Tango in Winter

Tags

daily round, Gardening, Salad with peanut sauce, Slow Life

It’s been snowing all day and the wind has made it fierce-going on the trail, but we nonetheless managed to cross the bridge and make our way through the bluster for a rather enlivening walk. Back inside Full Moon Cottage and thawing out with some ginger green tea, I decided to make a salad for dinner, but with enough heat, depth, and bite to stand up to winter, which has made its Maria Callas re-entrance today. The lime, cilantro, and hot sauce, though, brought the energies and smells of warmer seasons to mind.

Located “Pepe and the Bottled Blondes” and “Pink Martini” CD’s: Ay-yi-yi! (Or Thai equivalent.) Look out, 4-leggeds; Mama’s gotta dance!

The salad turned out well: at any rate, I enjoyed it while studying the landscape and fantasizing amidst a pile of garden catalogues and their enticing descriptions of new flowers, vegetables, and herbs. A terrific afternoon of dreaming.

And dancing.

The snow is beautiful; the hush it brings is lovely, but tonight I think I’ll close my eyes to the white-on-white landscape and dream in the colors and flavors of gardens yet-to-come.

Salsa, anyone?

Vegetable Salad in Peanut Sauce

(Everything’s approximate in my salads, just like it is when I make soup: adjust according to your taste.)

6 T rice wine vinegar

6 T sesame or vegetable oil

1/3 C Peanut Butter (I may have used more. Organic and chunky; creamy would be fine.)

3 T of brown sugar

3 T Tamari Sauce (or Soy; Tamari is without wheat and has more soy…)

2-3 T chopped ginger and/or powdered ginger

3 chopped cloves of garlic

2-3 T lime juice

4 T Thai chili-garlic sauce (I used more)

That’s the peanut sauce: Whisk it together and adjust it to the consistency, quantity, and tastes you like.

For the salad: I mixed some:

Red and green cabbage (sliced and chopped like coleslaw)

Chopped green onions

Big bunch of cilantro (chopped).

Julienne 4 carrots and 2 sweet potatoes, and microwave them to soften before adding.

 Cook/drain/add some brown-rice noodles. (About ½ lb, or amount that suits you.)

(Could add red/green peppers, maybe an apple or two, and some soft tofu cut into small squares, or shrimp …but didn’t have these on hand today.)

¡OLÉ!

 

 

 

Recall and Kitchen Wisdom: Creating a Table Where all are Welcome

Tags

co-creation, daily round, Politics, Wisconsin, wisdom

The one area of domestic creativity that has intrigued me from an early age has been anything connected to cooking and baking. My mother was very capable in the kitchen, but didn’t enjoy her time there; I speculate this was largely because producing family meals day in and day out without much of a break became a dull routine. I recall her deep pleasure in my father’s midlife interest in gourmet cooking, and the way it freed up her weekends so she could relax and enjoy time away from the kitchen.

One glorious Christmas, Santa brought me an Easy-Bake Oven, with its miniature stove, pans, utensils, and boxed mixes. It conjured little layer cakes, muffins, and quick breads through the magical heat of a light bulb. It entertained me and kept my brothers content for a few minutes after the Lilliputian cakes were frosted, but I soon tired of putzing around on such a small scale: I wanted to enter the arena of the real kitchen and manipulate the enchantment of chemistry on a grander and more sophisticated stage.

My mother was only too happy to encourage this, and I am eternally grateful for the trust and freedom she granted me as she left the room with her own pile of books and a sigh of contentment.

Her list of rules was brief. She expected me to clean up whatever mess I created, which I thought a fair exchange for the pleasure provided, for creation—both the birth and death necessary for it to occur—is a messy affair indeed. She also asked that I share my results with my brothers, which taught me that while indulging one’s creativity is vital, the sharing of one’s creation, art, and self is the purpose.

I’ve been pondering these lessons lately, as I return to the kitchen with the great excitement of holiday baking adventures, new recipes, and family gatherings tantalizing my imagination. I love all the seasons, but there is none better for me than that grand culinary and guest-welcoming stretch of the calendar year between October and January. Friends, family, food and its accompaniments: what’s better? Imagining how this or that creation will please someone we love is a lovely impetus for our artistic endeavors.

And so, in the kitchen, I still create wildly and clean the mess as I go along, and I still—mostly—share what I create. I’ve been wondering lately, though, if I apply these rules as wisely to the rest of my pursuits in the grander and more sophisticated arena of life outside of my kitchen.

It is no secret that Wisconsin, the state where I have lived most of my life, is experiencing a political crisis and that divisive laws, choices, and use of power have been more in evidence this past year. We are living through an intensely concentrated and tempestuous version of the larger international and national socio-political chaos that is the hallmark of our time, and there are days I can enter the fray with energy and clear vision, and others, when I desire silence, peace, and a Canadian refuge. Life and choices are not black and white, as they were when I was younger; they are rather a formless gray and we are invited, especially in a representative democracy (if we truly are that anymore), to co-create our society’s shapes and patterns, institutions and laws, taxes and their use…and we are expected to participate fully in the operation and integrity of these systems, ensuring that our creation is fashioned to include and honor everyone justly.

I am filled with doubt when asked to support an “us/them” mentality, and yet the divisions between the opposing political worldviews seem more and more distinct, and I am increasingly unable to perceive enough common ground where I may stand and hold hands with those on either side of the arguments. I am concerned that all of us are creating messes without attending to them and have no well-formulated plan for how our new creations will be shared among all the state’s, or country’s, or world’s residents, including the non-human.

I fear we may act without forethought, fueled by anger and reactive impulses rather than reason and compassion. How will we reconstitute the relationships we are dissolving and repair the connections we have destroyed? How will those we oppose be invited to contribute their gifts if we become the party in power? How are we living into the change we desire?

It seems the earth is straining more violently these days, and the hope flickering at my core is that these are birth pangs as well as death cries, and that the spirit of love is present, working earnestly to help us midwife a time of greater peace and equity among all earth-dwellers. I can’t go on without such hope, despite the preponderant evidence that we never, really, learn how to accept and love the stranger.

Hate is a dangerous fuel, energizing and strengthening a journey of division. It can change the faces of power without altering the balance. Discord is not a reliable or sustainable diet. And I cannot be fooled into believing myself, and therefore my pursuits and methods, any less selfish and partisan than those with whom I disagree. Listening, reflection, and circumspection are more important practices than ever.

I’m trying a new recipe today and as excited as ever about creating something new and sharing it with those I love.

Tomorrow I will sign a petition that seeks to recall our current governor.

May we proceed cautiously and with mindfulness regarding the energetic sources that inspire and motivate us; may we take time to tend to our messes as we go along; and may we finally create a life-giving system for governance served at a table where all are welcome and all are fed.

From Seed to Table

Tags

blessing, Butternut Squash Soup, co-creation, Full Moon Cottage, Garden

Part of the daily round this time of year means harvesting the fresh produce still offered up by our vegetable garden before the frost reclaims the earth and bids it rest through the winter. Although a few tomatoes are still ripening, the yield at this point is largely peppers, squash, onions, garlic, carrots, and autumn raspberries, along with the faithful herbs, rosemary, French tarragon, and sage. The basil died during the cold nights two weeks ago, and the dill and cilantro have gone to seed. To me, the smell of basil is synonymous with summer. I’m always sad to see it go, but I freeze cubes of pesto, so we can celebrate its life and scent till spring.

I grew up in sequential suburbs and then lived in a city for 20 years. My father gardened, but he focused on roses, rather than vegetables. My own suburban homes were crammed with perennials and provided years of education in garden design, but never afforded the space for vegetables, beyond a few peppers and tomatoes, so when Phillip and I moved to Full Moon, we were ready to start a “real” vegetable garden. Farmers’ Markets are wonderful, but we love growing our own food, despite the hassles of weeds and pests (though this year’s invasion of Japanese Beetles was discouraging).

The 4 acres surrounding our home were surprisingly “gardenless” before we became Full Moon’s caretakers. When we first toured the property, the woman living here said, “I never knew where to put a garden.”

Really? How about anywhere?

18 years later, we have many flower gardens and a wonderful vegetable garden. From asparagus to the potatoes and carrots we’ve dug up after snowfalls, the annual parade of homegrown produce has blessed our table and fed our spirits–and guests–as well.

Gardening is many things, but it’s never “finished.” The designs and plans are always evolving, the living 3-D sculpture is always changing, and gardeners are forever hopefully dreaming about the next opportunity to co-create their art with Nature. The satisfaction of planting seeds and reaping both food and beauty offers a continual enticement and delight.

While we page through our favorite garden catalogues this winter, we’ll be enjoying this soup made from our squash. It freezes well and the cook defines the quantity and ingredients according to her desire.

 Bless the seed; bless the fruit; bless the meal and bless those present, enjoying the lovely, spiraling energy of life, dancing in our gardens, bodies, and spirits.

Butternut Squash Soup

Chopped onions (I used two medium yellow onions)

Sliced celery (I used about 2 cups, because I’m in love with the flavor)

Chicken stock, vegetable stock, water, white wine, and/or apple cider: you decide on the mix and blend. It’s best to keep the amount less, initially, and later thin the soup to the consistency you like. I used homemade stock and apple cider, and added water sparingly.

Black pepper

Cayenne (YOU DECIDE!)

Other herbs (I also used a small bit of rosemary, and ground some nutmeg into the finished soup.)

EV olive oil, unsalted butter

1 package 8-oz. cream cheese, room temperature, and divided into about 6 chunks.. (There are recipes online for making your own cream cheese, and thus, keeping it organic. Here’s one: http://www.copykat.com/2011/01/18/making-homemade-cream-cheese/). I used a low-fat generic commercial brand. Wouldn’t recommend no-fat, and also wouldn’t recommend the 2-3 blocks the original recipe included. Ugh.) You could also try substituting thickened, plain yogurt. Or don’t use the cream cheese/yogurt at all.

2-3 medium butternut squash… (I used 2 butternut squash and an acorn squash)

1 head of garlic.

Cut the squash lengthwise and clean out the seeds. (Roast the seeds with a little oil, if you like.) Slice off the tips of the garlic cloves, exposing the bulb tops for roasting. Drizzle olive oil over the squash and the head of garlic. Place squash cut-side down on a foil-lined baking pan; nestle head of garlic where space allows, and roast it all at 350 for an hour to 90 minutes, till tender and caramelized.

While the squash and garlic are roasting, melt a couple Tablespoons of butter, and add enough olive oil to sauté the onions and celery. I like them softer-than-raw, but still retaining a bit of crunch…when the perfume becomes heavenly, I stop. I added about a Cup of stock to this mixture.

Scoop out the roasted squash and squeeze roasted garlic bulbs out from their papery covering. Blend these, with the cream cheese, in batches, in a food processor or blender, with enough liquid to create a thick puree. (I used apple cider, as needed.)

Combine the squash mixture with the celery and onions; add the herbs you like, and thin to your desired consistency. I used the stock for this, and kept the soup pretty thick.

Serve with a splash of cream sherry and a pinch of ground ginger. Or not.

The only thing I might do next time is add carrots (like the gorgeous red ones we grew this year, pictured above), and other root vegetables; it always depends upon what’s on hand. Enjoy this seed-to-table gift from the garden.