Making it in Toledo

Baking Day

I started baking bread regularly about 15 years ago, during a time when much of my life seemed out of control and letting my mind wander while putting my hands to work with flour, water, salt and yeast was a great comfort. I suspect that’s been true for many women over many centuries.

Today, the whole world seems out of control.

I like simple breads. Flour, water, yeast, and salt. Sometimes I’ll add herbs or nuts or dried fruit, and quite often I’ll add oats or rye or some other grain. Mostly it’s white flour with a little whole wheat thrown in to make me feel virtuous.

After a summer hiatus, I’ve revived my sourdough starter. It’s still a little wimpy, so today’s bread had the benefit of some commercial yeast too. I let it rise in bannetons, baskets lined with flour-dusted kitchen towels. One round loaf baked in my old cast-iron Dutch oven, which belonged to my sister Martha. One long loaf straight onto the baking stone.

It’s a good thing no one in my family is gluten-averse, because baking bread is a joy for me and I can’t eat it all myself!

“Avoid those who don’t like bread and children.” (Swiss proverb)

gratitude

My car was towed tonight. Actually not my car; I was driving Johanna’s car since she was driving mine. It was my own fault. I know better than to park in the Ferdo’s lot, even though it was empty and the Stubborn Brother lot was overflowing. I couldn’t miss the chance to celebrate with Sam Melden; his primary performance was outstanding.

Lindsey gave me a ride home and John drove me to the tow lot, where I paid $165 to retrieve the car I had parked not 2 hours earlier. Actually, since the tow truck drive/lot attendant didn’t have $5 in change he gave me a $20 so I only paid $150. I suspect that this is a rather loose operation.

Today was CSA pickup. My CSA bucket was in my car, which was in Akron with Jo, so I bundled the fruits and vegetable into an assortment of bags. It was also the night I picked up the 15 chickens (about 50 pounds) which we will enjoy throughout the winter. Fifty pounds of chickens is a lot to carry.

I am grateful for Sam’s willingness to serve. I am grateful to Lindsey for giving me a ride. I am grateful to be a customer of Shared Legacy Farms and to receive beautiful fruits and vegetables every week. I am grateful to Weber Ranch for pasture-raised chickens.

I am grateful that even after a surprise expenditure of $150 we will all sleep indoors tonight and no one will go hungry.

It’s 11:05 pm on September 10th and all is well.

Ready for August

The last day of July. FB is reminding me that it’s Sue Wuest’s birthday. I’m sorry that she won’t be celebrating it with us. I lost Sue’s friendship long before she died, and it’s always painful to be reminded of the finality of that loss.

We have travel plans in August (lake house in Michigan) and in September (time share in the Berkshires). It’s looking like I may miss most of our our modest tomato crop and probably a couple of great CSA boxes. But in return I get a week with all my kids together and a pontoon boat on a nice little lake. I’ll take it. Traveling to western Massachusetts will take us through parts of New York State that hold great memories for us. Maybe we’ll even schedule a visit to Ithaca and lunch at Moosewood. With the (over) abundance of kale (from my CSA) and carrots (overenthusiastic Costco purchase) in my refrigerator, I’ve been turning to Moosewood lately for inspiration. Try their carrot salads!

Middle Eastern Carrot salad with mint. Dressed with lemon, oil, and maple syrup.

Last night I finished reading The Weight of Ink by Rachel Kadish. If you love history or if you love philosophy or if you just enjoy a good mystery, read this book!!! Especially if you like reading about strong women.

The bulk blueberry order I picked up last night is helping me think about the end of summer. I’ve put most of them in the freezer. But I haven’t given up yet. David Lebovitz’s recipe for blueberry cobbler is waiting for me this afternoon.

The warm sunny days have been great, but today’s clouds are motivating me to be out and about. I’m grateful for all the choices before me.

Independence Day Struggles

I used to look down on people who shopped through Amazon. I considered it unethical to spend money without trying to keep at least some of it close to home. That’s not an attitude I can afford to take any more. I still have localist leanings, but the pile of boxes in my entryway gives it away. I want things that aren’t available in local stores, and I like the convenience of tracking them down online. Isn’t it ironic, on Independence Day, to be so dependent on Jeff Bezos?

I’m still a localist, though, when it comes to food and my garden. My garden is not particularly colorful, but it is beautiful, and I gladly share it with the birds and the pollinators. No poisons, both for reasons of ethics and to protect myself and my family. Less gladly, I occasionally share with the deer. Ethics didn’t stop me from being grateful when the herd was culled. Along with occasional hired help, I maintain my garden and am eternally grateful to the guys who helped build it many years ago, Tom Schoen and Craig Wilkowski. When I spend time weeding, I know I’ll be achy and stiff for days, but sometimes I need to feel virtuous and hard-working.

My yard is too shady to grow vegetables, but my Shared Legacy Farms CSA provides seasonal organic ingredients. We eat a lot of meat free meals and I buy responsibly raised meats. I cultivate a range of herbs that make it into most meals. This year I’m particularly enjoying chervil. There’s milkweed for the monarchs, and the birds love perching in the fig tree.

“Ethics is nothing else than reverence for life.” Albert Schweitzer

As an American, I am ashamed of my country, but I am trying to be an ethical individual.

Ruling the WOrld

It’s a Sunday in June. Here are a few of the things that make the day wonderful:

Peonies are blooming. And the grape irises. Roses are budded. Water in the frog pond is clearing, thanks to barley pellets. At the feeders I see hummingbirds, orioles, woodpeckers, blue jays, sparrows, cardinals, catbirds and tufted titmouses (titmice?). And, less happily, greedy grackles (Loi says “crackles”)

Some, but not all, of the tomatoes I planted are flourishing. Some re-planting and re-placing will be necessary. As always, it’s good to know that we have our CSA for actual food, because I am no farmer.

I rarely harvest much, but I am unable to stop trying.

Olivia is with us this week. We’ll see Sam next weekend for the big 4-year birthday party. So lucky to have children who visit.

Finally managed to schedule a much-needed plumber visit for tomorrow, thanks to Johanna, who is sick and tired of the ribbon-powered alternate arrangement of the flushing mechanism.

It’s a small world, plagued by mosquitoes, poison ivy, weeds, and the occasional marauding deer. “Ruling it” translates to lots of work on hands and knees, pulling out the small plants that don’t belong in the brick paths or crowding the herbs and flowers. But it grounds me and gives me the energy to help make the larger world better. I am grateful for it.

Time to give emotionality a chance?

Kara Cooney’s presentation was part of Toledo Museum of Art’s national Geographic Live series. She is a compelling speaker, and I was enthralled by her description of women who indeed ruled their world, ancient Egypt. I was even more fascinated by her analysis of why we (yes, we) have such a hard time with women in positions of leadership. Can you see the slide above? Cooney summarizes by suggesting that fear of women’s emotionality has been a major reason for our powerlessness.

So many things to think about. Cooney points out that even when women are in positions of leadership, we still “serve the patriarchy” and protect the status quo. And when we stop doing that, we are eliminated from leadership. This resonates with me and largely matches my own experience.

I’ll be reading Cooney’s book, When Women Ruled the World, and I expect to learn more, but honestly what I want is the chance to talk with other women about these ideas. Who’s in?

Garden lessons

I welcome daylight savings time, as it seems like one of the first signs of spring. I’ll be checking my gardens for snowdrops today and hopefully I will see early leaf buds on the spirea hedge I attacked last fall. Spirea is a flowering shrub that has been very popular for generations, including whichever generation planted our hedge between one hundred years ago, when our house was built, and almost forty years ago, when we moved in. It’s said to be very hardy, but requires more maintenance than we gave it. The branches had grown sideways and become entangled, and the plants hardly bloomed at all. So last year, in a burst of energy, I cut everything way back. I think the variety we have is Van Houtte. From what I’ve read, if we water and feed the hedge this year, it may fill in and eventually be beautiful again.

Holding out hope for this and the rest of the 12 spireas that make up our hedge…

We also have red-twig dogwoods, which we planted to replace a crabapple in the front when it went down in a windstorm, several years ago. In order to encourage the red color, it’s necessary to periodically remove at least a third of the old branches. I did that last year, ignoring the dangers of scratched arms and occasional exposure to poison ivy. The effort paid off; I love the red shoots that replaced the old, brittle branches I cut off.

Enjoying the color of this and the other red-twig dogwoods I planted and pruned…

Is there a metaphor here?

Perhaps reluctantly influenced by Marie Kondo, I’m determined to prune my interiors, too. I don’t require that everything spark joy, but I’m hoping to remove enough clutter to encourage a bit more calm and relaxation in certain rooms.

Maybe not a third of the old stuff, though…

Maybe I just like to chew…

Lately I’ve been craving comfort food. Along with everybody else, I’ve been making soups and stews and cheesy casseroles. That’s the sort of food I remember my mother making. Today I decided to make a cake I remember from my childhood, Velvet Lunch Cake. I have an old, stained and torn recipe card, but I decided to google it, too. There it was: sour milk, a little bit of molasses, warm spices. Shortening. I remember my mother using Crisco, but the google result suggested Spry. I opted for butter. The posted recipe omitted the flour, which could have led to disaster but somehow was not mentioned in the handful of comments.. Instead of “chopped raisins” I used dried cranberries and diced dried apricot.

The cake was just as I remembered it. Not too sweet. Sprinkled with confectioners sugary in lieu of frosting. A tea cake, a snack cake, a cake to share in the mid-afternoon because dinner seems so far away.

I like to think that fifty years from now someone will remember Velvet Lunch Cake.

All food is comfort food. Maybe I just like to chew. Lewis Black

Seeking suggestions…

“Always be a beginner at something.” Damon Brown

Last week I attended a book launch party and met Damon Brown, author, consultant, and entrepreneur. I bought his new book, Bring Your Worth, and also an earlier release, The Ultimate Bite-Sized Entrepreneur Trilogy. A veteran of multiple start-ups, Brown offers advice and tips to non-traditional entrepreneurs.

I do not think of myself as entrepreneurial in the least, but I’ve just read some great advice. In a chapter called “After the Win” Brown points out the vulnerability that follows a victory and cautions: “Always be a beginner at something.” That’s a message I need to hear, and I heard it loud and clear.

Last week for a family birthday I made this cake, slightly adapted from Nigella Lawson’s version. It was wonderful. I knew it would be wonderful, since I’ve made it multiple times. Last night for a dinner with friends I served “Vaguely Vietnamese” pork tacos from a NYT recipe. Delicious, but no surprises.

It makes me happy to do something well, and often that something is cooking/entertaining. For a few weeks I want to be a beginner more often. Maybe new recipes and new ingredients. Maybe more adventurous guest lists. Maybe something non-cooking-related. Not crazy things (I’m not an athlete and I don’t enjoy watching sports) . Not things that feel like work. Fun things.

Suggestions welcome.

Cold, but organized…

I grew up in New York State’s North Country. Below-zero cold was not unusual. Mountains of snow were the norm in the winter, although we were actually north of the “snow belt” which lies east of Lake Ontario. After every big snow, my uncle Howard (“Brig”) Young would come by with his snowplow-equipped Jeep. When he left we had a clear driveway flanked by snow cliffs from which we occasionally dug play-caves (an activity that would certainly be discouraged today). I remember all-over-frosted storm windows and using a hair dryer on car doors too frozen for the key to fit.

These days my car has a remote starter and heated seats, but I am still dreading the frigid weather predicted for this week and considering the option of cancelling all my appointments on Wednesday. Perhaps I’ve become addicted to comfort.

There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. Jane Austin

After a couple of days of being comfortable at home, though, I find myself inventing errands. ” I should really go to Costco for gas while the price is low.” “I need to go to Target.” “I’m all out of sweet vermouth.” Crucial things like that.

After several years I’ve adjusted to being retired. But, because John was still working until a few months ago, I still knew what a weekend is. The absence of a work-imposed structure is a mixed blessing, I’m still trying to accommodate that, and I’ve ordered a new tool to help me. I love to-do lists. I’m a doodler. I take notes in meetings to help me remember what I’ve promised to-do. And I have a real weakness for blank journals. As a result, I have stacks of cute notebooks but often can’t find the info I need. So I ordered a refillable Filofax organizer in pillar-box red. When it came I was shocked by the size and weight of it; apparently I had overestimated both how much info I want to record and my willingness to carry it around. My purchase is on its way back to the warehouse and I’m eagerly awaiting its replacement, still pillar-box red but half the size. I’m hoping it helps me to feel organized. Cold, but organized.