Cranberry rolls and a chocolate syrup catastrophe

Our neighbors to the east have been good to us, so we decided a homemade gift was in order. I wanted to make a pan of rolls to accompany a card. Out of the refrigerator and onto the counter went my two containers of sourdough, one begun a couple of years ago from French brioche yeast and a batch of Alaskan starter from an envelope that was found in the back of the cupboard, dated 1996. It's been thriving more than a year now. I plugged in the KitchenAid, something I am using more often these days because my arthritic hands can't do as much hand mixing and kneading. Half of the starter from each jar was spooned into the mixer, and after the starters were fed and returned to the fridge, I added a 1 tsp. of yeast slurry and additional lukewarm water to the mixer with a bit of honey and some flour, including unbleached and whole wheat pastry flours, plus a dash of salt, making it about the consistency of thick pancake batter. After a thorough mixing, I covered it with a cotton dishtowel and let it grow a couple of hours. Then I added more flour, (two-thirds unbleached, one-third spelt), incorporating about one-third cup of gluten flour into the dough, which got a little more water but was deemed ready for another rise when it began climbing the dough hook, not quite a dough ball. An hour later, it had risen well. I turned on the mixer and was adding a bit more whole wheat pastry flour when kitchen gremlins went into action. A bottle of Walden Farms sugar-free chocolate syrup jumped from the shelf and managed to shatter in front of the stove, liberally distributing glass and syrup all over the floor while the mixer ran. The dough got a bit over-mixed as I ran for the broom and dustpan. Turning off the mixer and covering the dough once again, I had no option but to fill a mop bucket and go to work. Thirty minutes later, the syrup was gone and the floor was ready for holiday guests. Phew. Too tired to plunge back into roll-making, I instead turned my attention to what I was going to do with the dough. I put about a cup of almonds in the toaster oven on low for about 20 minutes while the floor dried, then dumped them into the food processor with some orange-flavored dried cranberries from Trader Joe's and a few chopped dried apricots. After a rough chop, I added cinnamon, freshly grated nutmeg and coconut sugar and gave them a whirl. I patted half the dough into a rectangle, and dotted it with room temperature butter covered with the fruit-nut mixture. Rolling it up, I used a serrated knife to cut into rounds, making cinnamon rolls with the addition of another sprinkle of Saigon cinnamon. The rolls were placed to rise two of those toss-away aluminum cake pans. After they doubled in size, they went into a 350-degree pre-heated oven. After they browned some, I pulled them out and cooled them on racks while I mixed up a little butter with sugar-free maple syrup and some confectioner's sugar (a real indulgence). After drizzling the icing over the rolls, a still-warm pan was delivered to the neighbors. Half the almond-cranberry-apricot mixture remained, and I quickly mixed it into an oatmeal cookie dough with more coconut sugar and the last of the real butter, about 1/4 of a stick. The cookies went into the oven with a walnut half topping each one. The result: Cookies to give as presents for my nephews, and two pans of rolls for us as well as the pan that went to the neighbors. The orange-flavored dried cranberry mixture was perfect in each batch, adding a piquant tang that cut the potential for the rolls being overly sweet. The last pan of rolls, sans icing, rests in the freezer. I'm still trying to decide if I'll buy another bottle of chocolate syrup.

That first bite...

The foraging deer were late this year discovering my container garden. The first evidence they found my treasure trove was a partially ravaged Sungold cherry tomato plant, and a pruned section of a truly epic Jack-in-the-Beanstalk-sized Blue Lake pole bean, initially trained to a trellis then rappelling up the TV cable wire. The deer have been back several times to selectively sample cherry tomato fronds, leaf lettuce, rainbow chard, and a little Thai basil. They have once again signaled their fondness for Cherokee Purple heirloom tomatoes as opposed to more mundane Romas or Early Girls. This year, I have also been trying Indigo Rose, a deep purple tomato the size of a Ping-Pong ball. The deer are a little ambivalent about them, as am I. Pretty, but 'meh.' Occasionally, Mom says she hears them in the night under her window. I have a window fan on low and keep the radio on in my bedroom, so I haven't heard their depredations. This morning I made a disconcerting discovery that also caused eruptions of chortling at intervals. It would be worth the cost of a night vision camera to capture the scene: A deer browsing the salad bar, decimating the lower third of my Jack-in-the bean plant, taking tomato nibbles, then trying the top of a hot pepper plant. While the missing foliage doesn't pack a punch, I know that the missing pepper certainly did. I had been keeping an eye on that three-inch pepper, variety unknown, thinking to pick it in the next day or so. It was on one of four pepper plants grown from plain-wrapper seed packets. The other three have different shapes; this may have been a jalapeno. All are in a container with a truly prolific Thai bird pepper plant I bought as a start. I certainly haven't noticed any missing foliage or fruit on it. Those bird peppers are incendiary. I picked a cup full of red ones this week and dumped them into a mixture of vinegars plus salt and a couple of sprigs of Thai basil. I brought them to a boil, then put them in a pint jar. The lid pinged, so I presume they are sealed, but to be on the safe side, I am keeping the jar in the fridge. There was a teaspoon of vinegar that didn't fit in the jar so I tried a tiny sip from a teaspoon. It about blew my head off and led to coughing spasms. I am forewarned. Although I chop raw bird peppers into my stir-fries and miso/tofu soups, I haven't pulled a pickled pepper out of the jar yet. I took another look this morning at my raided garden, and feel a bit justified in having no remorse over their peppery surprise. I have an inkling the deer may have passed the word --- "Stay away from that container with those things that make you cry."

The Beaded Huckleberry Basket

The scene: Newark Airport, changing planes after the 2008 Inauguration, walking around the boarding area of the terminal, which was packed, trying to find something to drink. The loudspeaker crackled to life to announce my cross-country flight was boarding when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a handsome Northwest Indian man with his briefcase balanced atop a garbage can, talking to two people, likely members of a Plains tribe. What had my eyeball glued to the briefcase were its contents --- it was filled with really fine beadwork.

I wandered over and asked, "Are any of these for sale?" I had already spotted a singular piece, a beaded replica of a Klickitat basket brimming with huckleberries, with three paddlers in a Chinookan canoe worked into the front of the basket. It was exquisitely made, with smoke-tanned elk hide as its base and three-dimensional huckleberries in the basket, which has Klickitat 'ears' and the obligatory one-bead mistake.

I asked if he was from the Columbia Gorge, where those baskets originated --- he said he was a member of the Nez Perce, but his wife is Warm Springs. I was already reaching for cash while watching the boarding line recede down the corridor and onto my plane. I indicated the one I wanted; he said $40. I handed him my last two twenties and a business card and dashed for the plane. My heart was pounding, full of gratitude for this chance encounter. It is now my favorite beaded piece, eclipsing the silvery blue fish motif earrings I once bought at a powwow.

I sewed a small loop on the back so it can also work as a pendant. Mary Schlick, whose book on imbricated basket-making is a definitive work on the subject, stopped during an event to admire it.

Now, I wish I knew who made it. I have searched the web but found only two other beaded baskets, and they were not like mine.

There were many tribal members at the Inauguration; they hosted their own ball. While walking to the Dirksen Building in D.C. the day before the Inauguration, I talked to two women from a northern Alaskan village walking down the street wearing beaded anoraks and sealskin mukluks. Later, I emailed Warm Springs tribal headquarters, attaching a photo of the piece and asking if anyone knew of its maker, but he or she is still a mystery.

"Pure Food" and "Can't Fail" Cookbooks

I recently came across a forgotten family heirloom, the "Pure Food Cook Book," published in 1923 by the Women's Progressive Farmers' Association of the State of Missouri. It originally belonged to my Great-Aunt Lora. It was then passed down to my grandmother, my mother, and now me. There are a number of handwritten recipes interspersed among the pages, including recipes for Sliced Peach Pie and Bread and Butter Pickles, most in Great-Aunt Lora's handwriting. My favorite was inserted between pages, a recipe in my grandmother's handwriting for "Pigs in Blanket," not the frankfurter version, but a stuffed cabbage recipe. The best part: the recipe is on the back of a deposit slip for the World War I Auxiliary #157 account at Peoples Bank. In addition to recipes for Loganberry Lemonade, Virginia Chow Chow and Peach Pickles, this book has a recipe in Great-Aunt Lora's handwriting for Green Tomato Preserves. The last page is "How to Cook Husbands," which includes this gem: "Tie him in the kettle by a strong silken cord, called comfort; duty is apt to be weak. Husbands are apt to fly out of the kettle and be burned and crusty on the edge, since, like crabs and lobsters, you have to cook them while alive. Make a clear, steady fire out of love, neatness and cheerfulness. Set your husband as near this as seems to agree with him. If he sputters and fizzes, do not be anxious. Some husbands do this until they are quite done. Add a little sugar in the form of what confectioners call kisses, but no vinegar or pepper on any account..." Another on my shelf is the "Can't Fail Cook Book," by Isabelle Clark Swezy, published by Vitucci Virgin Olive Oil. The year is nowhere in evidence, but it's definitely close to 100 years old. At one point I gave it to my brother when he nearly starved while trying to make it on his own the first time. In the margins are hints for places to shop, as well as a couple of recipes in my newly learned, still awkward calligraphy. In addition to recipes for Canellon of Beef and Rice and Salmon Turbot, it gives directions for furniture and floor polish made with turpentine, vinegar, and you guessed it ---- 1 cup of Vitucci Virgin Olive Oil. The most helpful book on the shelf is the "Farm Journal Cookbook," a mainstay when I was growing up. The earlier editions are best if you can find them, as they include farmstead essential information as well as tried and true recipes. "Stocking Up" is another good one written with the self-sufficient kitchen in mind. Stepping away from the bookshelf, some family gems are stashed away in the recipe card boxes, many well-worn and marked with stains. My sister had asked us to entrust her with our favorites, including those in our grandmothers' handwriting, and took the time and trouble to scan them in. The result was a CD that was her holiday gift to everyone, still quite treasured.

Pasta salad and sweet harmony

This just in: Pasta salad is a summer thing, doesn't heat up the oven, and stays edible for days in the fridge. And it doesn't have to be blah. Cook 3/4 package whole grain or brown rice rotini al dente; drain. While still hot, add 1 big handful of snow peas or sugar pod peas, deveined and coarsely chopped. (Mine were blossoming and producing enough for a batch until the hot weather hit.) Add half a package of frozen stir fry vegetables with asparagus, 2 chopped scallions, and 2/3 cup cooked edamame (shelled). Pour over the salad 1/2 bottle good prepared Asian ginger/sesame dressing (an exception to bad bottled dressings), OR use 1/3 cup rice wine vinegar, 1 clove garlic, 1 T. soy sauce, 1 T. toasted sesame oil, 2 T. agave syrup, 1 T. grated ginger, 3 large chiffonaded Thai or regular basil leaves, salt, pepper to taste. (Cilantro is optional, as is sprinkling with red chili flakes). Chill. Set out 15 minutes before serving. Not mehhh. Something else refreshing: Four young people who have mastered the art of percussion with soft drink cups, plus they sing in perfect harmony. It will cost you $1.29, but it's worth every penny. Go to https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/cups-when-im-gone-single/id670084540 to download. "Cups (When I'm Gone)" is by Sam Tsui, Kina Grannis, Alex G and Kurt Schneider. The latter is the apparent mastermind of this iTunes video, apparently filmed in a park at a card table, with some really good microphones. A link on Facebook from my sister-in-law's sister sent me to this sweet video, which has restored my faith in the power of music, coordination, harmony and serendipity.

Rearview mirror...

"What a Difference a Day Makes" is an old standard with blah lyrics, but Dinah Washington turned up the heat on that old tune, taking it from lukewarm to a scorcher. I could now sing "What a Difference Some Months Make" and really wail. It's nearly July, and life isn't the blues, it's humming a different song. I've been walking three or four times a week, gradually increasing the distance when weather allows. Last week, I finally walked more than two miles, with the other two walks last week averaging more than one and a half miles, a distance arrived at by dividing the number of steps on my dollar store pedometer by my average stride (2,400 per mile). I'm off the Metformin completely, and my fasting blood sugar is averaging between 85 and 100. However, I'm still taking blood thinners and a statin. I don't climb on a scale except at the doctor's office, but I've lost at least 25-30 pounds. It's mostly due to eating a lot of vegetables, whole grains and fruits, as well as eschewing all alcohol. When I look in the mirror, a thinner face looks back, but I still have quite a lot of weight to drop. On one of my walks last week, a six-year-old kid I've encountered several times tagged along as I walked, listening my headphones, insisting, "You're fat. You're fat." Yesterday he tried to get my attention from across the street, but I carefully ignored him while concentrating on enjoying my soundtrack. Several years ago, I got a $35 Apacer .mp3 player, but didn't keep it charged. I recently resuscitated it, taking all the photos out of memory and cramming it with music, everything from Jobim and Miles to Don Pullen and Stevie Ray Vaughn. It also has a few of my percussive home studio pieces; I find they are the perfect tempo to pick up the pace. Now my walks are also an excuse to indulge in a little musical solitude. Meanwhile, I have cut back on watching the Food Network and Cooking Channel. I do not delve as frequently into Julia Child DVDs, Saveur and other foodie mags. It's simply too painful, although my email box is still full of recipes and other food porn. My mainstays have been Asian-derived ingredients and salads. I did indulge a bit too much in gai lan, which threw my blood thinner medication levels out of whack. How could I know that gai lan has five times as much vitamin K as broccoli? I've now backed off the spinach and bok choy, too. My cousin has shed 50 pounds by completely avoiding carbs. I haven't gone that far. I'm unable to completely give up brown rice, whole grain breads and the occasional rice noodle. But I do feel better. If my arteries, knees and feet will just hold up, I might make it to 70, or beyond.

Twin Obsessions: Nicoise and Pesto

I have been a fan of a good nicoise since the first encounter many years ago in France, but it's not something I have attempted at home more than once or twice. Pesto is another of my Mediterranean obsessions. This year, I already have basil thanks to a huge plant from Trader Giovanni and some unseasonably warm weather. Ergo: the Primo Pesto Plate. First make a pesto: Not having pine nuts but blessed with a surfeit of almonds in the freezer, I blanched 1/2 cup almonds briefly in salted water, since they still had on their skins, then cooled them and removed the skins. That was kind of fun, as they squirt out like grapes. Next I toasted them, shaking them frequently in a heavy dry skillet (I was careful to add only a trace of color). I added the almonds to the food processor with a big handful of fresh basil leaves; 2 sprigs of fresh oregano stripped off the stems; 2 T. olive oil, 3 garlic cloves; juice of half a lemon and 1 tsp. balsamic vinegar; 1/4 pound feta, crumbled; 1/4 cup chopped or grated parmesan, salt and pepper. I processed the mixture, adding a little water until the consistency was like a thick salad dressing, not a paste. I already had a piece of baked salmon in the refrigerator (or you could steam an uncooked piece of fish with the vegetables. If I hadn't had the cooked salmon, I could have used a can of solid albacore tuna, drained). Next, I steamed two red potatoes, cut into fours; four spears asparagus; and half a pound of fresh green beans over salted water. I started with the potatoes, then added the green beans and asparagus, cooking them until the potatoes were fork tender. If your steamer is small and you're also cooking the fish, you could briefly cook the green beans in a little salted water in a saucepan, shocking them in cold water to stop the cooking. The vegetables cooled to nearly room temperature. Meanwhile, I chopped two scallions, and washed and halved six cherry tomatoes. To assemble the meal, I arranged the potatoes, green beans, asparagus and fish pieces on each plate, placing cherry tomatoes around the edges, and scattering scallions on top. Then I placed a generous serving (about 1/4 cup) of the pesto in a small container next to each plate, to drop spoonfuls of pesto over the vegetables and fish to taste. Mom is not a big pesto fan, so I had more pesto readily at hand. The extra pesto freezes well. Walnuts, even pine nuts as per the original recipe might be substituted for the blanched almonds Other options: Low carb people could steam half a head of cauliflower, broken into florets, to replace the potatoes. Kalamata olives would be tasty additions arranged around the plate with the tomatoes. Or I could have eliminated the asparagus and added steamed or marinated artichoke hearts. Now I am eating more Mediterranean than ever by combining twin cravings.

Closet-Pole-Falling-Down Dinner

Sunday dinner was easy, which was a necessity while undertaking reconstruction of Mom's closet for the second time, a process involving sweat, swear words, jerry-rigging, iffy sheetrock screws and the available tools. Meanwhile, there are piles of her clothing on the bed, triage for Goodwill or the seniors' thrift store. Mom heard what she thought was a limb crashing down on the back roof. I promptly investigated and found nothing amiss. It wasn't until later when Mom opened her closet to discover heaps of clothing on the floor amid the shelves and collapsed pole that we found the source of the crash. Two screws were broken off in the wall, and metal was bent. A trip to Home Depot was needed to try to approximate the fix that came into my head, an ugly but functional support involving PVC pipe, a base and pipe fittings to cradle the pole on its precarious screws, a stalagmite solution to a stalagtite problem. As I worked on the porch next to the hanging fuschia basket Mom couldn't resist at Home Depot, I dodged occasional raindrops and went through the charged battery for the Dremel trying to saw through PVC pipe. Waiting for it to charge again, I started dinner and measured the closet pole and supports for the third time. I liberated a frozen Alaskan wild salmon fillet (approximately 1-1/2 lbs.) from the freezer.Laying it out still frozen on a large piece of heavy aluminum foil on a half sheet pan, I drizzled it with Asian salad dressing (Walden Farms calorie-free); a dash of low-salt tamari; a small line of toasted sesame oil down the fish; approximately 1/2 tsp. of cilantro paste from a tube (or use 1 tsp. finely chopped fresh); 1/2 tsp. applewood smoked salt; 1/3 tsp. each of garlic and onion powder, and freshly ground black pepper. Using a small spoon to evenly distribute the seasonings over the fish, I then laid 4 fresh basil leaves over the fish (I had a sprig of purple Thai basil, but Italian basil would work just as well). I left the pan out on the counter for about 45 minutes, until the fish was not quite thawed, then folded the foil into a loose package on the baking sheet, sealing it but leaving some air space above the fish. Meanwhile, I placed spears of sweet potato on a glass pie plate, spraying them with a little olive oil and seasoning them with salt and pepper. In another glass baking dish, I broke apart half a head of cauliflower, spraying it with oil and seasoning it with onion powder and a little smoked Spanish paprika. I started the vegetables first at 325, then added the fish to the already working oven, cooking the fish in a 300 degree oven for 30 minutes. Dinner couldn't have been healthier or more delicious. Now, back to the closet so Mom can sleep in her own bed again. This meal also be done on the grill. Variation 2: The salmon could be baked in parchment packets with smaller, flatter pieces of fish, plus a few thinly sliced vegetables like zucchini or other summer squash, with mushrooms and green onions or chives, sprinkled with the above seasonings.

The Polska Stuffed Cabbage Polka

A humongous cabbage has been lurking in the crisper drawer. It was on sale for 99 cents after St. Patrick's Day, no doubt left over from corned beef and cabbage at the brewpub owned by the local grocer. Goaded by the need for more refrigerator space and a desire for something adventurous in the comfort food category, I decided to make stuffed cabbage. My grandmother was not Polish or Jewish, but her version had elements of both cultures. I decided to try to emulate hers while adding healthier elements. Climbing on a ladder, I pulled down a large steamer/stockpot combination that I use for canning and put the head of cabbage to steam over boiling salted water after removing the core. I thawed a pound of low-fat chicken breakfast sausage rather than drive further afield for ground turkey breast or really lean (4 percent or so) ground beef. To extricate the flavor profile from its breakfast leanings, I mixed together some augmentation: TVP (soy based, non-GMO, no solvents) with a bit of water and tomato sauce, dried shiitakes reduced to near powder, raisins, garlic, miso, dried onion, a little black bean garlic paste, Spanish paprika, a dash of allspice, a dab of balsamic vinegar and a squirt of agave syrup. After that mixture hydrated, I added the chicken sausage and about a cup of cooked brown rice with a little Tony's and few sprinkles of Bufalo chipotle sauce. Into another large pot, I chopped a red sweet pepper, a third of a small onion and three cloves of garlic, opening a large can of crushed tomatoes and simmering it all with a bit more balsamic and malt vinegar, some coconut sugar and a squirt of agave. The cabbage pot had been pulled off the burner, and I peeled a pile of leaves. I cut off the fibrous core base in a triangular pattern, and placed generous mounds of filling into the giant leaves, placing the bundles in layers on a base of sauce in a large Dutch oven, adding sauce between each layer. The covered pan went into the oven at 325 for a little more than two hours with a casserole of acorn squash as its later accompaniment. The resulting cabbage rolls had the requisite Polish/Jewish sweet and sour tang. The savory filling laced with raisins had the right texture, and the TVP was not detectable. The cabbage was also quite tender and I am happy to report the rolls did not fall apart. Mom asked, "What it this?" That is a sign that in spite of her own mother's efforts, such ethnic offerings are now outside of Mom's acceptable-because-they-are-recognizable food categories. I may freeze some of the leftovers.

Caucasian Asian Breakfasts

I have steadfastly eschewed cereal as a breakfast option for some time. Until recently, I had not been breakfasting much at all, except perhaps on weekends when a fritatta, huevos rancheros or sourdough buckwheat pancakes were more brunch items than breakfast. Cereal, especially those that come in a box, leave me cold. However, I have a new reality. My morning routine must begin with a fasting blood sugar reading, and I have to take my morning Metformin with something to eat. My nurse practitioner (aka my sister) was aghast at my breakfastless state, and has urged low-fat protein as preferable to carb-laden breakfasts, the American norm. I have been trying Greek yogurt with half a fresh pear or banana, or a fresh fruit smoothie, which are okay but a bit too filling. Eggbeater omelettes are not the same as the lovely bright-yolked eggs I had been getting from local hens and placing over easy atop a tortilla and salsa fresca (actually a formerly favorite lunch). I have been trying various options, and recently hit on the most satisfactory breakfast of all, at least for my palate --- miso soup/pho in all their possible, if not totally authentic, permutations. This morning, I made a real winner incorporating some red organic non-GMO miso paste that I found in my favorite little Asian store on Mill Plain in Vancouver. I have not got up enough nerve to go home with the fish swimming around in their tanks, but that store is where I find reasonably priced baby bok choy, oyster mushrooms, dried sliced shiitakes, buckwheat and brown rice noodles, sesame oil, black bean garlic paste, various types of soy sauces and fish sauce and all the other Asian items now lining my shelves and the door of the refrigerator. This morning's repast began with a teaspoon of black bean garlic sauce and a little Bragg's amino sauce mixed in water, followed by dried shiitakes, oyster mushrooms, 2 scallions, 2 baby sweet orange peppers, 2 baby bok choy, ginger, garlic, about a half cup of frozen stirfry vegetables, the last of a frozen bag of mixed seafood (about 3/4 cup), and a handful of buckwheat noodles, topped off with a heaping tablespoon of red miso plus a drop of sesame oil and a couple of sprinkles of red pepper flakes. One big soup cup later, I was sated and ready for the day, with enough left over for a light supper. It is my version of stone soup, and can include tofu, light coconut milk, broccoli slaw strands, leftover salmon or other fish, mung bean/glass noodles (not that low carb, alas), asparagus, chicken breast, frozen green beans, chili paste, shredded carrot, or whatever else is lurking in the crisper drawer. One of these days I will make it out to Uwajimaya in Beaverton to stock up on bonito flakes, seaweed and other more authentic Japanese miso soup ingredients. Back in my macrobiotic hippie days, I used to enjoy spring miso, which is a more delicate, pale version of the tub of red miso I have now. One great thing about miso is its versatility (a tasty and healthful marinade for salmon or salad dressing ingredient) and its longevity in the refrigerator. Mom is not much of a fan, so I have been doing batches of vegetable/chicken/rice soup she can eat for her lunch with a pressed turkey and low-fat processed cheese sandwich. I cook pots of hot cereal for her breakfast. The latest version she heated this morning included steelcut oats, seven-grain rolled flakes, chopped dried apple, raisins and cinnamon. Tuesday morning, I had an early clinic appointment and had to eat something to go with my medicine, so opted for a little of her cereal, nuked and topped with a little fat-free half and half. Hey, it wasn't half bad, just a little too breakfasty for me.

Spring(s) eternal

Today is Easter, and tomorrow is April Fools' Day. (Please note that I am allowing for more than one of the latter.) Both seem apropos. The last three months have proven to be a pivotal point in my life. Not only did my heart literally skip a beat or three --- the official diagnosis was atrial fibrillation --- I have also been diagnosed with diabetes and high blood pressure. Atrial fibrillation is known colloquially as A-fib. It can be life-threatening due to blood pooling in the chambers of the heart and the potential for clots. In the E.R. I was given two transfusions that failed to convert my heart rhythms to normal. I was then anesthesized and given an electric shock, which did the trick. I had not had a regular doctor's exam in years, but knew from a couple of health fair blood tests and blood pressure readings that I had a 'pre-diabetic' condition as well as high blood pressure. I was the Queen of Denial, and the E.R. doctor let me have it with both barrels. Now I owe my life to Providence Hospital, both literally and figuratively. The monetary payment due for my self-neglect is mounting daily and currently exceeds $8,000. I am paying in other ways, from the pricks of blood sugar testing (at first I did five a day) to facing the reality that those low-fat and sugar-free dishes I have been making for Mom are also my permanent lot in life, with no slipping away for the occasional bacon cheeseburger. I have also quit drinking, which was no doubt contributing to lopsided cholesteral readings and nighttime blood sugar highs, which is when I had the A-fib episodes. (Yes, there were several; the first two I ignored). Chastened, I am taking little walks, which I hope can increase in length as the weather improves and my stamina builds. I am also trying to deal with the pressure of mounting medical bills while not having my heart rhythms respond accordingly. Life has become a round of blood sugar and blood pressure readings and episodes of intestinal discomfort due to the new medications, which include Warfarin, a blood-thinning 'rat poison' that requires constant monitoring. Nevertheless, this is a lovely Easter. Mom is going to services wearing that new aqua dress and jacket that has been in the back of the closet awaiting this spring day. While she is gone, I plan to put together a healthy Easter repast: 4% ham slices with fresh pineapple, a brown rice/quinoa pilaf, and roast asparagus and baby bok choy, followed by beautiful fresh strawberries for dessert. I am thinking of using the non-stick donut pan to make little sugar-free, low-fat cakes as bases for strawberry shortcake. It is expected to top 70 degrees today, and in my own way, I am celebrating rebirth.

Of time and tamales

The holidays have come and gone, and the first week of 2013 has passed. Our fuschia hanging baskets are now finally languishing after surviving into the New Year, sporting only slightly shriveled blossoms amid ice and snow. I haven't posted anything on this blog since October. At Thanksgiving, I reworked a blog piece about the 2011 community dinner at the request of the newspaper's new editor published as a guest editorial. A responding letter the following week, originally a Facebook posting, was nasty and viperous rather like Oscar Brown Jr.'s song about the snake, as in receiving a fatal bite after taking it to your bosom to keep it warm. I have somewhat recovered, but am no longer shopping at the store where the letter-writer is manager. Two holiday bazaar booths, two ailing vehicles, two family holiday trips to my sister's, and a new regimen of physical therapy sessions requiring me to shuttle the mama twice a week have had me hopping. Now that we are settling in for a long winter's nap following the surfeit of holidaying, I have managed to resuscitate one of my computers long enough to go online more than a minute at a time. However, if the icestorm I fear is brewing materializes this evening, there may be no power, so I am hastening to post something to indicate I am still breathing. I have been going through old files and notebooks, sorting out the good stuff and corraling old writings to one or two boxes, a good project for a new year. I have more poems than I thought, some good, some not so, plus a wildly disparate collection of writing fragments gleaned from over the years. They include some fiction pieces, essays revealing several facets of complicated times and relationships in my life, song lyrics, plus an entertaining five-page letter from the early San Francisco days and a packet of letters from Alaska. I am cocooning to the degree that I am wallowing in a new, compact recliner that sits where my rocker used to be, and doing another 'She Who Watches' beaded piece. My Obo Addy beaded and appliqued wall hanging was sent last week to his widow, Susan. It took 'honorable mention' at the Artists of the Gorge show in October. I am also being quite nostalgic about food, and have several pending projects planned. Our family is not Hispanic, but for a number of years, making chicken tamales was a holiday tradition, with my Missourian grandmother as the instigator. We did not have masa then, but used some of the broth from simmering a whole bird to cook cornmeal, adding lots of cumin seed crushed by hand. Our tamales were not terrifically spicy, but they often had canned and diced green jalapenos plus some oregano, garlic, onion, bay leaf, etc. The shredded meat was placed in the center after cooked cornmeal was spread on two or three pieced-together soaked cornhusks. We prided ourselves in using thin strips of cornhusk as ties, although I remember kitchen twine in earlier years, or wrapping the tamales in squares of old white sheets when husks weren't available in the frugal old days and the stewed chicken was a sacrificial hen. They were steamed in the big canner. We quit the tradition when the grandkids turned up their noses, to my grandma's disgust. I still love tamales, and occasionally make a mole version. I have a big package of masa, some mole paste, and an itch to get the big canner off the high shelf. At the very least, they freeze well.