier yesterday ... I'm hoping after a few days, I'll be able to think a little more clearly. Just happy I'm not teaching this week; I'm not sure my students would appreciate my incoherent thinking!

A couple days ago when I was waiting for a prescription to be filled at the grocery store, I spent some time looking through the paperback books and actually bought one. I usually take books like this out of the library or buy them used, but I was so in the mood for a summer read. It's a James Patterson bio/thriller called Zoo, and as usual with his novels, it's fast paced and just what i need intellectually right now ... meaning I don't have to think too hard as I read a couple chapters before bed each night. The only problem is, I've been having disturbing dreams. The other night I dreamed a rabid bat attacked me, so I fed it to a flying skunk. (Yes, you read that right.) And last night marauding bears and tigers made their appearances ... so I'm not sure this is the best reading before bed. Maybe I'll have to finish it up by reading in the morning. (Just learned this book as been made into a tv miniseries, which I think I'll skip.)

Crafting

Not much to report on the sewing front. Taped the pdf pattern for O's board shorts together. Today I'll be cutting out the fabric. I also signed up for a free sewing class in early July at my local dealer. She told me I probably won't learn that much, but I figure if I learn a couple tips or two, it'll be worth my time.



Because of my sugar withdrawal yesterday, I had to rip back on my Pebble Beach shawl a couple times. (Missed a couple yarnovers, grrr.) It stinks when I have to rip back a row because now each row is over 200 stitches. Yes, I know I should use a lifeline, but weirdly enough I don't mind tinking, especially when the yarn is easy to work with as this yarn is. It's hard to see but the color of the yarn is starting to change from cream to pale mint. Lace is so not pretty before it has been blocked. ;-)

One of the pattern books I ordered off eBay showed up yesterday. It's from the 1960s, a collection of cabled cardigans put out by Reynolds yarn under the name "Mary of Holland." I did a bit of poking around to find out who, exactly, Mary of Holland is, since the pattern book doesn't say. The only thing Dutch about these sweaters are their names: Rotterdam, Utrecht, Dordrecht, even The Hague.











The model on the cover looks a lot like my college friend Staycee. :)

I thought the cabled designs were really pretty. I'm sure my brother will deem them "Denchy." ;-)

The waffle iron

Last night before bed, O asked me if I'd get up early and make waffles before school. Waffles are a weekend ritual around here; I have made them so many times that I don't need a recipe and can pretty much eyeball the ingredients without measuring tools. O was giving me his Big Blue Eyes look when he asked, so of course I said I'd jump out of my warm bed a little early so he could be sent off to school with Mom's good cooking in his tummy.

I go to bed before anyone else around here. As I was saying my goodnights last night, I noticed the smell of meat coming from our kitchen. Not surprising since my husband likes to eat late. What was a surprising was that he was cooking hamburger in our waffle iron. Or, I should say, he'd attempted to cook hamburger in our waffle iron. I say "our" waffle iron because it was a wedding gift we received from our friends Chris and Melanie seventeen years ago, a gift that we've often remarked has been the most-used wedding gift in our household.

I bit my tongue as I watched my husband (sheepish expression on his face) chisel bits of burger out of the iron. Then I said goodnight, too tired to observe his cooking escapades any longer.

So...I get up this morning, eager to make my son happy, and bounce into the kitchen. The waffle iron is still out and looks surprisingly clean. I plug the appliance in to heat up while I gather ingredients, and that's when I smell ... meat. Then I hear sizzling coming from the iron, which I can only assume is sizzling meat.

Undaunted, I smooth waffle batter over the heated iron and tell myself I'll do what Julia Child used to do with her first crêpe of her batch ... toss it out. I'm confident this first waffle will absorb any beefy flavor leftover on the iron, and the remaining waffles will be fine.

Except, as you can see, they weren't.

The timer went off and as I lifted the top of the iron up, the waffle pulled in half. Normally the waffles just slip out of the iron as easily as silk slips across skin. But not this morning. I reached for silicone tongs, hoping that a little force would help the remnants un-adhere. No dice.

My son walks out into the kitchen, takes one look at the mess, and says, "Oh, Dad was trying to get the hamburger out with steel wool last night."

As my friend Gwen said after seeing the picture above and hearing how my husband attempted to clean the iron, "Well, who doesn't like waffles with old hamburger, bits of steel wool, and Teflon dust in them? Maple syrup is for the weak."

I've left the waffle iron on the counter, waffle still adhered, with a note that says, "Please order a new waffle maker AND a George Foreman Grill."

I'm beginning to think there's something to this whole "Mercury is in retrograde" business everyone's talking about.

 

 

Project Chicken (Coop)

[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="375"] The old coop, before -- summer 2014[/caption]

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="375"] Looking at the coop straight on, summer 2014[/caption]

We have an old chicken coop in our backyard. For a couple years I've been itching to raise some chickens but two things have held me back: the state of the coop and my son's reluctance.

This year, the planets aligned. O and his friends are always looking for schemes to earn pocket money, so they all agreed to clean out the coop for me. And because we've been through some tough times with our pets in the past couple years, O has grown to understand that animals and pets have shorter lifespans than their owners. The thought of losing a few chickens to predators--a very real possibility around here given that our property borders a habitat teeming with coyotes, fishers, raccoons, and hawks--isn't as horrific to him as it would have been a few years ago. Plus, that has been motivating him to research the best ways to secure our coop.

It goes without saying that our coop needs a lot of work, so much so that I considered buying a prefab coop. The prefab coops I like, however, are a couple hundred dollars so I figure it's better to do some DIY on the structure we have in place.

Today it's overgrown with vines and we need to do some serious tree branch pruning. The structure is very sound. There's a wooden floor inside, along with nesting boxes. We'll replace the chicken-wire covered window openings with real shed windows that open for ventilation, and build a door. The structure doesn't have electricity but we can run an extension cord from our garage. As for the outdoor enclosure that's currently fenced with chicken wire ... I'm not so sure. It would be nice to have a completely enclosed run, but our neighbor doesn't have one and they have only lost one chicken in the last couple years. Other to-do items: the coop will need scraping and painting after the windows and door are installed and the coop has been cleaned out.

O is having a sleepover tonight and the boys have their first paying job, clearing out some of the brush and branches around the structure. Our plan is to have a coop ready for chicks mid-spring ... that gives us the fall, winter, and early spring to get it into shape. As for chickens, I have my heart set on Araucanas, the chickens that lay pastel-colored eggs. Word is they've got friendly dispositions, are good layers, and are cold-hardy.

Do you own chickens? Any advice? The one thing that's creeping me out is the thought of snakes getting in the coop to eat eggs. I don't mind seeing them out in the open, but I'll seriously freak out if I'm gathering eggs and put my hand on a snake! An acquaintance has told me, however, that her chickens kill snakes ... around here, the snakes are too small to be a real threat to eggs.

 

 

 

 

Cooking, knitting, staying warm

 

Still here. For some reason, I haven't been able to log in to WordPress. I'm pretty sure it's because my web host has been under a hacker attack.

The arctic chill has me spending a lot of time in the warm kitchen. This week I've made potato and pea samosas, hamburger buns, pop tarts with cinnamon filling, wild rice pilaf, and a potato-crusted quiche for my Paleo husband. Tomorrow I'm planning on a parsnip soup, a recipe I follow from my oft used copy of Jane Grigson's Good Things.

And I know at least one of you can tell what I've been knitting. ;-)

I had my last physical therapy session last night. My improvement in range of motion has been dramatic. Now all I have to do is get off the blood thinners, and I'll feel like I can put this latest medical drama far behind me.

Last weekend I finished refashioning a skirt I picked up at the thrift shop a couple years ago--a beautiful plaid Talbots skirt. I'm happy with the results, and it looks great with my newest knit cardigan, which I've yet to show off here. As soon as it warms up, I'll have the resident photographer set up a shoot outside.

Cheese and potato soup

It's Boxing Day in the UK. And if you're in the U.S., it's another opportunity to hit the shops for some good deals on stuff that didn't sell for Christmas.

I'll be staying in, thank you, and enjoying some hearty winter fare.

One of my favorite winter soups is inspired by a soup I used to order years ago at a takeout place in nearby Concord, a cheese and potato soup that was thick, rich, and delicious. I once asked the owner how she made it, and she told me she used to throw in kitchen odds and ends: a bit of cheddar, the rind from some Parmesan. That might sound disgusting and a tad bit coy, but I know what she meant. My best soups are often made up of leftovers.

Here's my version of that fantastic soup, which you can rustle up with pantry staples and whatever is lurking in your cheese drawer. I've used Emmentaler here, a Swiss-style semi-hard cheese that adds a touch of sharpness to the soup. Try cheddar, Gouda, mozzarella, fontina, or Gruyère, too!

Cheese and Potato Soup

Serves 4

2-oz. unsalted butter
1 small onion, chopped
1 medium baking potato, peeled and chopped
1 32-oz. container chicken or vegetable broth, preferably reduced sodium
4-oz. shredded cheese
salt to taste
garnish, if desired

1. In a medium-sized heavy-bottomed saucepan, melt butter over low heat. Add onion once butter is melted and cook gently until the onions are translucent, approximately 7 to 10 minutes.

2. Add potato to saucepan and toss to coat with butter and onion. Cook for 2 or 3 minutes.

3. Add broth and turn heat up to medium. When soup begins to boil, reduce heat to low, cover, and cook for 20 to 25 minutes, or until potato falls apart when pierced with a fork.

4. Using a stick blender or upright blender, puree soup in batches until completely smooth. If perfection is an issue for you, strain to remove any remaining chunks of onion or potato.

5. With the soup off the heat, stir in the cheese. The residual heat should melt it into the soup. Taste for salt; I use about a teaspoon of kosher salt, but you may like less or more.

6. Garnish with parsley or chopped chives. Serve and enjoy!

Another snowy day

 

Around noon we got the automated call: schools were being let out early because of the impending snow storm. Yippee! I'll let you wonder if I'm being sarcastic. My brother Matt was up here last weekend from Rhode Island and brought the tail-end of a cold with him, which I'm now valiantly fighting off. It's, unfortunately, leaving me very sluggish and unmotivated to work. No production, no pay: the glamorous life of freelancing!

So I've been finishing up holiday projects, stuff that needs to get done by ... oh my gosh, is Christmas next week? The top photo is the first batch of English toffee. It has been tested liberally, thus why I'm feeling sugar-sick. I'll be making several more batches over the next couple days and sending packages off to friends or delivering goodies in person. The recipe is from the Cooking for Engineers blog and it has never failed me. This batch was made with milk chocolate instead of semi-sweet; I'll be making future batches with the darker stuff.

The bottom photo is my first effort at knitting a teddy bear, and I have to say, it turned out quite well! When it's completely finished, I'll post details of the pattern. I've been putting off sewing the back to the front, though ... must get cracking on that. I'll be tying a red tartan ribbon around the bear's neck and sticking this cutie in O's Christmas stocking.

My 12-year-old is unabashedly fond of stuffed animals. He would probably kill me for saying this, but my favorite parenting moments involve walking into his bedroom in the morning and finding Taffy (a Bernese mountain dog), Goldie (a huge golden retriever), Softener (a mixed-breed stuffie), or Nordie (a wooly mammoth I bought in Norway many years ago) snuggled into his arms while he sleeps. The sight reminds me he's still my little boy.

What are you up to today? Are you getting snow where you are?

This and that

It's a chilly Saturday, but it's over 40 degrees F and sunny, so I'll soon be off on my recumbent trike for a long ride. I may even attempt triking over to Emerson Hospital in Concord for a blood test. (I have to have my blood drawn and tested every couple weeks while I'm on Coumadin. The bright spot is this will only last until January.)

All my pants are loose on me. This is good news, although I wish my appetite were a little better ... it's never a good idea to lose weight by eating too little. However, I did wake up very early this morning, hungry, so I came downstairs and had a cup of hot Ovaltine.

I've recently discovered streaming music (yeah, I'm late to the game) and have been creating playlists on Rdio. The one I listen to most is my classical music playlist ... a little Italian opera, a lot of Bach. (I'm particularly addicted to Bach's Brandenburg Concerto #6, first movement--its polyphonic texture delights my ears, esp. around 1:10!) At $4.95 a month, it's a bargain and it keeps our livingroom uncluttered. I've rediscovered songs from my childhood and college years; even better, it's a great way to look up music I hear in movies and on television commercials. If you can't tell, I'm a big fan!



I saw this list called "10 Little Things..." on Habitually Chic's blog, about things you can do to make this season a little nicer for others. It really resonated with me, esp. #2 and #3. I'm infamous for offering help, then not following through. Reading the list reminded me that I'd told a friend I'd send her a link to the bicycle light she admired on my bike. Done! As for #3, this is a peeve of mine -- I bend over backwards to be nice to food service/retail folks, but certain members of my family are not. Coincidently none of these family members have ever worked in retail/food service. Perhaps I'll send them this list. :)

I'm seriously thinking of knitting a vintage pattern for my next sweater project. I love love love this vintage Sirdar pattern that Subversive Femme posted this week. It would look lovely in cream fingering wool with pearl buttons. I haven't studied the pattern at any depth, but I believe it's actually a pullover, not a cardigan. I've knit three cardigans in a row and it's time for a change.

I never thought I'd say this, but I need a better coffee mug! In a fit of housecleaning/organizing last year, I went through our kitchen and donated most all of our novelty mugs -- you know, those ugly things you pick up at trade shows or on vacation. I'm thinking of a Clan MacKenzie mug; my paternal great-great grandmother was a MacKenzie:

[caption id="attachment_2447" align="alignnone" width="460"] "I Shine Not Burn" -- perfect for a writer![/caption]

I also like this vintage-y Union Jack travel mug:



Decisions, decisions ...

A few reasons why I love May

 

That last one is to remind me of what it was like around here just a couple months ago!

Today I biked into town to run some errands. What a glorious day! May and June are my absolute favorite months of the year. I adore all the birdsong, flowers, sunshine, warmth. greenery, and earthy smells. I was really enjoying my ride today when -- ooops! -- my alarm went off and I realized O was coming home early.

So I called him on his cell phone and he met me on the bike path for a short ride to the farm for a dozen eggs (me) and root beer (O). And to celebrate the season, I had a big plate of roasted asparagus for dinner. This time of year I could eat asparagus every night for dinner.

A glorious day!

 

What a week

O and I spent his spring break down in Connecticut with my parents ... a couple days at my father's house on the lake, then a day at my mother's house in Mystic.

We were lucky and got a Fiat 500 from the rental car company. I was so excited to get it. And yes, it lived up to my expectations. Not only adorable, but peppy and surprisingly comfortable. Usually after an hour of driving, I have to get out and stretch my spine ... not so with this car. I was sad to bring it back to the rental company at the week's end. :( Fingers crossed I can buy one when my car-less in suburbia experiment ends in October.

On Monday the 15th I left O with my parents and drove up to Northampton, home to my alma mater, Smith College, but more importantly, home to the yarn Mecca called WEBS, which was having its anniversary sale. I spent several hours there, bummed that the wool I'd picked out for two projects was backordered, but I did find enough for other projects in the queue. Thanks to my parents for the generous Christmas gift that financed this expedition! :)

On the way back to Connecticut, I stopped at another favorite place, City Fish Market in Wethersfield to pick up some salmon for dinner. I love this place. My mom used to buy fish here when we were kids, so it's always a nice nostalgic visit.

When I got back to my father's house, I recall asking him who won the Boston Marathon. My father is a former marathoner who has actually run this marathon, but he didn't know. I went to work preparing dinner, then went to check my e-mail when I saw a couple "Are you okay?" e-mails. Panic rising, I checked the news and saw what had happened. I quickly called my husband, who works in Cambridge, and he assured me he was fine. The rest of the night we stayed glued to the television.

We cut our visit to Connecticut a little short so we could return to Boston. It's weird, but I just wanted to be home even though it felt like everything was crazy up there. We did sneak in a visit to Storrs to the UCONN Dairy Bar, got in a nice walk at Center Church Camp, and my mother treated me to the first whole belly clams of the season down at Sea Swirl in Mystic. (Sorry, North Shore folks but Sea Swirl clams are superior, nyah-nyah.)

My husband usually works late on Thursday nights, but he came home a bit early because we'd returned. I was beat from all the drama of the week so I went to bed super-early and when I woke at 7, my husband had already left for work. He works at 500 Technology Square, which is part of MIT bordering the east campus. The first thing I do when I wake is check my e-mail ... and oh no, a bunch more e-mails asking if we're okay, or specifically if my husband is okay because of what happened at MIT!!! Frantically I checked the news, then called my husband. He happened to get into work so early that he was able to get into his building before they locked down Cambridge, but the fatal shooting and carjacking the night before had happened within a block of his building. I was so grateful that he'd come home early the night before because he would have been in the thick of it otherwise!

I had some worry that he wouldn't be able to get home that night, but with the action firmly over in Watertown, he was able to leave work around noon and return home.

And that was that.

I can't bear to watch the news anymore. It disgusts me that such a fun, iconic event like the Boston Marathon was attacked like this. But the pundits and comedians all have it right: Boston is a tough city. I mean come on ... we stuck by the Red Sox for how long? The people who live here are resilient. My heart goes out to the families who lost loved ones who were too young to pass. The people who were hurt and maimed will be loved and supported by not just their families, but the whole community.

 

 

 

Cheesy kale chips

 

A few years ago, when I was feeling really terrible, I went on a raw vegan diet. Don't laugh. I know the science behind raw foodism is complete bonkers, but I felt like my body needed lots of fresh, raw vegetables at the time and considering I don't like meat much at all and eat tons of veggies, adopting the diet wasn't such a struggle. Weight I'd been carrying around since the birth of my son dropped away, my skin glowed with health, and I felt terrific!

Then I got diagnosed with colon cancer.

The cancer was slow-growing, meaning it had been inside me long before I adopted a raw food diet, but I often wonder if that year-long foray into eating fresh, raw organic food helped in any way. Maybe it slowed the growth of those cancer cells so they didn't invade the tissue around the tumor, which would have given me a wholly different prognosis.

Or maybe the diet didn't do a damn thing.

A month ago I started transitioning back to my vegetarian diet -- lots of leafy green veggies, salads, colorful squashes, some starch, and the occasional taste of nightshade fruits (tomatoes, potatoes, eggplant, and red peppers). I avoid gluten as it irritates my digestive system post surgery, and I'm now off caffeine (thanks to Dandy Blend) and have cut back severely on sugar (slowly getting used to stevia in my morning Dandy Blend.) I am thinking of giving up dairy, too, except that I love cheese. I would marry cheese if I could.

One treat I loved when I was eating "raw" was kale chips. I discovered cheesy kale chips in a gourmet market over in Concord. They were something like $7 or $8 for a medium-size bag and I'm pretty sure I ate the whole bag before I got home. I looked at the ingredients and decided to make my own recipe since I grew tons of kale and owned a dehydrator.

Kale chips are seriously delicious. Even though I eat real cheese on a regular basis, I think they still taste very cheesy. After about an hour of dehydrating, they fill my house with such a mouthwatering smell, I start lifting the lid to nibble on the small bits that are almost dry. (That's why the tray above looks a little sparse.)

A couple tips: you really need a heavy-duty blender to make the cheese sauce. We have a Vitamix, which turns the nuts into a creamy butter. I don't think a regular blender would work. You do not need a dehydrator, though. I've made successful batches of kale chips with my oven set at 175-200 degrees F. However, it seems to take longer to crisp them up in the oven.

Cheesy Kale Chips

1 cup raw cashews, soaked in water overnight and drained

1 red pepper, chopped roughly

2 tbsp. lemon juice (I cheat and use bottle juice sometimes)

1 tbsp. nutritional yeast (do not confuse this with baking yeast, which makes bread rise. Nutritional yeast is used by vegetarians/vegans as its rich in Vitamin B12 and has a slightly cheesy flavor.)

1/2 tsp. sea salt

Kale, approximately 12-15 oz. (I buy the prewashed kale at Whole Foods for $2.99 and use about 3/4 of the bag)

Combine all ingredients except the kale in the mixer jar. Blend on high speed until the sauce is smooth and creamy.

Place kale in a large bowl big enough so that you can toss and mix it around. Pour the sauce over and rub it into the kale. I spend about five minutes giving the kale its cheese bath.

Place the kale on your dehydrator trays. (It's okay to crowd it -- after an hour or two it will shrink up and you can rearrange everything.) Dehydrate at 135 degrees F for four to six hours until crisp and crackly. Test often. ;-)

If you try cheesy kale chips, let me know what you think.

 

Morning porridge

"Into these bowls, Mrs Squeers, assisted by the hungry servant, poured a brown composition, which looked like diluted pincushions without the covers, and was called porridge." -- The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby, Charles Dickens

It's a blustery morning here outside Boston, and although the wind gusts are warm, the gray, wet weather calls for a bowl of hot porridge.

We typically think of porridge being a oats-based cereal, but most any hot grain cereal can be considered "porridge." When I was a child and teenager, I remember reading novels where children were forced to choke down their morning porridge, a horrid cold, gray slop. I never made the connection that this dish was the same one I ate most mornings, whether it was the Cream of Wheat or Cream of Rice that my maternal grandmother cooked for us, or the packets of instant oatmeal flavored with apples and cinnamon I'd eat on the run. Hot cereal was always my favorite breakfast, and forty years later, it still is.

I'm the only one in our household who loves starting the day with a bowl of hot porridge. My son won't touch it, maybe because I pointed out to him he shares the same name as a wide-eyed urchin who had the courage to ask for another bowl of porridge. (Actually, poor Oliver wanted more gruel, which is a thin, watery porridge.) My favorite grain for porridge is Bob's Red Mill 8-Grain Cereal. It's not gluten-free, but it is free of wheat, a grain my digestive system struggles with. It consists of ground corn, oats, brown rice, soy beans, oat bran, millet, sorghum, sunflower seeds, and flaxseed.

Here's how I make it. I bring one cup of water and a pinch of salt to boil. I add 1/4 cup cereal and turn the heat down to low, stirring frequently so the cereal doesn't stick to the bottom of the pan. If it looks like it's getting too thick, I add some hot water and keep stirring. I like my porridge with a bit of chew, so after about four or five minutes of cooking, I start tasting it. When it's to my liking, I scrape the cereal into a large bowl and the fun begins.

Since porridge is rather bland, it marries well with flavorful toppings. My usual additions are a handful of slivered almonds, a handful of frozen wild blueberries, a teaspoon of coconut oil (esp. in winter!), and a good slosh of maple syrup. Then I top with a bit of milk, mix it all together, then enjoy my porridge while reading my favorite blogs. Not only is this a pleasant ritual, eating porridge every morning powers me through to the afternoon -- I get a quick burst of energy from the carbs and sugars, then more steady energy from the fats and proteins in the nuts, coconut oil, and milk. When I skip my porridge routine, I feel it for the rest of the day.

Are you fan of hot cereals? How do you make yours?

January light

Meyer lemon marmalade

From this:



to this:



The recipe is easy: chop up lemons finely. I used Meyer lemons, available only from November to early January. Remove as many seeds/pips as possible, as well as the thick membrane that runs down the center of the fruit. This is the messiest part of the job!

Measure the chopped fruit into a heavy saucepan and add the same amount of water. For example, if you get 3 cups of chopped fruit, add 3 cups of water. Bring mixture to a hard boil and cook for 25 to 30 minutes until peels are soft. Remove from heat. Measure out a like amount of sugar ... again, if you got three cups of chopped fruit, measure out three cups of sugar. Add sugar to pan and return to heat. Cook over high heat, stirring frequently, until the marmalade thickens and sheets off the spoon instead of drips. If you use a thermometer, this can be around 217 - 222 degrees Fahrenheit. Remove from heat immediately and spoon marmalade into clean jars. Refrigerate.

Now before you yell at me for not sterilizing my jars ... I get roughly four jars of marmalade from five lemons, all of which will be devoured by next week. Lemons are extremely acidic, which means they're a poor host for botulism, and I store my jars in the refrigerator. If you plan to give your marmalade away or store it for awhile, then I would advise you to consult with a proper preserve-making handbook.

Enjoy the fruits of January!

Looking back

Last night my husband arrived home from work with my birthday treat, something I look forward to all year long:



Don't laugh. It's very tasty. It's a long-standing tradition in my family that I get a Pepperidge Farm Coconut Cake on my birthday. It stems from one year when my mother forgot to make me a birthday cake and all we had on hand was a frozen Pepperidge Farm one in the freezer so that's what I got. DH came home very late last night so I'll work on devouring my cake today (no one else in the house loves cake like I do). I give myself a day to scarf it down because my digestive system doesn't tolerate wheat and sugar the way it used to. I'll be paying for this debauchery tomorrow.

With birthdays I guess it's "traditional" to look back. I didn't do much of that yesterday, but it has been one of those years where my past has knocked on my door and invited itself in for a visit. In most cases this isn't such a bad thing, but it's not comfortable for me. I'm not one who spends a lot of time looking over my shoulder. No, I'm the one in my family who's always eagerly anticipating what's around the corner and urging others to stop living in the past. Maybe because the future hasn't been as shiny and bright for me as it has been in other years (sorry if that sounds mysterious and morose; life isn't that horrible!) that I'm lulled into thinking it's not so bad to trip down memory lane.

A few months ago I learned that my 30th high school reunion would be held in November, just a couple weeks from now. I've never been to one, nor have I had any desire to attend. High school wasn't  a happy time for me. While I wasn't unpopular, I, like of lot of kids, never felt like I fit in. There was a definite clique element in our school that I had no part of and it was pretty clear early on I'd never be part of. Fresh off my parents' bitter divorce, I struggled through those four years and went through great lengths to hide my misery, which, in retrospect, I failed miserably at hiding. Throughout high school I was always looking forward, planning my escape into college and adulthood. However, in the last year I've reconnected with several of my high school friends (thanks Facebook!) and it has been -- well -- nice! To my great pleasure, I found out that my instincts picking out friends in high school were pretty good. They all grew into kind and interesting adults, with productive and interesting lives, people I'd associate with today and not just because I sat next to them in 10th grade English or that we liked The Cars.

And funnily enough, none of them are attending the reunion either. Hmm.

My 25th college reunion is also coming up, and this I may attend. Visiting my alma mater is always a pleasure; my years at Smith were some of my happiest, and I love walking around the campus, letting the nostalgia wash over me while alternately marveling at all the changes -- houses gone, new buildings up, feeling so youthful inside but looking around and realizing I'm the oldest person sitting in the cafe who's knitting. (Northampton, and Smith in particular, is filled with knitters and not just because WEBS is down the street!) It's a strange feeling, but one that doesn't bother me.

This year I've had a couple ex-boyfriends look me up; not surprising as we're all approaching/have passed the half-century mark and I suppose it's natural to want to take a last look at what you passed up before it shrivels into raisinhood. These exchanges haven't been unpleasant either. A few years ago I would have ignored them. Now it just feels silly to hold grudges or wonder "what if." What's done is done ... move on.

But I'm still not going to my high school reunion.

Stinging nettles

Every spring I keep my eyes peeled for patches of stinging nettles but rarely have any luck finding them. We had a small patch in the side yard of our old house one year, but in following years the nettles never re-emerged. Now those of you who know stinging nettles as a noxious weed are thinking, "What on God's green earth does this woman want with those dreadful plants?!?"

Why, I want them for dinner!

Several years ago I swooned over a some nettle soup I was served at a foraging dinner in Boston. First off, the color was lovely; you all know how I feel about green food. The soup happened to be delicious, too -- it tasted slightly of spinach, and with a shaving of nutmeg and Parmesan cheese, the humble soup sent me to Nirvana. I could hardly believe the flavor came from a plant most people consider a nuisance, even though I'm well aware how delicious foraged foods can be.

Stinging nettles are easy to identify. They tend to grow in lush patches and their dark green serrated leaves look distinctive to me, but if you're not sure, give the stem a light pinch and ow! Feel that nasty sting? A sure sign you've got yourself some nettles.

Last week I was biking over to Lexington and I noticed great patches of stinging nettles:



This ground was barren throughout the spring and summer, but now in late fall, it's teeming with nettles. When I got home I did a quick Google search and learned that stinging nettles frequently emerge before winter, and that their tender young growth dies off with the first hard frost.

So yes, later that day I was back over in the patch with my scissors, gloves, and plastic bags. I picked enough nettles to make a huge batch of nettle pesto. Oliver, a picky eater, devoured it when swirled through a plate of pasta. I did not enlighten him that the green stuff did not come from my garden.

Does the pesto sting going down? Good question! Before using nettles in a recipe, you must blanch them in boiling salted water for a couple minutes to remove the stinging hairs/chemicals on the leaves and stems. Two minutes seems to do the trick, then I give them a cold water bath to keep the leaves bright green.

I don't have a formal recipe for my stinging nettle pesto, but here's a general guideline.

Ingredients:

One plastic bag filled with stinging nettles (including stems and leaves)

1/2 cup walnuts (or pine nuts -- I avoid pine nuts since most originate in China and I avoid buying food from China)

2 cloves garlic, minced (more or less to taste)

2 ounces Parmesan cheese, crumbled

Extra virgin olive oil, about 1/2 cup

Salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Wear gloves to place the stinging nettles, stems and all, into the water. Cook for about two minutes, drain, and rinse with cold water. Now you can take your gloves off. Strip the nettle leaves off the stems; toss out stems. Squeeze water out of leaves and place them in a bowl of a food processor.

2. Add the nuts, garlic and cheese to the bowl and process. While the processor is running, slowly pour the olive oil through the feed tube and process until you have a pesto that meets your consistency requirements. (I like mine a little chunky -- you might like yours smooth and silky, which may require lots more oil.) Add salt and pepper to taste. Go forth and serve!

 

 

November, November

November is not my favorite month. After the autumn colors of October, it feels so stark and dreary to me. Even the word November sounds cold and lonely, maybe because it rhymes a bit like "woe" and "slow" and "snow." I also struggle with seasonal affective disorder thanks to my northern European genes coupled with living in the northeastern U.S., and November is when it seems to hit me the hardest.

I have high hopes for this November, though. I'm focusing on all the wonderful things about the month. First, it's my birthday month. I used to dislike celebrating my birthday, but the older I'm getting, the more I appreciate every year I have on earth. There's still so much I want to do and see. Two years ago when my doctor told me I had cancer, the first thing I thought was, "But I still have so many things I want to knit!" Silly to say, but that thought pulled me through some dark moments, and today it guides me toward a more productive life day after day, whether knitting, writing, cooking, or traveling.

It's also my son's birthday month, and he LOVES his birthday. His enthusiasm is always contagious.

November delivers some great books and movies. This year it's a new Bond film and Daniel Day-Lewis in Lincoln, and while it came out in October, I'm eager to see Ben Affleck's film Argo. As for books, I have new releases from Barbara Kingsolver and Ian McEwan to enjoy.

All the great produce is gone from the supermarkets, but November has some food gems. I'm happy to see the nuggets of candied fruit for fruitcakes, large bins of mixed nuts, peeled chestnuts, bags of fresh cranberries, and tiny orange clementines piled high in the stores. O and I can begin looking for Candy Cane Joe-Joes at Trader Joe's. And closer to Thanksgiving, one can start looking for stollen in the bake shops.

Unlike summer when it's light out until 9 p.m., I don't have to feel guilty about plopping myself down on the couch to knit an hour or so before bedtime. In the summer I spend my knitting time fretting about dozens of garden tasks I should be doing while it's still light.

November is a month for slowing down, no permission needed. Taking a nap on a summer afternoon always feels so indolent to me, but during a chilly Saturday, tucked underneath a down comforter? No one raises an eyebrow.

Any other sweet spots in November?

I leave you with this picture of O and his best friend L from last night's Halloween festivities. O went as a medieval ninja, and his friend is a scary book character whose name I can't recall. I was very impressed with L's costume, though. When O and I arrived at their house, his parents were madly tacking on strips of ripped fabric to his clothes. L had forgotten the costume he'd planned to wear at school, so this was improvised. I think they did a fantastic job! (P.S. I couldn't stop giggling at the size of O's feet. He's at that age where his feet are humungous and his body hasn't caught up.)

The Gentle Art of Knitting

When I heard/read that Jane Brocket was coming out with a knitting book, I got pretty excited. The Gentle Art of Domesticity keeps a prominent place on my livingroom bookshelf and gives me that boost I need when the house needs a little TLC.

The Gentle Art of Knitting was released in England a few months ago. I considered buying it sight unseen, but then I read some negative reader reviews of it and scratched it off my list. The complaints were that the knitting projects were too basic and not very revolutionary. (Those are my words/impressions of the reviews.) I buy very few knitting books, and only buy them for reference .

Though I'd resolved not to buy the book, I was thrilled to find a copy of it at our local library on the new titles shelf.

I spent a pleasant hour or two reading through it, sipping tea, during one of the many drenching rain storms of May. Is there anything revolutionary in the book? Why, yes, there is. As the reader reviewers noted, there aren't any patterns in here that will put Brooklyn Tweed out of business anytime soon, but what Brocket's book does brilliantly is remind knitters to focus on the process, not the product. As someone who frequently gets impatient to finish a sweater or can't wait to start some complicated cabled shawl, I appreciate this message. As soon as I put the book down, I cast on 37 stitches of red cotton and knit a simple garter stitch dishcloth. Then, I knit another, this time striping at random places with blue cotton.

It's the kind of knitting book I like to have when my handwork is giving me fits and I need to be reminded why I knit ... to create beautiful objects with care, to bond with friends (who knit), and to relax and enjoy the hours rather than wasting them idly in front of the computer or television set.

I do think I'll be getting a copy for my own bookshelf. The library's version was from England. Unlike British cookbooks, I like British knitting books to be "Americanized" with our needle sizes and dimensions in inches rather than centimeters, so I'm hoping they'll come out with a Yank version soon.

While on the domestic subject, I was futzing around the Web yesterday and found this video about how to properly fold a t-shirt, hosted by none other than Anthea Turner:

When I wasn't ironing and folding my extensive t-shirt collection, I was watching the Jubilee procession on the Thames, broadcast over CNN. My goodness, the British must be thrilled to have Piers Morgan off their island. The man DOES NOT SHUT UP. He interrupted every guest, including India Hicks, who was attempting to tell the audience what it was like to be in Princess Diana's wedding party. Morgan kept butting in with his own memories of the day, none of which were as remotely exciting as being Princess Diana's bridesmaid. I wanted to throttle him. So I ended up turning the tv off, and downed a glass of lemon barley water in honor of the Queen.

And how was your Jubilee weekend?

Acquired tastes

You know how some people get all crazy over gourmet coffee and French wines? Meet my crazy: root beer. My son and I consider ourselves root beer connoisseurs. We've tried just about every root beer on the market -- from Market Basket and Whole Foods 365 store brands, to the microbrewed and handcrafted beverages from Virgil's and Maine Root. Yesterday we were in Whole Foods buying another 4-pack of Maine Root (our favorite brew of choice -- perfect level of sweetness, no artificial/chemical taste and no, I haven't been paid to hawk it) and the cashier asked us if we liked root beer floats. Add ice cream to root beer? O and I looked at each other in horror. Hell no! We want our brew 1. icy cold* 2. straight up.

When we were out in the car with our booty of rooty, I mentioned that our relatives in Germany thought root beer tasted gross. O was shocked.

"How can they think that?" he asked.

"It's something of an acquired taste," I said. And then I had to explain what an acquired taste was, that the first time you taste some foods, they're disgusting, but if you keep tasting it over and over again, your tongue/brain starts to like the food. At this point, O may have used my cooking as an illustrative example. Brat.

I told him I can't think of a time I didn't like root beer; there was never a learning curve. We used to visit A&W Root Beer stands when I was a kid, and it was always a treat to eat there. I'm sure I always had a root beer with my hot dog or french fries. O says he can't remember when he didn't like root beer either. And as his mom, I concur because I seem to remember giving him some when he was three or four and he didn't spit it in my face.

Sometimes I let a mouthful of root beer wash across my tongue and there's part of my brain that understands why people wouldn't like its flavor; there's a medicinal undercurrent that can be disquieting to an unsuspecting palate.

So I've been thinking of all the all the flavors/foods we label as "an acquired taste." Certainly the British Isles have their fair share. On top of the list is Marmite (in Australia, Vegemite). When I was a kid I had a pen pal who sent me a couple sealed packets of this yeast spread and instructed me to spread it across toast before enjoying. My mother did the honors of toasting and spreading, then insisted on taking the first bite. I remember that she made this horrible face and spit it out, then forbade my brother and me from indulging, convinced it was poison, or at least a product one would use for fertilizing African violets.

Licorice is another acquired taste that's associated with Britain, but for me, it's one of the tastes of Scandinavia. My maternal grandfather, whose parents were from Norway and Denmark, loved licorice. He always carried a tin in his pocket filled with something called "liquorice pastilles" and I loved them from the get-go, no flavor acclimatization problems for me. Licorice tasted dark, sweet and earthy; even today, it touches that sweet spot on my palate that few other flavors can (wild mushrooms, perfectly ripe avocado). Salted licorice is another variation on this acquired taste, but sadly the application of salt doesn't work for me. I want my licorice straight up, thank you.

There are dishes like poutine (Canada), haggis (Scotland), and black pudding (northern England) one could call acquired tastes, but I put these in the loved-because-they're-national-dishes category. So I put it to you -- what has been an acquired taste for you? Do you like a flavor most people have a hard time understanding?

Mmm, just writing about root beer has me jones-ing for an icy cold one ... care to join me?

 

*Warm root beer = like drinking tepid groundwater from a Superfund site

End of the season

Last night in the States was the tw0-hour Christmas finale of Downton Abbey's second season. What did you think? I'm going to watch it again today on PBS.com since I missed chunks of it here and there; my husband decided to fix our dishwasher just as the program came on, which meant many interruptions. Harrumph!

I enjoyed the scenes with Daisy last night, esp. her role in the kitchen. (I won't say anymore in case you haven't seen it.) Then today I found this interesting piece on NPRs site about Downton Abbey's sumptuous food scenes and how they don't correspond with our perceptions of British food as being lumpy, tasteless, and bland.

I'll leave you with this to enjoy with your lunchtime soup. The only scene that's missing is the ending scene in last night's finale. :-)

What I've been reading (and a giveaway)

My right hand has been giving me some trouble (too much knitting?), so I've been catching up on my reading while giving my poor hands a break.



First up is Howards End is on the Landing by Susan Hill, a book I've had on my Goodreads list for a long while. If you're the type of person who walks into a friend's home and studies her bookshelf for clues about who she really is, you'll like this book. Hill, the author of the The Woman in Black (yes, the scary film starring Daniel Radcliffe is based upon it), decided to spend a year reacquainting herself with her personal book collection rather than shopping for new books. Hill is a lovely, evocative writer; my only quibble --  keeping in mind that I haven't yet finished the book -- is that it reads more like a book of essays than a flowing narrative, which I'd prefer. On the other hand, since I find myself dipping into the book in the few short minutes I have reading in bed, I can get through a chapter and know that when I pick up the book again, I won't have to backtrack to pick up. I've found myself making mental notes of books I'd like to read or re-read: Great Expectations, Enid Blyton's children's books, and yes, The Woman in Black since I don't like watching ghost stories on film (too scary!).

I've written here about my enjoyment of Jane Brocket's The Gentle Art of Domesticity. It's a book where I like looking the pictures more than reading the text: Brocket has a habit of dropping reference to her advanced degrees that I find a little offputting. I got to the point where I said to the book, "I get it! You're educated! Give it a break!" She reminds me of a friend who cannot get through a conversation without mention of her Ivy League degree.



But I digress. So if you're like me and like Brocket's book sans copy or you hated Brocket's book, you might like the book I picked up last week called Homemade: 101 Beautiful and Useful Craft Projects You Can Make at Home by Ros Badger and (the late) Elspeth Thompson. The book is set up by seasons, which I love, and most of the projects can be completed with found objects around the house. There are recipes (elderflower cordial, spicy chutney, pumpkin soup), as well as simple knitting projects and even household fix-its, like instructions on how to restore garden furniture, create planters, and build a pebble garden. But what I really love about this book is that none of the projects have that "cutesy" look I detest in so many modern-day craft books. Everything looks stylish, but organic if that makes sense. It's the kind of book I can flip through to give me inspiration on decorating my home on a tight budget. For example, we have some dreadfully ugly floor registers. My hope was to replace them with some brass registers but they're prohibitively expensive. While glancing through Homemade, I got the idea to clean them and give them a good coating of spray paint. I was going to do them in an antiqued brass, but decided to paint them glossy black to match the thresholds. I just finished the project this a.m., and while the registers don't look as pretty as brass ones would, they're 1000% better looking with a coat of paint.

Last week the publisher of The Real Elizabeth by journalist Andrew Marr sent me a couple review copies. I've been itching to read this biography as I've heard that the Queen gave many of her staff and intimates permission to talk to Marr as he researched the book. I've also read excerpts on the web, which piqued my interest in Elizabeth's 60-year-reign as Britain's monarch. Last week marked the beginning of her jubilee year so in celebration, I'm giving my other copy of The Real Elizabeth away to one lucky Hail Britannia reader. All you have to do is tell me, in the comments below, what you admire about the Queen ... even if it's just her corgis. I'm sorry but with this giveaway, I can only ship to addresses in the U.S. or Canada. The giveaway closes on Friday, February 17, 2012 at 5:00 p.m. ET, and I'll draw a name at random early next week. Good luck ... and thanks for entering!