The big '6-1' milestone is thankfully in the rearview mirror. I don't feel much different.
Maybe it's just the number, but I've twice caught myself thinking about Bob Dylan's "Highway 61." You know, "God said to Abraham, kill me a son....Well, Abe says, 'Where you want this killin' done?' God says, 'Out on Highway 61.'"
When I visited my brother in Louisiana, he took me up the Natchez Trace via Highway 61 from his home in Monterey, which was at that time across the river from Natchez. I got a photo of Mammy's Cupboard at 555 Highway 61, a restaurant in a 28-foot tall black woman's skirt.
I'd heard one of the verses to Bob Dylan's "Highway 61" a number of times over the years, but it wasn't until I went down there that I understood it:
"Now the fifth daughter on the twelfth night told the first father that things weren't right.
'My complexion, she said, is much too white.'
He said, 'Come here and step into the light.' He says, 'Hmm you're right.
'Let me tell the second mother this has been done.'
Aw, but the second mother was with the seventh son and they were both out on Highway 61."
Okay, maybe I don't understand it all, but I have an inkling.
While the old Southern ways are mostly a thing of the past, all you have to do is scratch the surface and they are there. Some of the antebellum mansions offer a revisionist version of the slave quarters tour. Others don't.
One legacy of the old South is its cuisine. I don't think there are that many bad Southern cooks (okay, maybe Paula Deen on a bad butter day), male or female.
I'm getting our light Sunday supper ready soon, nothing more than maybe a salad and some strawberry shortcake.
I'm doing it the old Southern way, piling the strawberries (sweetened with Splenda/erythritol) on cut leftover low-fat biscuits. I'll give them just under 30 seconds in the microwave, put the macerated berries on top, and crown it all with some (low-fat, no sugar) vanilla Breyer's ice cream.
Hey, it will be pretty damn good.
So was lunch. Mom wanted to take me out for my (post)birthday, but as I told her, there's nowhere around here that I'd rather eat. Before the Moira Smily and VOCO concert, we went to Skamania Lodge's River Rock Room, and I had an Asian seafood appetizer plate that was tasty. Mom had a chicken wrap.
My sis and her husband treated me to birthday lunch at Big River Grill, and I had grilled salmon with a salad and their tomato basil dressing, which was also excellent. I splurged, and had citrus cheesecake for the (birthday cake) dessert, scraping off the whipped cream and leaving most of the crust.
Having been to two out of three of the best restaurants in the area in two days, I opted instead for a trip to the store for Sunday dinner makings. I already had some asparagus, scallions and mushrooms. I bought two chicken breasts, strawberries, wine and other groceries. (Including a frozen two-pound bag of shrimp in their jackets, on sale for $7.99, as I figure the Gulf oil spill will soon make them a thing of the past.) Crossing to the street after buying my Sunday New York Times at Lesley's Books, I saw a red car cruise by --- my sis and her husband, on their way out of town after a cruise up Wind River and a night at Bonneville Hot Springs. I invited them to lunch, but they were on their way to meet his parents at Corbett at 1 p.m.
Hurrying home, I turned the oven to 425 degrees and threw the two chicken breasts on foil on a sheet pan, sprinkling them with salt, fresh pepper, garlic, a little wine, fresh thyme and chive sprigs. I also split the skinny loaf of sourdough french bread I'd just bought and chopped two big cloves of garlic, a little Hungarian paprika and fake butter (Smart Squeeze), wrapping the bread in foil and throwing it on the other oven rack. I turned up the heat on one burner with salted water for pasta, (Ronzoni Smart Taste supposedly more healthful spaghetti), then fired up the burner my brother-in-law fixed yesterday (my best birthday present, as I told him, along with the now non-dribbling toilet he tinkered with).
I added a little canola to a non-stick skillet, and cut up two more cloves of garlic, a dozen or so asparagus spears, half a red sweet pepper, three mushrooms, a scallion, and a handful of fresh herbs from our containers and beds --- two kinds of thyme, three kinds of basil, some marjoram, oregano, chives and a touch of sage. I cut the herbs with scissors directly into the sauteeing vegetables, after splashing a little wine in that pan, too.
The pasta was still al dente and it was 25 minutes after 12 when I added small amounts of fat-free half and half, a little evaporated milk, some no-fat cream cheese and low-fat sour cream to the pan with the pasta and vegetables, tossing it all.
It was ready to plate when Mom stepped in the door at 12:35. I don't think we could have done better at any local restaurant, and it was all low fat.
Besides, I was tired of going out. However, I learned that Moira Smiley and VOCO are at the Alberta Street Public House in Portland tonight, and I am mightily tempted....
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Rising to the occasion...
This week my calendar rolls over to 61. That's an achievement of sorts --- I have survived this long, in spite of myself.
I have been tempted to do something dramatic. I may cut my hair. It's now almost totally white and it's down to my waist. I have been wearing it in a hair appliance-enclosed bun for work much of the time, or in a pony tail. Now that summer is (maybe) arriving, it would be less of an encumbrance short. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I see a school marm, a librarian or a nun. William once told me he had a dream that I became a nun. It's almost come true.
At a company Christmas party for employees of the tiny newspaper chain we belong to, I blurted out "news nun" as a description, something that just came to me instantly, but it fits.
I am determined I will not spend my pre-retirement years mired in a rut, especially difficult when living with an aging mother.
One small, swift jolt out of the rut: I will be going to Alaska for a week at the end of July. I already have my plane ticket and have paid for the bus ride to the end of the road in Denali. I hope to get some wildlife and scenery pictures to add to my Alaska DVD.
My sister will be coming on the bus trip. We will stay the two nights somewhere at the entrance to the park, then drive back to her home in Eagle River. I may try to drive down the Kenai for a couple of days while I am there. Perhaps I'll stop by and see Glenn at his restaurant, who liked the couple of recipes I gave him and said he will use them. I worked a season at the end of the road in Denali, at the Kantishna Roadhouse as the baker.
Here is my recipe for Kantishna Sourdough Bread:
This recipe is huge --- I used a floor Hobart and it made 8 large French-style loaves. A good starter is needed. I originally used “Gold Rush” brand, which supposedly dated from that era and was available in yellow packets in Anchorage. However, any good sourdough starter will work. Some are slower than others. I have made this bread without adding supplemental yeast --- it just takes longer to rise, at least 4-5 hours as opposed to 1-1/2 hours or so, depending on the temperature, etc.
I fed my starter every time I baked. It needs to be fed at least once a week; I used my starter every night and it didn't seem to suffer. Double the volume by adding flour, water and a teaspoon or so of sugar for a quart or so of starter (I kept mine in the walk-in in a large heavy earthenware bread bowl covered with plastic wrap, admittedly messy but it worked.) It needs to be the consistency of heavy pancake batter. Put half the replenished starter back in the refrigerator after letting it sit out until it bubbles.
I used a floor Hobart for this, but any large, sturdy machine with a dough hook will work. You can quarter the recipe and do it by hand in a large ceramic bowl, which is what I do now, except I don't measure.
In a large mixer with dough hook, add 6 cups lukewarm water (between 95-105 degrees) to 4 cups of starter, 4 tsp. yeast, 6 cups unbleached bread flour (or add 5 cups regular unbleached flour plus 1 cup gluten flour), 8 tsp. sugar and 8 tsp. salt. Beat together until smooth. Let rest a minute, then add 6 more cups of flour (I used 4 cups unbleached and 2 cups of a special very light rye flour for a French feel and taste) while beating vigorously on high with the dough hook until you see the gluten developing. Add about 4 more cups of flour to form a dough that starts to pull away from the edge of the mixer as the dough hook works. This could take five minutes or more. Let rise 60 to 90 minutes until spongy, then gradually add up to 4 more cups flour until you have stiffer dough that forms a good ball that pulls away from the sides on every stroke and starts climbing up the hook. Grease a large stainless steel bowl (only thing big enough), or a nice ceramic bowl if it's a smaller batch, and turn the dough into it. Let it rise covered with a flour sack kitchen towel for 45 minute to an hour. Turn it onto a lightly floured board and knead. Make a rectangle of dough. Let it rest. Using a dough knife/ulu, cut into lengths and form into loaves. Spray long sheet pans or trench bread pans and sprinkle with coarse yellow corn meal, then place the dough lengths on the pans with room to rise, handling gently. Brush lightly with water and make slits at regular intervals on top of the loaves (I use scissors but a very sharp serrated knife or a single-edge razor blade also work.) Let rise until almost double. Bake in a preheated oven at 425 - 450 degrees Fahrenheit on a rack above a large shallow pan of water in the bottom of the oven. Or use a clean spray bottle filled with water and periodically spray inside the oven. (Don't do this in an oven with an exposed glass light bulb. Yes, I learned the hard way.) When the loaves are nicely browned and sound hollow when tapped, they're done. Cool on racks.
Variations: Before baking, sprinkle with sesame or poppy seeds after brushing with water.
You can substitute 8 cups of whole wheat flour for part of the flour; add one-half cup honey.
For rye bread, use half dark rye flour plus one cup gluten flour if it’s not a high protein unbleached bread flour, and add 1 cup dark unsulphured molasses and 1/2 cup caraway seeds. Bake a little longer in a little slower oven for rye or whole wheat.
I have been tempted to do something dramatic. I may cut my hair. It's now almost totally white and it's down to my waist. I have been wearing it in a hair appliance-enclosed bun for work much of the time, or in a pony tail. Now that summer is (maybe) arriving, it would be less of an encumbrance short. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I see a school marm, a librarian or a nun. William once told me he had a dream that I became a nun. It's almost come true.
At a company Christmas party for employees of the tiny newspaper chain we belong to, I blurted out "news nun" as a description, something that just came to me instantly, but it fits.
I am determined I will not spend my pre-retirement years mired in a rut, especially difficult when living with an aging mother.
One small, swift jolt out of the rut: I will be going to Alaska for a week at the end of July. I already have my plane ticket and have paid for the bus ride to the end of the road in Denali. I hope to get some wildlife and scenery pictures to add to my Alaska DVD.
My sister will be coming on the bus trip. We will stay the two nights somewhere at the entrance to the park, then drive back to her home in Eagle River. I may try to drive down the Kenai for a couple of days while I am there. Perhaps I'll stop by and see Glenn at his restaurant, who liked the couple of recipes I gave him and said he will use them. I worked a season at the end of the road in Denali, at the Kantishna Roadhouse as the baker.
Here is my recipe for Kantishna Sourdough Bread:
This recipe is huge --- I used a floor Hobart and it made 8 large French-style loaves. A good starter is needed. I originally used “Gold Rush” brand, which supposedly dated from that era and was available in yellow packets in Anchorage. However, any good sourdough starter will work. Some are slower than others. I have made this bread without adding supplemental yeast --- it just takes longer to rise, at least 4-5 hours as opposed to 1-1/2 hours or so, depending on the temperature, etc.
I fed my starter every time I baked. It needs to be fed at least once a week; I used my starter every night and it didn't seem to suffer. Double the volume by adding flour, water and a teaspoon or so of sugar for a quart or so of starter (I kept mine in the walk-in in a large heavy earthenware bread bowl covered with plastic wrap, admittedly messy but it worked.) It needs to be the consistency of heavy pancake batter. Put half the replenished starter back in the refrigerator after letting it sit out until it bubbles.
I used a floor Hobart for this, but any large, sturdy machine with a dough hook will work. You can quarter the recipe and do it by hand in a large ceramic bowl, which is what I do now, except I don't measure.
In a large mixer with dough hook, add 6 cups lukewarm water (between 95-105 degrees) to 4 cups of starter, 4 tsp. yeast, 6 cups unbleached bread flour (or add 5 cups regular unbleached flour plus 1 cup gluten flour), 8 tsp. sugar and 8 tsp. salt. Beat together until smooth. Let rest a minute, then add 6 more cups of flour (I used 4 cups unbleached and 2 cups of a special very light rye flour for a French feel and taste) while beating vigorously on high with the dough hook until you see the gluten developing. Add about 4 more cups of flour to form a dough that starts to pull away from the edge of the mixer as the dough hook works. This could take five minutes or more. Let rise 60 to 90 minutes until spongy, then gradually add up to 4 more cups flour until you have stiffer dough that forms a good ball that pulls away from the sides on every stroke and starts climbing up the hook. Grease a large stainless steel bowl (only thing big enough), or a nice ceramic bowl if it's a smaller batch, and turn the dough into it. Let it rise covered with a flour sack kitchen towel for 45 minute to an hour. Turn it onto a lightly floured board and knead. Make a rectangle of dough. Let it rest. Using a dough knife/ulu, cut into lengths and form into loaves. Spray long sheet pans or trench bread pans and sprinkle with coarse yellow corn meal, then place the dough lengths on the pans with room to rise, handling gently. Brush lightly with water and make slits at regular intervals on top of the loaves (I use scissors but a very sharp serrated knife or a single-edge razor blade also work.) Let rise until almost double. Bake in a preheated oven at 425 - 450 degrees Fahrenheit on a rack above a large shallow pan of water in the bottom of the oven. Or use a clean spray bottle filled with water and periodically spray inside the oven. (Don't do this in an oven with an exposed glass light bulb. Yes, I learned the hard way.) When the loaves are nicely browned and sound hollow when tapped, they're done. Cool on racks.
Variations: Before baking, sprinkle with sesame or poppy seeds after brushing with water.
You can substitute 8 cups of whole wheat flour for part of the flour; add one-half cup honey.
For rye bread, use half dark rye flour plus one cup gluten flour if it’s not a high protein unbleached bread flour, and add 1 cup dark unsulphured molasses and 1/2 cup caraway seeds. Bake a little longer in a little slower oven for rye or whole wheat.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Dream on...
I think I'll be contacting the U.S. Patent Office about the dream I had last night. It was quite detailed. I think I could do some drawings of the apparatus, which would offer a unique boon to humanity. I'm talking about a nursing support system that A) would give the baby the illusion of nursing at the breast, and B) allow non-milk producing moms and dads to offer nourishment in an authentic manner. In my dream, it was a man wearing it to feed an adopted baby.
There was a silicone pseudo-nipple fitted over the (man)breast, with a small line to the center that produced milk when sucked. The milk came from a flexible receptacle, something akin to those baby bottle liners with some structural support, strapped around the chest or waist with Velcro.
Who knows what prompted that dream? I had no glass of milk before going to bed, and I've never had a child, so it's not like I was drawing on that experience as inspiration.
It was extraordinarily vivid because the dream occurred right before I woke up at 5:30 a.m. Earlier in the night, I had dreamed my nephew was sternly kicked out of my place of work for consuming sunflower seeds and taking them out of the shell. (That one is not worthy of mention to the Patent Office, unless I can come up with a no-mess sunflower seed sheller.)
There was a silicone pseudo-nipple fitted over the (man)breast, with a small line to the center that produced milk when sucked. The milk came from a flexible receptacle, something akin to those baby bottle liners with some structural support, strapped around the chest or waist with Velcro.
Who knows what prompted that dream? I had no glass of milk before going to bed, and I've never had a child, so it's not like I was drawing on that experience as inspiration.
It was extraordinarily vivid because the dream occurred right before I woke up at 5:30 a.m. Earlier in the night, I had dreamed my nephew was sternly kicked out of my place of work for consuming sunflower seeds and taking them out of the shell. (That one is not worthy of mention to the Patent Office, unless I can come up with a no-mess sunflower seed sheller.)
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Pause that refreshes
taken at Trout Lake Arts Fest
