Newsprint

All over the county this week folks will be recycling some 1300 words I wrote for a Times-Standard special section on the state of the county's dairy industry (they're putting one of these out every Sunday for the next few weeks, each one focusing on one of the county's big industries). Oh, folks will also be recycling a very sweet picture of Jonah drinking a glass of milk. And a couple of typos. Then again, they do that every week. [Somehow they found a way to introduce typos into my article. That's right, me, the compulsive proofreader. Ack. Just so you know: I didn't write that cows eat "salads of fresh clover and us." I don't care how good that milk tastes, I'm not buying it.]

I think this is going to wind up online somewhere; I'll update with a link when that happens.

Hope you are all enjoying your Sunday. We're out mowing and weeding and planting in the sunshine.

Spring Green

Don't forget to visit us at thedishandthespoon
New recipes and stories all spring long.

I swear I didn't put him up to this

Tomorrow our local Farmer's Market returns (it's true that it was year-round this year, but the winter offerings--in the parking lot of the new Eureka Coop--were pretty slim, sometimes only carrots). We try to go every week,Mid-April through the end of November. Not just to score some terrific produce, but because it provides opportunities to see and catch up with just about everyone we know around here. Kind of like church. The live music is usually pretty good too. Also tomorrow, Brio opens their highly anticipated cafe right there on the Plaza.

Anyway, Jonah and I were talking about how we were going to get to go to the Framer's Market on Saturday and he said: "The farmers are the most important part of the Farmer's Market."

"Why's that?"

"Because they grow all the food!"

Speaking of food: brownies, kind of, over at thedishandthespoon. Go get some before they're all gone.

You Thought We'd Never Speak Of This Again

I've been thinking more about the dairy stuff I mentioned the other day--and more about how I make food choices for my family.

You'll find a piece of writing more sustained than anything you'll get here for a little while (Jonah's been sick and I need to catch up on cleaning this old house and the new camera is here) over at my other place.

Pick and Choose

Blogging tonight from Eugene, OR where we are spending the night on the way to my brother's wedding in Seattle this weekend.

Before settling at the motel, we stopped to get some milk for the kids' bedtime fix at the neat grocery store across the street (their cheese section and bakery and deli go waaaay beyond anything we've got near home, sigh). I always find myself a bit disoriented in a grocery store away from home. It smells funny, the way things are set up just doesn't make sense, products that are familiar--that I buy all the time--look terribly out-of-place and downright strange in a different environment, and I never know which milk to buy.

I must have stood there for 5 minutes in front of the rather excessive selection of milks (all the while Hannah standing next to me complaining about being cold). There were the available-everywhere organics. But I can't remember...which brand is the "good" one and which is the one that exploits the rules so that most of the cows never really spend time out in the fields grazing on sweet, green grass? There's the milk in the glass bottles. I am a sucker for the gorgeous glass bottles. Then I get stuck on the price (besides, I don't need to be schlepping more stuff around right now). There's milk from the big Southern Oregon dairy. The packaging doesn't say where the milk they distribute comes from. There's the milk that tastes as generic as its packaging.

It's so much easier at home. I don't stand in front of the refrigerated case thinking about whether cows grazing on fresh pasture as much as possible really matters to me or if I've just been green-washed into thinking it does, I don't wonder whether Oregon cows are happy cows, I don't look for labels that tell me about hormones or antibiotics, buying milk's not some kind of existential exercise... I know what I want and I know exactly where to find it. And I know that we are lucky to have it so abundantly: authentic milk.

It's not that it's all fancy and trendy, it's that the flavors of particular farms and seasons come through so strongly. Sure, we buy it at the store in plastic gallon jugs and it looks like pretty much any other milk out there (you know, white), but to drink it is to taste the lush green, green, green that surrounds us.

Beyond savoring good milk is instilling in my children a sense of the ways in which the individuals who make up communities--Hannah and Jonah drinking milk before bed, the grocery store owner, the farmers, the cows--are connected to each other and connected to the place we all live. More to come on this topic.

(By this topic, I don't mean the many splendors of Humboldt County's dairy products. While there's plenty to be said, show of hands, who really wants me to keep nattering on about milk? You at the back and you over there... Right, that's what I thought. Rather, what I mean to return to is the topic of undoing the dammage done by the kind of talk I hear coming from my children, their teachers and their friends' parents that goes like this: "You need to tell your body to be still!", "Check whether your body needs to use the bathroom." Huh? Stay tuned.)

Wishing for World Peace?

Look no further than thedishandthespoon .

Cookies

Over at thedishandthespoon, some simple cookies for a blustery day.

Icing on the Cake

Hannah was rather disappointed that we did not eat turkey on Thanksgiving day. Not realizing that it was so important to her and since it was just us, I had made chicken. Today though we got to have a great, traditional turkey dinner with our dear friends.
They have been out of town all week (in fact, we lent--rented, is more like it--them our car so they'd have a little extra seating room on their trip and Santa made a couple of bucks). The kids were thrilled to see each other and played and played without our having to intervene nearly at all. John asked about our most memorable Thanksgiving/Christmas--a great way to get us sharing stories. The drama, the laughs, the pathos, the adult conversation.
We ate turkey and mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes and green beans and peas and stuffing and lots and lots of gravy and it was so very good. There was a bit of anxiety over some of the turkey being a tad under-cooked and the stuffing having been laced, perhaps, with salmonella. But the gravy was so very good.

I made these tiny apple turnovers (recipe over at thedishandthespoon). They were a bigger hit than I had expected; next time I will make more.

Jonah is taking his nap now, Hannah's playing quietly, John's grading papers. In about an hour, we take the kids over to our friend Anne Marie's, about 5 minutes away from our place, so that she can borrow them for the evening (when she asked, couching it in just these terms, I said that would be fine, but we have a 3-day minimum and stiff penalties for early returns).

Happy Birthday, Buster

Click on over to the dish and the spoon to see what I made my husband in lieu of a birthday cake.(And no, it's not a model of Mount Rainier made out of flour.)

Family Tradition

When I was very young, my family lived in Chicago and we would go to my (paternal) grandparents' place south of town for all the major holidays. For Thanksgiving, I can remember loading up in the car after my dad got off work on Wednesday, falling asleep in the car on the ride down to Ashkum and waking up as one of my parent's carried me into Grandma's kitchen.
One year, probably the year I turned 5 (my birthday sometimes falls on Thanksgiving, you
know), my mom had baked a bunch of pies to take with us. Pumpkin, apple--she put them on the floor of the car in front of my seat and told me I'd better be careful not to step in one of them. I don't remember putting my foot into one of the pumpkin pies, but I do remember my grandfather telling me that I'd have to eat the whole thing since it was my footprint. I was scared of the the man--on top of being a terribly literal child--and could not sleep that night for fear of what would happen when I couldn't eat the whole thing.

Last year, the kids were very excited to get to help make the pumpkin pies for our Thanksgiving dinner. They poured in the milk, beat the eggs, stirred and stirred--it's actually a great thing to make with kids because there is lots for them to do. About 10 minutes after I set the pie out to cool, I heard John telling Jonah "Yeah, that is really good." The little bugger had pulled a chair up to the counter and was taking spoonfuls of pie filling to his Dad. Nothing that couldn't be covered up with a little whipped cream.

This year's pie escaped with just a few fingerprint marks and a couple of pieces of crust broken off. And it was very tasty.

Because I'm Doing Such An Amazing Job With This Blog...

...I've decided to start another.

I do like the idea of posting our weekly menu and recipes and such, but I don't want the little dog laughed to be that kind of blog (and what exactly do you mean by that, Naomi? Well, uh, I'm not sure, exactly, but I don't really want it to be a food blog and I want it to be about much more than what we are going to have for dinner and what we had for lunch). So without further ado I present the dish and the spoon.

(I harbor the secret hope that one of my cats will take up fiddling so that I can start yet another blog.)

Weekly Menu - Week of November 12

I've decided to join Danielle and others in posting our weekly menu. I'm usually very good at making out a menu every week and sticking to it. Typically I build on what I've picked up at the Farmer's Market on Saturday and do a weekly shopping trip on Sunday. Some weeks are better than others, of course, and in periods when we need to be a bit more frugal, it helps us to be more disciplined in our spending.
Sunday: Tostadas with beef and all the fixings
Monday: Teriyaki chicken, rice and Amy's cabbage salad (Hannah's choice)
Tuesday: Kale, tomatoes, shallots and feta over noodles
Wednesday: Leek and potato soup with chicken apple sausage
Thursday: Midwest-mex enchiladas (you'll have to stick around)
Friday: Falafel with all the fixings
Saturday: Probably out

Because nothing says "I don't feel like writing--I don't even feel like typing" quite like this does.

Blogger's spell-check just asked me if I wanted to replace "falafel" with "Falwell". As if.

Partay!

The soccer party was lovely, really. We had about 20 people over: soccer players, their parents, siblings. Most of the children on Hannah's team are from families we have known since all the kids were infants (some of them from when the kids were in utero), so our get-togethers are typically easy, comfortable things with just a touch (sometimes much more than others, today on the light side) of melodrama in the playroom.

The Most Wonderful Coaches Ever (TM) made a special award for each of the players and gave a little speech as they handed them out. Hannah was "Most Consistent"--for showing up at every game and practice, for being such a reliable player and for scoring at least one goal in every game.
I've enjoyed watching her blossom as a player over the past few months (Thanks MWCE!). She loves playing and definitely shows some natural abilities--she's light on her feet, quick and stinkin' competitive. She's also showing an understanding of the game and how to play it with other people that I only see in a few of the kids.
After most everyone took off, Joel and Phoebe and Mickey and associated children joined us for a walk on the river. It was quite terrific--especially since John and Joel took all the kids down to the water while we women took a chatty walk on the loop trail. The kids kept busy building bridges across a little inlet and playing at whatever they were playing at. Only one child got sopping wet wading right on into the river (that'd be Jonah).

This evening has been quiet and calm. Hannah and Jonah playing happily in a fort made of chairs and blankets, John and I reading the Sunday newspapers. I just ate the last little sliver of the coffee cake-y thing I made for the potluck (cornbread from a mix with a cup and a half of blueberries [frozen from this summer] tossed in and a streusel topping [about 1/3 cup butter, 1/3 cup brown sugar, 1/4 cup flour and 1/2 cup oats])--turned out to be perfect with a tiny cup of eggnog. I'm about to go curl up with the Official Voter Information Guide. Wish me luck.

'Tis the Season

I enjoyed the first glass of eggnog of the season tonight while I read the NY Times food section (that's been sitting around since Wednesday) and the Lorrie Moore story I mentioned last night (anyone care to venture a guess as to why she's got a character named Daniel Handler?).

Eggnog is one of those things that I suddenly crave come the beginning of November and immediately like a whole lot less as soon as Thanksgiving is past. Turkey is another. Stuffing to a lesser extent (because I always like stuffing). Pumpkin pie. Though I don't know that I--or anyone I know--has ever craved pumpkin pie. I don't know whether I'd drink eggnog if we could buy it in July--and heaven knows I don't roast turkeys or bake pumpkin pies at any other time of the year--but when I see the first batch of eggnog in the store, I just have to have some right away. And the very thought of a turkey sandwich on fresh bread, slathered with mayonnaise, thick with tomatoes and pickles and lettuce, is making my mouth water as I type.

Then it's over. Not because I overdo it, gorging myself on so much turkey and eggnog that I just can't bear the thought of facing another plateful/glassful ever again. In large part my reaction has more to do with a sense of something wonderful on its way. My tastebuds are doing the anticipating.

Growing up, we didn't celebrate either Halloween or Christmas, but we went all out for the holiday that comes in between. Thanksgiving feels more special to me, more important, more sacred in its own way, than any other holiday. Sure, Thanksgiving is about food. Good food. It's also the time when we gather around a meal not just for our daily sustenance, but to acknowledge that the gathering itself is worthy of celebration. For me, the taste of eggnog (cut by about a third with milk) is the rich and mysterious--how is it that I am so blessed?--and deeply satisfying taste of the many things I have to be thankful for: a roof over my head, a car I love to drive, the love of my parents, my husband's laugh, my children's good health.

Tuesday Talk

John and I checked out the new fish and chips place in Eureka today at lunch. It was a pretty hoppin' place; in the section where we sat, everyone seemed to know each other.
A former mayor--now running for District Supervisor (or, um, something...honestly, I don't know)--and her husband were at the table next to ours. All I can tell you though is that they really liked the clam chowder. Both varieties.

John and I shared the crab cakes and the Fisherman's Platter. The crab cakes were very simple: lots of crab, not much else. They were good, though I would have liked a little bit more crunch (same problem with the tartar sauce; I like mine with lots of pickly goodness). The scallops and the shrimp on the platter were excellent, but the advertised 2 pieces of cod together barely amounted to a single piece. There wasn't enough batter on anything to stand up to vinegar, but the cocktail sauce was tasty (from a jar?). The fries were pretty typical skin-on fries. Service was quick and friendly. We'll take the kids some time.

Summer Evening: Salad

Summer has finally hit the North Coast. We have had 2 weeks of beautiful, sunny days. While the rest of the state has been absolutely sweltering, temperatures up here have peaked out at about 70 degrees (inland just a bit where we are, we've been up in the very-tolerable 80s). A spell like this never lasts as long as I'd like it to.

Hannah was drawn to a mixed salad with lots of flowers in it at the Farmer's Market yesterday. At dinner, I turned it into a riff on a salad I have been craving: the Lazy Susan Cafe's hot seafood salad. I've often suggested that we make the trip up to Cannon Beach, OR just so that I can have this salad again. Instead, I made a vinaigrette with lemons and shallots, seared some scallops and sweet bay shrimp (fresh mozzarella for Hannah who's just not a seafood gal). A Brio baguette on the side and a tall glass of sun tea. Summer could last forever as far as I'm concerned.


Our big project for the summer has been putting down laminate flooring in our diningroom and playroom (stinky carpet--gone forever!). Putting the laminate down went pretty quickly. Now that that's done, we're moving slowly on the finishing touches. Take another look at that first picture--looks good, doesn't it?

Blueberries anyone?

We spent this lovely summer afternoon at our local pick-your-own-blueberries spot with our wonderful friends Mickey and Jayme. Our family came home with 6.5 lbs of perfect, plump, sweet berries. And the many we--some of us--ate as we picked and chatted and enjoyed being together, outside.

N: So, Jonah what do think of these blueberries? Do they taste good?
j: I'm here to pick, not eat.
(And pick he did, a whole half pound of berries. Hannah, John and I each picked 2 lbs.)

What to do with all these berries? I've frozen some already. I'm thinking about doing a huge batch of blueberry muffins to freeze--John will love to have those to grab on his way to work. I'm not much of a fruit pie kind of gal, but I do love turnovers. Add a handful to a salad? You bet I will. Jam? Maybe. Tonight we had them plain with vanilla ice cream.

Lasagna!

Many people think of lasagna as a complicated, involved, all-day cooking project. It can be, of course (ever read Marcella Hazan's recipe?), but here at the little dog laughed, it's childplay. This is your typical american lasagna, great as a make-ahead dish. It's perfect for letting the kids pitch in. We've made this together several times now and I find myself doing less and less every time.

Our Family Lasagna


Hannah grates about 12 oz of mozzarella cheese with our vintage, bright orange, Cuisinart rotary grater (picked it up at a garage sale, as new with all the blades).







Jonah mixes a 15 oz container of ricotta cheese with one egg and about a tablespoon of Italian seasoning.





Meanwhile, I brown about half a pound of ground meat (today we used turkey sausage) with some garlic and spices. Then I pour in a jar of spaghetti sauce and let Hannah stir. The kids each have a wonderful apron from Mimi The Sardine. They wipe clean very easily and are just too cute.

Ready to layer? A ladleful of sauce on the bottom of the baking dish (a 9x13 dish is perfect for our family with some leftovers), then a layer of noodles (I like the ones we don't need to pre-cook from Barilla). Spread half the ricotta mixture over the noodles, sprinkle on a fine layer of cheese and a third of the remaining sauce. Noodles, ricotta, cheese, sauce, noodles, sauce, cheese!

The lasagna is ready to bake. I bake it in a 375 oven, covered with foil for about 40 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for another 15 minutes, until the cheese on top is starting to brown just a bit. The unbaked lasagna can also be covered and put in the fridge to be baked later--just add 10 minutes or so to the baking time.

Let stand for about 5 minutes before serving. Patience! It'll be hot! As you can see, this is not Hannah's favorite part... Enjoy!

Cesar Chavez Day: Now with Recipes!

I asked Professor Google, still I'm unclear on how one celebrates Cesar Chavez day. Perhaps we should hide heads of lettuce around the yard and send the children off to find them? (Levity aside, this is meant to be a day of "service and/or learning". Aren't they all?)

Here is what we did. Started the day off slowly. Went to lunch at Los Bagels, to the Coop for groceries and a scrumptious chai. Put Jonah down for a nap, Hannah down for her rest. Did 3 loads of laundry. Turned local, organic leeks and potatoes into leek and potato soup. Cleaned up the house. Put together an apple crisp. Turned a loaf of Brio sweet French bread, olive oil, garlic and spices into croutons. Had a delightful evening of good, simple food and conversation with dear friends and their children. I can think of few better ways to spend a rainy day in early spring.

Leek and potato soup is one of my favorites. It is quick and easy to make. The kids love it. It tastes so much more elaborate than it is. I use about a pound each of leeks and potatoes. I slice the leeks and let them sweat in a tiny bit of olive oil in my soup pot while I peel and cut the potatoes. Today I used yellow finn potatoes and a Yukon gold that I had on hand. Any kind of potato will do. I pour in enough chicken stock to cover the vegetables and turn the heat to high. Once the soup is boiling, I turn the heat down and simmer until the potatoes are cooked through. That's pretty much it right there.
I like this soup nice and smooth, so I use the immersion blender on it. Usually, I'll make it earlier in the day and heat it back up over low heat. Right before serving, I stir in a quarter cup or so of heavy cream. Sometimes I add some sliced, cooked chicken apple sausage with the cream.
I serve the soup with grated gruyere cheese and homemade croutons.

I am so buying myself a Le Creuset dutch oven for Mother's Day.

The apple crisp is simple too. Next time I make it, I'll take notes on measurements.
I typically peel and slice about a pound and a half of apples. Whatever's on hand or looked good at the store (or the farmer's market). I like to mix varieties. I toss the apples with a tiny bit of flour, some cinnamon and about a tablespoon of butter chopped into tiny pieces. Sometimes I add some berries or pears to the apples. I bought a Le Creuset ceramic baking dish a few months ago (cheap! at the outlet!); that's what I bake this in.
I like lots of topping on my crisps. I cut about a quarter cup of flour, half a cup of brown sugar and some cinnamon into a stick of butter. Then I mix in a cup and a half of oats. Some slivered almonds if I have any on hand. Sprinkle that over the apples and bake for about 40 minutes at 350. Enjoy with icecream or freshly whipped cream.

Next time: precise measurements and pictures.

See under: Heart, melting

Jonah had a bit of a cold this weekend, so he and I stayed home while John and Hannah went to the Philosophy department’s fall potluck. We shared what has become our favorite meal to share when the others aren’t around: shrimp, udon noodles and peas. I cook the noodles slowly in chicken broth and they get all soft and plump with the broth they absorb, then I throw in some peas. We eat it just like that, nothing else. It’s very simple and Jonah loves it.
So, we are sitting next to each other at the table, enjoying our food and Jonah turns to me and says: “Mom, I am your prince charming”.

And, indeed, he is.

From the day he was born, this little fellow has melted my heart. He is sweet. He is a sweetheart. He loves to be held and snuggled. In his sleep, he reaches out, searching for my hand to hold. As he wakes, the first thing he says in a sleepy murmur is: “I love you too mom”. When I carry him on my hip, he’ll reach over to pat me on the shoulder (watching him do the same to John turns me to mush). He is kind to his sister. He is gentle with our cat. He’s cute and smart and funny and vibrant. His smile, his beautiful blue eyes... Oh, sure, he can be as annoying as the next guy. He's terribly clingy and needy when he's sick. Sometimes I'd just as soon hide all his drums and that un-tunable toy guitar he loves. I'm pretty sure he has inherited (fom John) the gene that renders him incapable of finding things that are right there in front of him. And someday the little boy who asks me for a kiss, then a hug, another kiss, another hug, over and over again... won't do that anymore. Someday, he'll be--in what little there is that is true in fairytales--someone else's prince charming.
Forget the suit of armor, the princess in the tower, the dragon, the white horse. For now, he is my very own.