final decisions

after much rumination, the super bowl menu for 2013 goes like this:

*homemade whitecastle-style burgers

*sweet potato fries & curried fry sauce

*apple walnut slaw

*chips & guacamole

*root beer floats

*salty chocolate chunk cookies


not that i care AT ALL about the super bowl, but it's an excuse for a party & some kitchen time.

anyone else cooking tomorrow?

i always miss emily this time of year.  one time she made the most delicious whoopie pies ever for the super bowl.  i can't recreate them.

celebrity crush

in a nod to the salty-sweet trend, i sprinkled a little coarse sea salt on top.  luckily, misshapen rusticity is part of the charm of this galette.

jacques pepin has the bearing of a true artist.  when he shows you you how to fold your dish towel just so and tuck it into your apron, or when he demonstrates a tomato rosette, or swans made from pate au choux floating in a pond of raspberry coulis, his loving brown eyes look straight into yours and he tells you:

i love you so much i have show you how to make this in your own kitchen.  how to caress your knife, how to supreme an orange, how to love the materials of my life's work as much as i do.

to me, a true artist is passionately in love with her materials--words, paper, bindings, brushes, knives, fabrics, water, pastels, needles--a true artist is obsessed with her materials, and so the final product and its reception is entirely secondary.

of course, the true artist loves her materials, and so she really, really wants them to be welcomed by an audience.  but, if the audience rejects the product, she loves the materials still, can't wait to get back to them, but work them again, to make them into a new form once again.

that is the true artist.

and that is why i think jacques is a true artist.  he has devoted a very long life to his materials, and he has a beautiful relationship with them.  you can see it.  even on the screen.

and that is why i must recommend this beautiful, simple recipe using spare ingredients and simple but perfect techniques.  it seems a perfect example of french cooking--elegant but practical and efficient with no waste.  and just a very few delicious ingredients.

this is what i'm taking to sunday dinner.  if you need to make a dessert in the near future, give this one a shot.  i have very few recipes i make over and over again, and i really hate following recipes, so this is one of only about a half-dozen that i actually follow repeatedly.

Makes 8 servings

1/2 recipe pate brisée (see recipe)
5 large apples
1/4-cup sugar
3 tablespoons butter, cut into small pieces
4 tablespoons apricot preserves
1 tablespoon Calvados or Cognac (optional)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees

1. Make pâte brisée. Roll out the dough 1/8 to 1/16 inch thick, in a shape that fits roughly on a cookie sheet—approximately 16 X 14 inches. (The best cookie sheets are made of heavy aluminum that is not too shiny.) If the dough is not thin enough after you lay it on the cookie sheet, roll it some more, directly on the sheet.

2. Peel and cut the apples in half, core them, and slice each half into 1/4-inch slices. Set aside the large center slices of the same size and chop the end slices coarsely. Sprinkle the chopped apple over the dough.

3. Arrange the large slices on the dough beginning at the outside, approximately 1 1/2 inches from the edge. Stagger and overlap the slices to imitate the petals of a flower. Cover the dough completely with a single layer of apples, except for the border. Place smaller slices in the center to resemble the heart of a flower. 

4. Bring up the border of the dough | and fold it over the apples.

5. Sprinkle the apples with the sugar and pieces of butter, and bake in a 400-degree oven for 65 to 75 minutes, until the galette is really well browned and crusty. Do not remove the galette from the oven too soon; it should be very well cooked. It should be very crusty, thin, and soft inside. Do not worry about the discoloration of the apples after you peel and arrange them on the dough. The discoloration will not be apparent after cooking. 

6. Slide it onto a board. Dilute the apricot preserves with the alcohol (or use 1 tablespoon of water if the jam is thick and you prefer not to use spirits) and spread it on top of the apples with the back of a spoon. Some can also be spread on the top edge of the crust. Follow the design so that you do not disturb the little pieces of apple.

Serve the galette lukewarm, cut into wedges. 

Pate Brisee
Recipe From: Jacques Pepin 
“Everyday Cooking”

Makes Enough for 2 Galettes

3 cups all-purpose flour (dip the measuring cup
into the flour, fill it, and level it with your hand)

1 cup (2 sticks) sweet butter, cold, and cut with a knife into thin slices or shavings

1/2 teaspoon salt

Approximately 3/4 cup very cold water


“In a well-made pâte brisée the pieces of butter are visible throughout the dough. If the pieces of butter get completely blended with the flour so that they melt during cooking, the pastry will be tough. The flour and butter must be worked and the water added as fast as possible to obtain a flaky pastry. If you work the dough too much after adding the water, it will be elastic and chewy. If you use too much butter and not enough water, it will resemble sweet pastry dough and will be hard to roll thin and pick up from the table; it will be very brittle before and after cooking, sandy, and with no flakiness.

This is deceptively simple dough. You may get excellent results one time and an ordinary pastry the next. Try it a few times to get a feel for it. Wrapped properly, it can be kept in the refrigerator for 2 or 3 days, or it can be frozen.”


1. Mix the flour, butter, and salt together very lightly, so that the pieces of butter remain visible throughout the flour.

2. Add the ice-cold water and mix very fast with your hand just enough that the dough coheres.

3. Cut the dough in half. The pieces of butter should still be visible. Refrigerate for 1 or 2 hours or use it right away. If you use it right away, the butter will be a bit soft, so you may need a little extra flour in the rolling process to absorb it.

For one galette, roll half the dough between 1/8 and 1/16 of an inch thick, using flour underneath and on top so that it doesn't stick to the table or the rolling pin. When the dough is the desired shape and thickness, roll it onto the rolling pin and unroll it on the pie plate, tart form, or cookie sheet that you plan to use. Repeat with the other half or reserve for later use. Bake according to the instructions for the particular recipe.

multi

whisking and editing

a weird combo of happenings tonight.  nothing weird weird, just not our typical sunday night.

kale and meatball soup with cranberry cheddar grilled cheese.

first off, we didn't go to bam's for dinner as she was recuperating from thanksgiving. we had her over here, and i made stock with the turkey bones (i love turkey stock way more than turkey meat), then put together a soup of the turkey stock, kale, mushrooms, noodles, and lamb and sausage meatballs.  it tasted so good.  you just want vegetables after a week of feasting.

aunt bonnie doing dishes in cool tights.

secondly, the simpson's was just.  off tonight.  funny moments, but not the best episode.

compulsive editing & simultaneous cooking.

thirdly, i try not to do work on sundays, to shut off my brain for a day and re-set, but i got really caught up in the paper i'm working on, and kept going back to it and revising all day.  even whilst whipping cream to put on leftover pumpkin pie and bread pudding.

you know when you just finish writing something and you keep going back to check on it and admire it, before the loathing sets in and you realize how crappy it is?  yeah.  that.

well.  good evening, and happy normal week to you all!

legwear: black pointelle tights

inspiration: homer (the poet AND the simpson) and rich turkey stock

looking forward to: yoga, school, and work.  normalcy.

ah

i feel pretty old today.  not in a bad way, just, i don't know, getting very attached to my habits and customs.

also, c. and i went to dinner at 4.45 p.m. on friday, almost missing the senior special.  and a matinee on saturday.

so, yeah, old.

and lately i'm finding all of my satisfaction in the little rituals of the day and the week--the sunday dinner with my family and friends, the end of day reading from gareth hinds' graphic novel of the odyssey with moses, my early, early morning pages, a little daily show, etc.  nothing exciting at all.  just

really

nice & comforting.

nothing wrong with that, right?

i don't have a lot of big ideas, either, just details recorded and confined in the little space of the poem i write every week.

&, like julie, i haven't processed what the year-long project of keeping a daily blog has meant, either.

things don't add up the way i thought they would.

it seems like my project now is to try to forget what i thought should happen and pay attention to what is actually happening.

it's surprisingly hard to do.

silent family dinner

sunday dinner at bam's is the best.  matt always sports an untied bow tie.

tonight we sat at the wednesday family dinner table, eating silently, listening to radiohead, each of us lamenting a kind of hard and boring day.

bammy's chicken marbella & fab hair.

but we did it anyway.  we sat and supped.  i made dinner, got everyone together, and ate. and we talked.  a little.

the view from bam's deck.

some nights are so happy and loud, some nights stressful, some nights surprising or funny.  you never know.  & you'll never find out if you don't do it.

here's my little plug for sitting down with your family every night you can.  & a plug for making that happen as often as you can.  it's a small but significant anchor in the day, and it puts everything in it's place.

sunday dinner in fall.

i know julie eats frequently in the living room of her amazing  city.  i eat in my suburban kitchen.  either way, it's the sitting, the talking, and the being together that counts.

i love to know what people eat for dinner, what they talk about, what time they eat, what they listen too, any details, small and large about this quotidian event.  i want a giant list of dinner details.  dinner for one, dinner for two, dinner for ten.

so share if you have anything.  anything at all.

go ahead & make my day a little less boring!

a moment of calm

lantern night at bryn mawr.  they're singing a song to athena and  the frosh are getting their official welcome to the school.

 today i had brunch and a visit with one of my favorite people in the entire world.  i scored a huge zucchini, some tomatoes, and some green tomatoes on my way home from her house.  tomorrow i'm making a chocolate zucchini cake and fried green tomatoes for our jack o' lantern carving night.

the lanterns.

tonight julie's hunkering down in nyc getting ready for sandy, and i really, really hope the storm on the east coast turns out to be all hype.  right now, ingrid's participating in a stormy  bryn mawr lantern night, which sounds pretty magical.  one of the major regrets of my life that i didn't go to a magical women's college on the east coast.  i don't think i really even knew such a thing existed when i was in high school.

c.'s watching the end of the world series.

a full moon just rose over our beautiful, beautiful mountains.

cecily is telling moses a bedtime story.

we had dinner at bam's, which is our sunday night ritual during the six months of the year she's in the u.s.  the kids adore bam and their cousins, and usually grace us with the performance of an original play.  other traditions include a game of oh heck!, a a game of charades, and an episode of the simpson's.  it feels good to be back in our routine.  it kind of reminds me of those british novels when people go to london for "the season" in fall and winter.  with the arrival of bam, our season has begun.

love and good wishes going out to the east coast tonight.

xxoo

september sunday

sunday shoes.

i love sundays.

i love getting dressed up for church.

i love the family meals, the sermons, the sunday playlist, the sunday times (even though it's become such a bougie rag), and best of all, the new episode of simpson's.

it's the last sunday in september, and here's a list:

1.  sermon:  sister b. tells the children that when she was a child she was full of fear.  "if you're full of fear, you can tell someone.  and you can learn to overcome your fear. you can learn, like i did, that 'perfect love casteth out fear.'" me, cecily and my mom were in a row on the pew, three gals who went through a lot of fear and anxiety.  we loved the message.  & brother j. told about fear, too.  the fear he was hearing in the daily farm reports on the radio due to this year's drought.  "until a couple of weeks ago," he said, when it turned out that the crops didn't fail, and there was "unexpected excess supply."  i will think about unexpected abundance this week.

sunday crepes

2. crepe bar with mom & dad and the family, inspired by our friends the olivier's who once, years ago, had us over for a crepe buffet:  "the americano" (pb & j), ham & cheese, etc.  our selection included salami, sharp cheddar & mustard, lemon & powdered sugar, and nutella.

new haircut

3. lula got a new, chic haircut.  my baby's growing up.

4.  simpson's--homer just said:  "if you need me, i'll be taking a popcorn bath.  it's something i read about in a men's health magazine in a dream." julie, it's set in nyc, and there's a scene on the highline.

5.  dinner with bam and the jasplund's--chicken on the grill with matt's magical dry rub.  i cut my finger on a mandoline while makng coleslaw.  then after dinner drive up the mountain to see the sunset and the lights of provo coming on.

to aunt bonnie

cecily assists aunt bonnie in blowing out her candles

tonight was aunt bonnie's birthday dinner:  pork tenderloin, purple slaw, cucumber, garden tomato & feta salad (thanks for the tomatoes, janell!) sour cream & chive mashed potatoes, rolls, corn & pies from grandma beth, peach crisp & homemade ice cream. it was almost like a little house on the prairie dinner.

but i digress. the important thing tonight is to tell you a few things about my amazing aunt:

1) she is one of the foxiest and most stylish women i know.

2) she started and ran her own business for thirty years, a beautiful flower shop and boutique that brought an extra dash of class to provo.  she did wedding flowers for redford, covey, & osmond(s).  she was named provo chamber of commerce business woman of the year in the early 2000's.  my first job was "working" for her, when she would let me make "corsages", etc.

3) she adopted a beautiful son from honduras when he was four, as a single mother, and raised him by herself.  upon his death, she started a foundation in his name in tegucigalpa to help honduran kids get an education.  recently, a young man she helped got language for the first time at age fifteen.  he was deaf, and had never been able to go to school to learn signing or reading.  because of my aunt, he now has massively increased communication.  as long as i can remember, she has been helping a lot of different people, friends and strangers alike.

4) she loves adventure:  hiking, traveling, being on the move.  she's pretty darn fearless.

5) she has been a great friend, helper and companion to me for my whole life.  and now to my children.  i'm very grateful to have her in my life and to get to live near her.  she is a great strength to our family and community.

a micro/macro macro/micro breakthrough

filled up morning pages notebooks, my artist's shrine, and cameron's book.  some of the tools.

on june 11, 2012 i started julia cameron's artists' way--a twelve week program of writing morning pages every day, taking yourself on an artist date every week, and completing exercises to figure out why you might be a "blocked creative," or why you might not be living up to your full artistic potential.

when i started, i hoped to have some sort of huge break through where, finally, i would figure out what my "true" artist's calling was.  eventually, i realized this artist's way process felt a little like what i was taught to do as a religious young person in order to gain a sure knowledge of the gospel of jesus christ.  in my religious training, we were taught that if you read the word of god every day, had a sincere desire, prayed day and night, fasted, "went into the wilderness," either literally or figuratively, you would be given the gift of sure knowledge.

i know many people, in fact, many people who are the very most beloved humans in my life, who have a sureness and a belief that they would be willing to die for after completing the steps outlined in the religious training of my mormon faith tradition.

the book

i completed my checklist, the studying and prayer, fasting and meditation, but this kind of big, unshakeable truth, a burning in the bosom, to borrow a phrase, never manifested itself to me.

perhaps my idea of what should have happened, what should have been revealed to me, blinded me to what was learned instead.  since i was focused on one outcome, i may have failed to notice other equally good outcomes. 

i started feeling this same way about midway through the artist's way.  that there was a specific way i should be feeling, a specific kind of break through that a "good" artist would have in this process.  this is not necessarily anything to do with the book or the program itself.  i'm pretty sure it's my own context and mindset that produced this feeling, this obsession with other people's breakthrough stories:  so-and-so had a huge breakthrough in week 8, so-and-so discovered that she should _______ and she sold__________ and moved to________ and started a ________________.

i admit, i got fixated with other people's artist's way break throughs.  i also admit that i'm still really obsessed, and i'm dying to hear other people's stories about this.  but, in the end, i had a different sort of break through, one that's still in process, one that i'm still trying to understand.

i finished the twelve week program today, september 2, 2012.  i had a lot of micro-insights, and a few larger ones as well.  here's a short summary of some of the things that came from working through morning pages every day for three months:

today's big picture: sunday dinner old school.

1) micro/macro:  i learned that i need to continue focusing carefully on the micro.  i've written about this many times on my blog, and it's a realization that i started coming to a few years ago.  for me, a focus on small, daily, affirmative actions creates the greatest amount of artistic productivity in my life. when i have grandiose plans, when i try to control a project with grand plans and ideas with a capital "I", my projects tend to fail or burn out. i decided, at least for now, to continue with the mode of working in micro-bursts, as this will best enable #4 on this list.

farmer's market salad--again!  heirloom tomatoes, cukes, cilantro, avocado, feta & vinaigrette.

2) walking blind: the mountain i'm climbing is one of those depicted in a beautiful japanese scroll-- enshrouded in clouds.  i'm climbing in a mist, one step at a time, and i can't see the guru, the mountain peak, or how far it is to the top.  or even if there is a top, a guru, or a place worth climbing to.  it seems my path has something to do with faith, working one letter at a time, one footstep at a time, without knowing for sure what it's all for, except:

3) the deep breath in & the deep breath out:  i've learned i really have to pay attention to the moment i'm in, not the one that's coming, not the one that's already happened.  the literal deep cleansing breath is one i take many times a day to remind me to stay in the moment.  what does it mean to live a moment fully, beginning to end?  i don't really know, but it's something i'm working on, and it seems like it's important to continuing to get work done every day.

finishing salt and rosemary rolls.

4) multitudinousness:  i'm learning to be okay with a multitude of answers, paths, and outcomes. there doesn't have to be one.  i'm a little (sometimes a lot) jealous of people who have one clear path or obsession.  that has never been clear for me, i've always jumped around in my pursuits and had many, perhaps too many, interests.  now i'm working on figuring out what that means for the work i need and want to do while i'm on this earth.  i love poetry, cooking, music, film, performance & caring for my family.  i want to do all of those things in some capacity, and well.  i don't know what that will look like, finally, only that

tomorrow i'll do some yoga and meditation and morning pages, i'll work on a poem and read a poem, i'll practice some music and write some scenes for a film project, the meditative part of my day will start again with cooking dinner and sitting at the table with my family, as we do on most days.

the most caloric mashed potatoes in the world with mushroom gravy & roast beef.

this is what i'm starting to understand right now, after working daily to have more insight and to be more productive as an artist.

i can't wait to hear the wisdom of some other people out there.  how do other people keep their work moving forward, integrate worthy pursuits with daily life, get inspired?

hearing these stories what keeps me going.

xxoo

plenty season

i dig ingrid's orange lipstick with the vintage '70's maxi my friend alice made & wore in the actual '70's.   it has tiny buttons all the way down the back and butterfly sleeves.

the produce is so abundant that i was hard-pressed to use it all before it languished.

baba ganoush, salad and lula's green goddess dressing.

there were aubergines, two big ones, so i made grilled eggplant and baba ganoush.

there were avocadoes about to die, so lula made a green goddess dressing to go with our salad of greens, peppers, cucumbers, and tomatoes.

taylor makes a beautiful plate

the requisite famous utah peaches and corn, which a person feels desperate to gorge on before they're gone.

utah peaches & corn are legendary

& a half-gallon of cream to be used (i've been making ice cream like crazy this week).

honey vanilla ice cream.  i have a crush on my new ice cream maker.

fingerling potatoes to be roasted.

adorable baby potatoes

salmon and steak on sale, but so many vegetarians.  we grilled it yesterday and served it cold with the salad, which was nice on such a hot day.

a crush on the grill, too.

i love sunday here, with all the dresses, the roses, the after-dinner bike ride to my favorite spot on locust lane, to an empty field where the buildings clear out and you can see the valley lighting to the west and the mountains to the east.

and a crush on sunday dinner.

it's the sweet spot of the world.  the navel of the world.

the sweet spot of dinner--grilled peaches & homemade ice cream.

today was the day i knew summer would wane.

how much longer?

today i felt like i dropped into the sweet spot of the season,

the sweet spot of summer.

& like it couldn't get any better.

weird a.d.h.d. reading list

my hand and eva's hand after mother's day manicures in nyc.  today we'll be cooking sunday dinner together.

i don't know if i can be officially diagnosed based on this list, but here's a (partial, mind you) list of what i read this morning:

1)   about the recent massacre in syria, front page on the nyt.
2)   the script for episode 4 of the pilot season of house.
3)   the last three poems in the kabir book that eva gave me, plus the end notes.
4)   front page article about afghan opium trade in sunday nyt.
5)   this article on passing by rilla askew from world literature today.
6)   my own two poems, written last week.  made a few revisions, too.
7)   checked in with dooce blog to see if i still hate it.  it's still pretty good and i still kind of hate it.
8)   wikipedia entry on area 51. turns out i'd already read it. . . .
9)   the salt river-maricopa pima website.
10)  get off my internets blog.
11)  regan's blob (nothing new up today :().
12)  excerpts from susan howe's the midnight.
13)  several recipes for tres leches cake.
14)  the article about ann romney's relationship with her dressage coach (wtf, nyt, is up with your continuing unexamined relationship with race, class, and gender--why this article is on the front page eludes me.  next to the one about the murders of 32 syrian children.)
15) article by jennifer nix on poetry and illness from poetry foundation.


legwear:  black tights.  it's freezing outside.

inspiration: so many words, and journalists who risk their lives, poets who lay them bare.

looking forward to: sunday dinner with friends and family.

sunday ten: an unsacred sabbath

my baby sister takin' me for a post-swim bike ride.  change is constant.

1.  pediatric after hours clinic
2.  antibiotics at walgreen's
3.  burgers and limeade at sonic
4.  a couple hours of grading interspersed with
5.  the sunday new york times
6.  tin tin with the kids
7.  kate's homemade bread and angel food cake
8.  chicken marbella dinner
9.  hours of conversation with family & old friends
10.  mad men with marni (!) ((who drove down from seattle on a whim yesterday))

yes, julie, the posts keep coming, fast & furious, forcing me to stay awake more than usual.

legwear: bare, espite the april chill

inspiration:  the constancy of change

looking forward: to yoga tomorrow

tell what you know: don't sing, sang

(this clip is super tight.)


yesterday i heard an interview with ruthie foster about her recent collaboration with the blind boys of alabama.  she talked about how when you sing with the blind boys, "you don't sing, you sang."  she talked about her experience singing in the church and how it was her main event--it's your chance, she said, "to tell what you know."





(watch this whole long video.  it's such a beautiful embodiment of community, of walking together with each other & the spirit.)


today is my favorite church day of the month.  first sunday (or "sundee" as the elders around here pronounce it), fast sunday, testimony day, the day to tell what you know.  our church discourages clapping, singing, speaking in tongues, dancing, and all the fun stuff that some people get to do at their churches (i earnestly pray that this will change some day). so going where the spirit takes you is, well, it can't take you to far out of the bounds of an amen at the end of (never during) a sermon.

so fast sunday is the day to break out a little, to hear from those who might go a little too far out of bounds.  but it's their chance to tell what they know, and there's nothing i enjoy more than this in my worship services.  (i admit i like it best when someone is willing to say something "inappropriate."  maybe something that we all think, but we don't wanna say?)

today a brother told how he felt more confident when he sang between two congregants who are also professional musicians, how he suddenly became a better singer than he actually was.  a sister told the stories of the people she shared a surgical waiting room with as she waited for her own mother to emerge from surgery in taiwan.  a teen told how her volunteer work at the deaf school always made her day a better one, and three other teens testified that they felt god's love, and knew they were not alone with the scary feelings they were having about their futures.

these are the stories that my brothers and sisters don't tell me in every day life, so i love a day set aside for telling and hearing--for the reminder that, in a congregation, you're not alone.  someone is there to hear what you say.

& i am by nature a doubting person, a timid person, so testifying from the pulpit is not really something i can do.  but at least i can witness it.

and what i know today is that the telling and hearing of stories, the witnessing of each other's stories, is without a doubt, one of the best ways to observe your sabbath.  however, whenever, and with whomever you choose to do it.

if you feel inspired, tell what you know today.

inspiration:  telling and hearing, together

looking forward:  sunday dinner at bam's

tights:  boring charcoal, but i did see at church:  windowpane, horizontal striped, floral, tie-dyed, & white eyelet.