In With the Old, Out With the New

It’s been a bit more than six months since I embarked on my grand adventure to start my life over from scratch, and while this has been an utterly daunting adventure at times I have found myself blessed with a little bit of luck and a lot of hard work and persistence paying off.  However, it’s taken me a healthy six months to realize I never spent any time at home anymore doing the things that defined me for the better part of the past five years.  I admit that finding that balance between old and new has always been a challenge for me – the allure of reinvention is simply intoxicating.

However, slowly but surely I found a groove and along with that came a place to sit, a place to eat and a place to really live.  My home is always a work in progress, but this last move is the hardest I can ever remember and I had difficulty even figuring out where to start.  The irony in all this is that I see so many of the fantastic friends I’ve made over the years coming here to the city for completely different reasons, but bringing us all together again in ways I never imagined.

And so, this past week, I did what I always loved and never had many opportunities to do in Arlington – I threw a dinner party.  Lots of things went wrong, but they always do – I had to stay late at work, there was a line at the market, it was sleeting and I was on day eight of my cold (colds always seem to last ten days for me).  So I turned back to the classics and made what I consider one of life’s ultimate comfort foods: Potato Leek (and Celeriac) Soup.

I make no excuses for my unabashed love for the starchy tuber – it is that food that makes me feel human after the world has done its best to strip that from me, and there is something that radiates love and comfort around nearly any and every preparation.  The soup takes around 45 minutes to prepare from start to finish, and is so remarkably simple for something that drips decadence.  Both guests requested the recipe, and so I thought I’d post it here.  Be warned though, when I cook I allow the ingredients to dictate the levels of spices and seasonings, so make sure to consult with your veggies as to what they may need a little more or less of today.

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Getting Back in the Saddle Again

Looking back on the last post I am both embarrassed and amused by the length of time that’s passed and the foreshadowing irony in the title, but after a rather wholesome, recharging and craft-filled weekend I am ready to get back into the swing of writing, appreciating and documenting the little things again.

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Sometimes You Just Need a Cupcake

So until I get my act together and get photos of my newly knitted sweaters (still on track – February is being seamed now, and March is down to the sleeves and neck binding), you are getting a slightly modified cupcake recipe that I recently whipped up for a friend’s birthday.  I found myself in the position of not knowing enough about her baked good preferences to whip up one of my more quirky options (Lavender Meyer Lemon Cupcakes, anyone?), so I searched and substituted until I found a solid vanilla cake recipe that serves as a reminder that sometimes simplicity is best… and then I can make whatever flavored icing I feel like at the moment.  This time in a nod to winter citrus I chose a light and slightly tart lemon cream cheese icing.

I like moist, light and fluffy when it comes to cakes – not dried out, not sopping with oil, but something that is a few shades denser than a sponge cake that will stand up to icing.  Also, the quality of vanilla used is essential – imitation vanilla extract is a big no-no in my kitchen.  I’m willing to pay a premium for something so understated, yet so make or break to many recipes, so I tend to stick with Penzey’s.  In my mind (and mouth), it’s totally worth it.  With these comments in mind, I present you with my recipe for simply perfect vanilla cupcakes with lemon cream cheese icing.

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Creative Goals

The holidays always blow through with such a sense of massive chaos that I’m left winded by January.  This year was perhaps even more intense after lots of traveling and house-guests which lasted for just about a month straight.  It’s always fantastic to see everyone and feel the holiday cheer, but there comes a moment when I just want to hermit up in my craft room and take time for myself to create, think and reflect.

This year, I wanted to really focus myself on specific goals for my hobbies because I collect them like others collect carnival glass or postage stamps, and if I’m not careful they’ll fall by the wayside in a tidal wave of possibilities.  So this year I decided to focus on my knitting and set the goal for a sweater a month in 2010.  No, I am not going to attempt to do a fairisle sweater a month, but something reasonable, in a yarn I love and a pattern I truly want to wear.  This is partially inspired by having the worst time finding sweaters this winter and realizing that four warm sweaters aren’t enough to get me through six months of Arctic Tundra-like weather.  Also, I knit so many scarves and socks over the holidays I’m a bit burned out on them at the moment.

January’s sweater is almost done, and as soon as I can get it photographed, I’ll put it up with information on where to get the pattern, yarn and any interesting bits I ran into along the way.  Hopefully by the end of the year I will be a sweater whiz and ready to move on to the next big thing in my hobby life, and who knows what that might be.

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The Home Dairy

The kitchen has finally cooled off enough that I want to be in there again, or rather, the temperatures in New England have dropped so fast that I find myself wanting to use my oven and stove top for added heat.  I know that I have a lot of “odd” hobbies, but probably the one I am questioned about the most frequently and with the most enthusiasm is the concept of the home dairy.

While I wish I had cows or sheep or goats, I don’t and I can’t where we currently live, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have oodles of local dairies to choose from for raw materials that are treated with more care and respect for the product than the supermarket or big-box store brands.  Anyone can make cheese and yogurt at home, and it’s really not that difficult with the right tools and a little practice.  Perhaps the easiest I’ve found is making yogurt at home – it’s simple and it’s inexpensive when you look at the quantity and quality of product you get, and the supplies needed are minimal.

First, you will need an incubator of some sort – I use the Yogotherm available from several online retailers.  I used to use the plug-in multi-jar models when I first started, but the Yogotherm is one giant tub and uses no electricity, which means easier maintenance and clean-up all around.  Then you need a starter – I’m partial to Bulgarian starters which you can re-culture for a month or two using your first batch of yogurt.  Also, active/live bacteria cultures are a good thing.  Next comes the milk.  I prefer whole Jersey milk due to the higher fat content and richer flavor and texture, preferably from a local dairy.  The only milk that absolutely will not work is ultra-pasteurized because basically the milk has been blasted with so much heat that it no longer chemically resembles milk and the proteins have been utterly mangled.  Honestly, I stay away from that stuff with a ten foot pole at all times if possible – I’d like to keep my milk nutritionally intact, thanks!  If you want to use low or no fat milk, be aware that your yields will be much lower, and you’ll likely have to fortify the mixture with non-fat dry milk solids (not to mention that it will taste nothing like Fage Total, which is my ultimate goal).  A stainless steel pan, dairy thermometer (reads lower temperatures) and stainless steel spoon will round out the equipment arsenal.

The procedure is fairly basic, and you certainly don’t need to be handy in the kitchen to do it.  First, heat a half-gallon of milk to 180 degrees Fahrenheit  over medium heat.  Next, pour the milk into the Yogotherm “bucket” and let cool to between 110 and 115 degrees Fahrenheit.  Add in one packet of starter culture and stir or whisk to combine.  Put the top on the Yogotherm bucket, place the bucket in the insulator, and put the insulator in a non-drafty warmish (room temperature or a bit more) area for 6-8 hours.  The longer you let the yogurt sit in the incubator, the tangier it becomes.  Remove the bucket from the insulator sleeve, and put in the fridge.  Congratulations!  You have yogurt!  If you want to make fancy Greek-style yogurt, simply get a super-fine cheesecloth (not the kind you find in the supermarket, but an actual cloth used to make cheese – more like muslin) and scoop the regular yogurt into it and let hang to drain for 1-3 hours.  The whey will drip out, and you’ll have super thick and creamy yogurt remaining.

Yogurt isn’t a hard concoction to make by any means, and when you add some honey or homemade jam to sweeten far surpasses anything you can buy in the supermarket and it’s local, sustainable and healthy to boot.

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Fall is all about the oven

Here in New England, our harvests are coming in particularly late due to the cold and wet start to a rather short summer season, but starting in early to mid-September the bounty really hit the pavement in full force.  The farmers markets ceased to look picked over at openings, and instead crates and barrels of extra veggies line the center thoroughfares making things even more congested than normal.  I couldn’t be happier, although I’m wishing I had an even bigger refrigerator and actually finished reading that root cellaring book already.

This weekend was full of rain and dreariness which is just a part of October and November here.  The grey skies are almost comforting, and the rain isn’t yet frigid (it was actually warmer outside than inside).  However, the cooler temps do signify one major change in my domestic habits – the oven becomes the pride and joy of this home.  Not only do more delicious things come out of it more frequently, but true to the New England style I try my damnedest not to turn on the heat until November 1st (yes, even if it is in the forties at night) and it becomes the primary heating element of the house.  Chilly?  Bake some cookies!  Freezing?  Roast a brisket!

It wasn’t that cold outside this weekend, but the cold nights chill down the house more than I’d like so in went a bone-in, skin-on chicken breast roasted over fall root vegetables (parsnips, rainbow carrots and purple potatoes to be precise).  I was taught the secrets to roasting chickens by my dear friend Emily T., and I’ve been at it with a passion ever since.  It’s a signature winter dinner guest dish even.  Needless to say, I was thrilled when a new meat vendor showed up at the farmer’s market (Chestnut Farms) toting an extremely reasonably priced, humanely raised, open pastured chicken breasts for roasting (it’s the favorite cut in my house).  It’s a simple dish, all in one pot with very little cleanup making for a wonderfully satisfying cold weather meal.

This was, of course followed by a blackberry pear crisp (just to keep the oven going a bit longer) for dessert.  The beautiful thing about all of this is everything (save the oats, sugar and spices) for the entire meal came from within a 100 mile radius from my house (or sourced while on vacation – the blackberries were from Pat and Bill’s delicious thornless!! patch).  I try to eat local when I can and source sustainable ingredients whenever possible,  and I’ve found that over time it has gotten easier and easier.  You learn to preserve, not focus all of your efforts on one stop shopping once monthly mega-mart trips and utilize your freezer for more than just popsicles and ice cubes.  And I’ve got to say… it tastes so much better that way too.  I don’t think I could ever go back to “normal” American style food shopping again.  I’ve spoiled my taste buds beyond the point of no return.  Just to keep from being accused of being a “food tease” (yes, this really happens), I am including the two loosely based recipes for dinner and desert below.  Enjoy them with gusto, and if possible try to support your local farmers – keeping them up and running and around for years to come is for the good of us all really.  Just think – there would be no pastoral landscapes if all the meat in the world came from the mile long steel sheds and millions-of-gallons manure lagoons of the industrial meat industry…

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Living History

I currently live just outside of the city, in a town that’s not quite a suburb but not quite urban either.  We still have public transit, and we have just enough space to eek out a couple of small gardens, but you can still see into the neighbor’s house through the window and there isn’t a whole lot of true peace and quiet to be had.  Some days I feel embraced by the city and enjoy the hustle and bustle.  I enjoy the convenience about not needing a car to go to the market, the drugstore or a few nice restaurants.  I love that a great number of our friends have moved within close proximity, so now I run into friends (and can visit them more easily) on a more regular basis.

But deep down, I miss having space of my own.  I miss nature being just out the back door, or in the driveway or eating every last beautiful flower out of the garden (okay, maybe just the novelty of seeing a deer eating the flowers is all I miss). I miss not being able to hear my neighbors conversations just because we both have our windows open.  Oh, the privacy!  One day, I have the pipe dream of moving to a grand old house in the country.  I suppose I’m just not a new construction kind of girl.  I want to feel the history seeping through every floorboard and finish.  To know as I make a pie crust by hand, I’m likely the tenth generation to do so under that roof.  To come home everyday to a house that was built by hand decades ago with all of the intricacy and detail that is completely absent from modern construction.

History is absolutely a tangible thing in a structure.  The old Victorian homes of New England creak and groan uniquely from one another, each telling the story of those who have inhabited them before; the polish on a wooden banister made by years of hands, or the divots in the center of stairs from years of footsteps. There is a kinship and warmth that comes from these houses, regardless if it has been passed down from generation to generation or bought and sold repeatedly.  There is a sense of peace as well – you are not the beginning nor the end, but instead a moment in time – which makes life seem that much more bearable and less stressful.  The machinations of a household repeating over and over, year after year bring a sense of stability that no economic bail-out or stock portfolio can do right now.

But what do people do to support themselves while living in a grand old home in the country?  I feel tied to the city because of our career choices, all the while wanting to escape it for something simpler; purer.  Do I drop everything I’ve learned in the city to do things more appropriate for the country?  Spin wool instead of picking textiles?  Thinking about these two vastly different lives accentuate in my mind the disparity in this country; the lack of understanding about how things are actually sourced, made and created.  The concept that even average people can and have made extraordinary things.  I already skirt the line of the bizarre for living so close to the city – I knit, sew, can, preserve and grow my own vegetables.  I love having people come to help me dig potatoes – the look of excitement is undeniable as they see the piles of tubers emerge from the mostly dead, yellowed plant above.  It’s a basic pleasure that so few get to actually experience, and I’m more than happy to share however I can.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get my grand old homestead, but I’ll do everything I can to cultivate those same joys in my home now and in the future.  Even in a modern kitchen, nothing beats the smell of soup cooking in the winter or pies in the oven over the holidays.  Life really is about the little things in the end, I think, even if it is often the big picture that takes our breath away… but in the meantime, I suppose it can’t hurt to dream.

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Cultural Collapse Disorder?

I’ve been going around looking at all different shapes and sizes of blogs that are doing things similar to what I want to do here, and with a very few exceptions the majority seem to be nothing more than product placement pages.  Now, I am all for promoting the small business owner, craftsman or artisan (as I hope to be one myself someday), but isn’t that saying something particularly telling about our lives and cultures today?  It leaves me with a funny taste in my mouth and the question of why must we buy things or think about buying things to feel validated?

I don’t want this blog to turn into product placement.  There are enough people out there who are apparently more than happy to do that.  I used to read Design*Sponge every day, and about a year or so ago I noticed that it was nothing more than a product list of upcoming (or already arrived) designers with the occasional content piece thrown in haphazardly.  I’ve hopped on over every now and again since then, and I’m hoping the infusion of new blood will help up the content again instead of just posting more things to want or buy.  Lord knows I know how hard it is to come up with content on a regular basis, which everyone can obviously tell from the sporadic posting here.  Still, which is better – quality or quantity?

I don’t have answers – I don’t even fully know the depth I want this blog to encompass yet – but I do know when I see something I don’t want.  There is a part of me that truly misses the days before the internet and widespread cell phones even though I fully embrace connectivity for the most part.  I miss having time to digest information before someone demands a response.  I miss people having time to fact-check what they say before broadcasting their opinions to the nation or entire world.  But on the other hand, I love the fact that I can much more easily find pockets of people who share common ideas and interests – I don’t miss the isolation and ostracism of my youth in the slightest.  I wonder now that we’re all inundated with information and stimuli that it isn’t all about finding balance… knowing when to shut off the cell phone or do something outside instead of sitting in front of the TV or video game console or computer.  By not being chained to a cubicle for nine hours a day, I find myself much more able to step away from the computer.  Much less needy for the constant information to keep my brain awake while doing repetitive, fairly mind-numbing tasks.  This doesn’t even encompass the fact that I lost ten pounds within six weeks of being free of the office and look healthier than I have in the last five years, or the increased mental stability and balance I’ve been able to cultivate.

The country is jumping on the organic bandwagon from beauty products to food; clothing to home products.  Why is it then that businesses are so adverse to an organic environment?  Why do we shy away from an organic lifestyle?  I’ve yet to work a job where I’m not left twiddling my thumbs on a regular basis because I work efficiently and businesses, by nature, are not.  Why not just pay someone to do their job, do it well, and however long it takes them is however long it takes them?  Why not pay for quality of work instead of quantity of time?  I don’t think I will ever understand why people are viewed as a commodity, as a resource which is uniform and equal when they are most definitely not.

It reminds me of a snippet from the book “Fruitless Fall” which is about the growing Colony Collapse Disorder epidemic of honey bees plaguing the United States.  The author talks about how when placed in a “natural” hive (one mimicking the shape of a hive in nature), the Italian honey bees relearned how to eject the varroa mites naturally, which has been a problem plaguing them for years in the Langstroth hives (the box-style, uniformly regimented artificial hives) where they just seemed to ignore the mites altogether and resulted in devastating the population in the infected hive.   Perhaps I’m making too loose of a connection or not taking into account enough variables, but what does this say about people who are forced into the regimented monotony of big business?  Those virtually living a cube farm for the majority of their waking hours?  That they just forget how to take care of themselves?  That they just trudge on, day in and day out without regard to the parasites that are eating away at them?  I can’t say I have the answers, but this most definitely struck a chord.

I’d much prefer to live an organic lifestyle.  To have time to be a person.  To have passions and goals that don’t revolve around the latest “it” gadget or “must have” product.  I am a consumer, yes.  I still love shopping.  But I’ve noticed in the last few years that instead of buying mostly products, I’ve shifted to buying materials, supplies, ingredients or components.  I want to be able to provide for myself, to understand the process to make what people want and need.  I can’t hope to learn everything in a single lifetime, but I sure as hell can try.  And from what I’ve experienced so far?  It’s far and away more satisfying in the long term for me than just going to the shop and throwing money at my wants and desires.  I am excited and infused with ideas and possibilities, looking forward to the adventures in life.  Isn’t that what living is all about anyway?

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Fall Swept In and Knocked the Wind Right Out of Me

Fall gives me very little time to myself, very little time to mull and ponder and very little time to do any sitting around.  Fortunately or unfortunately, fall has swept in a bit early this year or maybe it’s just the extra-lateness of Labor Day that’s throwing me off.  The temperatures plummeted as everything else exploded.  I got a bushel of absolutely gorgeous plum tomatoes for sauce making from Latham’s on Long Island, my freezer was bursting with gallons upon gallons of berries (it figures that the year which decimated my garden by the end of July was the one to have a bumper crop of berries) and gosh darn it, I picked up a new hobby which perfectly corresponded with the new chilly nights (how did I ever get along with only one scarf before?).

This means I have been up to my ears in domestic projects.  I successfully put up thirteen pints of tomato sauce, which caused far more duress this year than previously as apparently my vintage jars have decided to start exploding mid-water bath.  There is nothing that sounds more like nails on a chalkboard to me than the sound of a mason jar exploding in a vat of boiling water… but it’s even worse.  It’s the sound of hours of hard labor going completely down the tubes.  Needless to say, much colorful language ensued in spite of the fact that my visiting mom was actually in earshot.

After a nice long skulking tirade about the sauce fiasco, I decided I was tired of using an old carpet runner to keep my chest freezer shut (yes, it was that full) and put up about twenty jars of blackberry jam.  That was at least (mostly) stress free.  They even set up properly, which was a relief after the issues I had with my strawberry jam in June which had finally managed to set sometime this week.  Jams really shouldn’t take the better part of two months to set, but I’m glad these finally did.

I also had gotten a shipment of plants courtesy of Pat and Bill, so there was also an entire day out rearranging the front garden to fit in all of my new pretties while getting rid of some Home Depot sale table hostas the previous owners had practically covered our full sun front yard in.  I think I managed to put a crack in the hickory handle of my shovel attempting to get one out that was nearly three feet across.  Of course, I got distracted part way through when a detour to the back yard to plant some gorgeous perennial begonias happened and I ended up digging all of the potatoes out of the vegetable patch.  The yukon golds and red bliss’ must’ve caught the blight bad, as I think I only got about six or eight of them total, but the “mistake” la rattes, bless their little tater hearts, performed beautifully again.  The mistake was I never actually planted them.  I must’ve missed some seed potatoes when I dug them out last year, and they nestled their way into interesting patches of the garden which ended up in 10+ pounds of fingerlings for me.  With the late blight claiming half of my garden this year, I am not complaining in the slightest.  I have learned my lesson – always order seed potatoes from Seed Savers Exchange because their stock will kick the local garden center’s stock’s tuckas.

…and I haven’t even started to get into the fact that I finished my first scarf and am two feet into the second (and much more complicated) one.

So today I need to just sit back, breathe and remind myself that I am not an awful human being for not yet getting to the drapes that need to be hemmed for the bedroom, or that wrap skirt, or those eggplants in the fridge that I really just need to hold out for a couple more days so I can make a few trays of parm for freezing for easy winter meals.  It will be okay, life will go on and no one will hold it against me that I keep shoving a few projects back into the dark corners of my house and mind so I can attempt to barely manage to keep up with the bounty of the season.  Oh, and don’t forget making a trip out west to go to the yarn warehouse of course… all of that hard work definitely deserves some kind of reward!

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Stitch-n-Bitch

While I was down on Long Island I sat down with my mother to do something I’ve been meaning to do for ages but never really had the time or mental space to accomplish – I finally learned the basics of knitting.  I know, I know… I have a problem with collecting hobbies like some collect original issue Star Wars action figures.  But this is really something I’ve tried to do a few times, but do to various stresses and pressures it never really fully sank in, and I’d get frustrated and never finish the little piece that I started.  I think I’ve done this two or seven times already.  So instead of picking up the not-so-nice ball of acrylic yarn leftovers from the 80’s which I have tried to learn knitting with the past three times, I went to the new local yarn store in the town my mom grew up in to get something halfway decent that I could actually make an item with.

Why, oh why hasn’t anyone told me about little local yarn stores before?!  Now, I suppose I should preface this by saying that I sew.  I sew actual garments that I wear out in public (without shame, mind you), and occasionally tailor things for friends and family as long as they don’t mind my pinch-n-stitch method.  I have a fabric stash – a mighty fabric stash.  One might even go so far to say that I have a fabric problem.  But it’s all good – I’ll use it eventually right?  If the apocalypse happens, I’ll be more than prepared enough to outfit myself and my closest fifty friends for the remainder of our natural lives or fifty years, whichever comes first – this just isn’t the type of disaster preparedness that the Red Cross and federal government have been pushing in the last eight years.  But back to my point – the local yarn store may be my undoing.  The textures and colors are simply sumptuous, and if your local yarn store is worth its weight in salt there won’t be a thing in there that you don’t nearly immediately covet.  This sensualist immediately found herself in yet another version of heaven.

Wouldn’t you know that good yarn helps you to actually learn to knit as well?  I bought a hank of Cascade 220 in a grey on grey twist to make a nubby seed stitch scarf, and after only just over a week I’m down to an apricot sized ball of yarn and desperately trying to teach myself how to bind off so I’m ready when the time comes.  There are only two errors, and I figure if I take my sewing skillz and do a little applique and embroidery work, no one will ever be the wiser.  It pays to get decent materials, and somehow even through the mid-90 degree heat this past week I diligently sat in the mornings and evenings knitting away.  Thank the heavens that I have a very patient and hobby-tolerant husband.

I came to find something else – knitting can be as relaxing as many claim it to be once you get into a pattern.  No, I can’t knit and watch TV or hold an engaging conversation yet, but the blankness in one’s mind as the pattern repeats in your head is oddly soothing.  It’s almost like the meditation phase of hatha yoga where you clear your mind and focus solely on the present, taking each thought that enters your mind and letting it go.  

There is a certain peace in this.

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