Week 10

This was such a weird week, easily summed up with the word "coronavirus." Workplace measures were put into place as we prepare for it to affect our campus, and it was hard to think about regular work in the midst of it. I wrote this post about our trying to plan a vacation. It's been like living in a weird dream where you realize all you take for granted is not necessarily available to you. 

Cocktails: necessary

Just as I drove home on Friday, we got a text from our friends who had extra tickets to a fundraising gala that evening in support of a new restaurant that serves as a business incubator for former refugees. We quickly rallied and put on nice clothes and joined them. We ate food from Ethiopia and Iran and listened to African kids sing, "I am not forgotten." The evening was a reminder to live in faith and not fear, and to open our (well-washed) hands and help each other, even as I sat in concern over the hundreds of people I was sharing air with in that room. 

It was a good week for seeing friends in general, as I got to have lunch with a former coworker, dinner with a dear friend, and of course the Friday night dinner. We hugged despite everything.

Dorm room decoration, seen during a photoshoot

Watching

We watched four episodes of "I Am Not Okay with This" on Netflix on Saturday night, and I'm quite enjoying it. It's easy to power through them when each episode is 20 minutes. 

We also started "High Maintenance" on HBO a couple weeks ago, which consists of all sorts of different story lines connected by one weed dealer in New York City. It's a little melancholy but also usually funny. 

Making

I started on my Bojagi shawl this week and it's very fun. 

Listening

I am still loving Tom Hanks' voice in my ears as he reads The Dutch House.

Also highly recommended is the most recent podcast episode of Reply All: The Case of the Missing Hit. Perhaps you've been in a similar situation where you're trying to track down a song you remember from decades ago, and the internet is of no help. This takes that conundrum to new heights. It's so good. 

Reading

Still working through last week's books. Turns out when you read multiple books at once, it takes longer.

Recipes

This was the first time that Melissa Clark disappointed us a little. We made three of her recipes this week: a cheesy fusilli with peas and spinach, a winter vegetable hash, and thai coconut chicken. They were all good, but we made notes of how to change the recipes to make them work better. With the fusilli, the cheese and spinach got so bunched up that it was hard to distribute with the pasta. Joel stirred in some reserved pasta water, which helped. With the veggie hash, she should have instructed us to chop the veggies more finely so that they cooked down more. They were supposed to be able to be smashed in the pan so as to form a sort of cake. We found that impossible. It also needed hot sauce. And finally, with the thai coconut chicken, that was all great except for braising whole chicken breasts. For the sake of time and ensuring doneness of the chicken, as well as not having to knife-and-fork it at the table, I would cube the chicken and let it braise in the coconut sauce. 

The fusilli

The Thai coconut chicken

I also returned to an old favorite: cinnamon swirl bread from the Best Recipe Cookbook, made on Saturday for Sunday brunch.

7 links + 1 recipe for the weekend

A collection of things I read this past week that were worthwhile.

1. Looking for a break from the doom and gloom, I googled Positive News and found this delightful publication from the UK.

2. I just wish Carl Sagan was still around to tell me all the answers.

3. The case for living a less structured life. Improvise more!

4. Beautiful: Shadow work is active.

5. I am guilty of #3 during work meetings. Words and phrases to ban from your vocabulary.

6. This sounds about right.

7. My former art professor is currently using his blog to examine our current political climate through art, which is how I came across this link. Amazing how a cardboard box company could employ such an inspiring, daring and controversial method of advertising that is more about the art and a greater message.

From my cookbook archives: "You can serve sunshine - in salad," this Better Homes and Gardens book begins. Published in 1958, it is predictably filled with tragically lit photography of molded gelatin, processed cheese and stuffed orifices.

The actual best part of the book, though, is the section on salad dressings. I made this tangy French dressing to top my usual salad (romaine and chopped veggies) and quite enjoyed it. My favorite method to dress a salad is to place all the vegetables in the bowl, toss with the dressing to marinate until you're ready for dinner, and then add the salad greens and toss (by hand is best). A great trick I learned from Mom.

Tangy French Dressing

2/3 c. salad oil (I used olive oil but a more neutral oil would probably be better)
2/3 c. vinegar (I used apple cider vinegar)
1/3 c. water
2 T. chopped chives or green onion
2 tsp. sugar
1 tsp. paprika
2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. celery salt
1/4 tsp. dry mustard
Freshly ground pepper

Whisk together, shake well before using. Serve over greens. Makes 1 3/4 cups.

(And if you want to make scones for breakfast as in the photo above, my favorite recipe is in this post.)

Rightside-up

Plums!

I might as well rename this blog to "Melissa Clark recipes I've made." Honestly, just when I think I'm ready to venture into new cookbook territory, I always fall back into her Cook This Now book. But I do really like her approach to recipes - they're not fussy, the end product is almost always delicious (my one stinker is her recipe for paratha bread, but I think that was because my whole wheat flour had gone rancid), and they don't take forever to make (except for mallobars...worth the effort). I also like that at the end of each recipe, she lists ideas for how to alter the recipe and/or use what you have on hand. And they all have that air of elevating an ingredient that keeps me excited about eating and cooking.

I made this cake this past Sunday. I have found that one of the best ways to beat the Sunday blues is to make sure there's cake at the end of it. Yes, you have to go back to work tomorrow, but first: cake. You see? You must eat your cake before you return to reality.

For this cake, I used the last four black plums available at my neighborhood grocery store. I probably could have used one more, but it still turned out great. The cornmeal shone through, even as the brilliance of the plums took center stage. It was really a treat to turn this rightside-up to reveal the congealed masterpiece underneath.

Upside-down Polenta Plum Cake
adapted from Cook This Now by Melissa Clark

My notes: I used plain low-fat yogurt and cultured unsalted butter and loved the result. I also would recommend taking the yogurt/sour cream out of the fridge along with the eggs a half hour beforehand, along with the butter, to take the chill off so as not to re-harden the butter when you're beating it together. If you don't, however, it will still turn out OK. Just a suggestion.

4-5 large plums, red or black, pitted and sliced into 1/2-inch slices
1 1/2 c. sugar
3/4 tsp. kosher salt
1 c. fine cornmeal (not coarse polenta, strangely)
1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 c. unsalted butter, room temp.
4 large eggs, room temp (ideally)
1/3 c. plain yogurt (low fat or whole milk, greek or regular, or sour cream), not super cold
2 tsps. vanilla extract
Whipped cream or ice cream, for topping

1. Preheat the oven to 350. Line a 9-inch springform with parchment paper and butter the entire interior well.
2. In a large skillet over medium high heat, cook the plums, 1/2 c. sugar and 1/4 tsp. salt, stirring occasionally, 15-20 min., until the plums are tender and the liquid begins to reduce and the whole thing looks like something syrupy you'd drizzle over pancakes. Spread the hot fruit (carefully) into the prepared pan.
3. In a small-ish bowl, whisk the cornmeal, flour, baking powder, and remaining 1/2 tsp. salt.
4. In your mixing bowl, cream the butter and remaining 1 c. sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time and beat completely before each addition. Beat in the yogurt and vanilla.
5. Fold in the dry ingredients by hand with a spatula and pour over the prepared fruit. Bake until the cake is golden and springs back when you gently press with your finger, about 45 minutes.
6. Cool the cake for 10 minutes before releasing the springform and inverting it to a serving plate. Serve warm, at room temp, or cold with desired creamy accompaniments. Good plain, too. Store in the fridge for a few days if necessary.

Two-bottle gingerbread

I've lived here long enough to learn where the afternoon sun hangs this time of year. So does the cat, and she has her seasonal spots by the front window. Right now, she likes the seat of the big green chair. In a few months, she'll migrate to the corner of the rug, unless the dog got there first.

We've been having the best weather. Each day calls for several versions of one outfit - early morning, mid-morning, and afternoon styles. The colors around the neighborhood are warm, the air grips my nose, and the crunch of leaves is still catching me off-guard on my daily walks. I just picked the last of the tomatoes the other day, and just in time: the lightest whisper of frost settled on my windshield the next morning.

And thus, I knew it was time for me to put away my most obvious summer clothes this weekend - the summery dresses that don't transition well to colder months, anything that has eyelet lace, or any item that looks like something I'd wear on a yacht. In my mind, that means thin fabric with stripes, though I'm guessing, since don't have any personal experience on a yacht.

It still may hit 80 degrees these afternoons, but on Saturday I found myself singing, "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas," switching out the word "look" with "smell," because I made gingerbread. The warm spices bloomed in the oven and I convinced myself that it is fall, because dang it, I just reacquainted myself with the sweaters I'd buried and now want to wear again.

This is gingerbread in a bundt pan, gingerbread that is so rich it calls for a pound of butter, and two bottles of molasses.

Seriously, two! I almost thought it was a mistake. But it was so good and tender that if it was indeed a mistake, I don't want to correct it. So just note that if you want to make this as written, make sure you have two bottles or one giant jar of the thick dark stuff.

One particularly spicy and welcome addition is chopped candied ginger. It's mixed into the batter so you get these nice little hot, chewy bits every once in awhile.

The jury's out on the lemon glaze for me. It's a welcome palate cleanser of sorts, something that cuts through the richness, but it was almost too lemony. A simple sprinkle of powdered sugar would be just as nice, though not as pretty as a glaze on a ridgy bundt, which of course you can make without the lemon.

But enough with the notes. Make this and feel good about life.

Two Bottle Gingerbread with Candied Ginger and Lemon Glaze
Adapted from Marie's (Simmons, of Bon Appetit) Rich Gingerbread in Classic Home Desserts

1 T. unsalted butter, softened, for the pan, plus a little flour
1 c. unsalted butter, softened
1 c. packed dark brown sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature
1 3/4 to 2 c. dark molasses
3 1/2 c. flour
2 T. ground ginger
2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. ground cloves
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 c. minced candied (crystalized) ginger, chopped fine
1 c. boiling water

Lemon glaze
1 c. powdered sugar
1-2 T. fresh lemon juice
1/2 tsp. lemon zest

1. Preheat oven to 350. Butter and flour a standard-sized bundt or tube pan and tap out the excess flour. Set aside.

2. In a large mixing bowl, beat the butter with an electric mixer at medium-high speed, until light and fluffy - about 5 minutes. Add the sugar and beat until evenly combined and smooth. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Gradually beat in the molasses with a slow, steady stream, as is its nature, until evenly blended.

3. Sift together the remaining dry ingredients in a separate bowl, and stir in the candied ginger. Gradually add in the dry ingredients to the wet, just until blended with no visible flour pockets. Remove bowl from mixer and with a good rubber spatula, fold in the boiling water in 1/3 c. increments, until all is thoroughly and evenly incorporated. Spoon the batter into the prepared pan.

4. Bake for about an hour, until the sides begin to pull away from the pan. Cool the cake in the pan on a cooling rack for a half hour (it's okay if it falls a little bit). Run a knife around the edges if necessary and invert the cake onto a serving plate.

5. Combine the lemon glaze ingredients - the glaze should trail from the spoon like molasses - slow, but not painfully slow. If it's too thick, add more lemon juice; if it's too runny, add more sugar. With a spoon, gently ladle the glaze over the top and let it trickle down the sides to your liking. Serve warm if possible, or let the glaze set a while and eat it at room temperature. With tea, of course.

It's not summer until...

The annual trip to Priest Lake. Last summer was the first in seven that I had to miss it, due to obligations that come with a new dog and not knowing what to do with her when you go away for a weekend. Fortunately, we've since worked that out, and last weekend was a glorious return to the place that has been so kindly shared with us by our hosts, the Phillips.

You can see by the color of the sky that it was a tad smoky this year from Washington fires. While it made for not-so-great air quality, it did contribute to beautiful sunsets. It was so nice to sleep in (i.e., anytime later than 5:45 a.m.) and spend most of the day in my swimsuit. It always makes me feel like a kid again.

Scenes from the weekend: July 25

At home: Got up early both Saturday and Sunday mornings to watch the final stages of the Tour de France, baked bread, made our very favorite pork tenderloin recipe on Friday night, mixed cocktails, tired my back out on yard work and washing the wood floors, played Mille Bornes while watching a Paul Simon concert and waiting for lasagne to cook.

Out and about: Sunday lunch at Veraci, ice cream at Brain Freeze Creamery and a walk with Luna on the Centennial Trail; Friday night drive (Joel was scouting out a bike ride for the next day) and froyo. We went to the movies and saw Mr. Holmes - I just want to give Ian McKellan a big hug. It was a sweet story, if at times a bit slow-moving.

Reading (trying, at least): Truth Like the Sun by Jim Lynch.

Making: I started on the Moss Landing hat from the Sock Yarn One-Skein Wonders book, continuing on the Using Up My Stash quest.

This weekend felt a little too much like fall for my taste. I can already feel these days getting shorter - the sunrise feels a bit lazy and our evening walks have been cooler. And rain! What? Still, you should see my tomatoes. I can't get over how much they've taken over the garden. And this next weekend - at the lake! - should be hotter and remind me that it is still most definitely summertime.

Quotidian things

The 1940s-ness of this auditorium is my favorite thing about it.

 Homemade pizza dough.

 View from the (college) president's office.

Breakfast companions.

 This is Margot's favorite place to hang out - under my sewing desk.

With the combo of clouds and late-evening sun, it's a pretty lovely world out there.

Pretty much the best dog's best friend around.

WEEKEND: 6.6.14

 When you're walking walking walking and suddenly you realize there are coconuts on the sidewalk.

This flower seems like it belongs in the "Golden Afternoon" scene from Alice in Wonderland, singing with its fellow blossoms.

We recently got hip to the fact that the ice cream shop in our neighborhood serves these Liege style waffles. They're special because they're made with caramelized pearl sugar and are crispy and pastry-like. No surprise: bananas and Nutella taste great on them. I got the version with Greek yogurt, honey, bananas and sliced almonds. We will be doing this again and again.

Confession: these herby and pasta photos were not taken this weekend. The photo above was just a pretty scene on the stove on some recent evening when Joel was flavoring the oil for an epic mushroom sauce. The photo below was from a different meal: pasta carbonara, which I would say fits in the top 10 dishes of my life. Joel picked up guanciale (bacon-like heaven) in Seattle last weekend with the express purpose of making this and other Roman pasta dreams. Seriously.

Okay, back to weekending. There is a woman in the neighborhood who has the most incredible garden with these looooong cone-like flowers I have never seen before. Have you?

 We introduced Luna to the Spokane River. She was like, "Eh."

This was more her speed.

I didn't do a very good job of documenting the momentous things, like our visit with family from Germany, and our trek to Elk Fest to see an old pal headline the Saturday night line-up. It was all grand and over too soon. 

WEEKEND: 5.30.14

Cat tracks always make me happy.

 I think I take some version of this photo every year. I love it out here when the flowers are planted in these little tins I got at Tossed and Found. Geraniums make me sentimental for French flower boxes.

You don't want to know how many pictures I got in this series of cat photos. Sometimes she's just too cute for her own good.

I love an early Saturday morning that features baking bread, a pot of French press and a good book. Check (6 a.m. - thanks, Luna), check (quick-rise white), check (Thomas Hammer), check (The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt. All the rage these days, with good reason.).

Our view at lunch. Cannon Hill Park is just a mile and a half away, and on an 75-degree afternoon, an ideal picnic destination with the dog.

I hardly ever bake/eat white bread, but when I do, I love a gooey PB&J. Extremely satisfying. Plus some leftover Mediterranean chopped salad I took to a work potluck. (Really, really good recipe from Cook's Illustrated a few years back - my new favorite.)

I don't take for granted that my dog is so cool. She's just taking in those ducks across the way and is happy to be by my side.

 Could it have gotten any more idyllic? There's the ice cream truck.

 The dogwoods are fading.

I will never complain about this neighborhood. The houses are quaint, the gardens are old-fashioned, and the sidewalks are craggy from giant tree roots. It's a lovely place to spend a weekend.