Condolences

On my nightstand:

Two things happened recently. Last weekend, I went to a library book sale in Hendersonville. Seven years ago, when I first went, it was like winning a big prize. This was the stuff of dreams, I tell you. This was what it must feel like to be a fanilow and meet barry manilow. It is this big wonderful book sale where on the final day, the books are $4 a bag (a brown paper grocery bag). They are organized by subject. I went with my Mom and Susan and sometimes a friend or grandparent. We each got a quota of 2 bags because that was how many fit in the car. Then we would come home and spread out all those piles of books on the floor and read. When I moved to Texas, I thought about it each fall. When I moved back to NC, I put it on my calender. And last weekend my mom, grandma and Susan spent a few hours in the mayhem.

It has gotten more popular over the years. The books were more picked over (sadly, there were no fabulous cookbooks this time).It was like the Christmas sale at the Wal-Mart in Rutherford County or a tax free shopping day in Texas--people used their elbows. They had strategies. They had maps of the book sale. They had shopping bags with wheels so they could get around the book sale with their loot easier. Except it was books, so there was this veneer of politeness. This "we are bookworms, we don't push." Except they totally did push. One lady had a stroller. No baby, just a stroller full of books. It was silent, save the sound of books being scooped off the shelves and people saying "ooops, sorry" and stepping right on your toes.

Still, it was a rush. I got a bunch of authors and anthologies that I've been wanting to read or own--Milan Kundera, Alice Adams, Andre Dubuse, Lisa See--keep in mind everything is so cheap and everyone is scooping things up at such a fast pace, you just get in the zone. And sometimes your greed makes you pick up something that you never knew you wanted. Like etiquette books. I got some books on words, some on language, some gardening books, and then there were three on manners. I don't know what came over me, but I felt I needed them. I got the classics. So I've been reading etiquette books. Particularly the chapters on death. My night stand looks a little ridiculous. I look at it each night and laugh: three etiquette books and a vampire serial novel. (Yes Eclipse is on my nightstand. Still. I'm kind of sick of it. But I refuse to turn back now.)

Which brings me to the second thing that happened. A colleague died exactly two weeks ago today on campus. His wife is also a colleague and her office is around the corner from me. I like her. And I have watched the institution where I work respond in a way that is kind and good. I have thought about what I would do if I were her. She has been thrust into the spotlight-something that I'm not sure I would want. She has handled everything with grace. I have wanted to help her, but not contribute to the clutter of attention that surrounds her now. She is young. I'm used to old people. A casserole seems wrong. I sent the least ugly sympathy card I could find and have made an effort to offer "normal" conversation but not hover and not clutch her hands and say weird philosophical things. I was floored and flattered when yesterday, she asked to do something not serious, something light. So while the etiquette books didn't tell me anything I didn't learn from my own experiences with death, they gave me a little template for how to act. They gave me a plan. Today this article crossed my path and (no offense to amy vanderbelt or emily post or judith "ms manners" martin) it is the best advice on the art of condolences I have found. Plus, it references elephants (my spirit animal since I read this article on post traumatic stress in elephants).




To cook this weekend:
pepita dip
Swiss Chard Lasagna

Take the pepita.

The pumpkin seed.

Actually, take 2 cups of them.

Add
2T olive oil
2 garlic cloves (thinly sliced)
1 15-oz can (or fresh, peeled) tomatoes (juice squeezed out)
1t whole cumin seed (toasted and ground--if you use ground from a shaker nobody will die)
1 bunch scallions (white and green parts roughly chopped)
2 med jalapeno peppers (seeds and ribs removed, roughly chopped--I have to admit that because my local market was out of these babies, I added instead my favorite bottled hot sauce.)
1/4t cayenne pepper
3T fresh lime juice
salt & pepper to taste

There's a little art and organization that goes along with this recipe. But first, a story:

Francisco is a friend and man about town who knows just about everybody. He knows how to have fun, and often it's kicking off the weekend by DJing at the fresh and trendy local vegetarian restaurant in town. He also cuts my hair.

Francisco and I run into each other at the local grocer from time to time. We usually set up my next appointment, chat about which bands are playing around, and sometimes, if we're fortunate, we toss off a quick-and-yum recipe. Yesterday, I was the lucky one--he passed this one along (he'd snagged it from one Alyssa--see how this works?)--he'd just had it the night before at a little "soiree."

He said "pepita." I said "pumpkin seed." Anyway, I found both, and mixed and heated and processed em up, in this order:

1. Heat olive oil in a med skillet over med heat. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add the pepitas and cook, stirring frequently, until the seeds begin to pop and turn golden brown, 6 to 9 minutes. Transfer the mixture to a baking sheet to cool. Set aside 2T of the seeds for garnish.

2. Place the pepitas and the garlic in the bowl of a food processor and process until fine, about 15 seconds. Using your hands, squeeze each tomato to release as much juice as possible. Discard the juice. Add the tomatoes, cumin, scallions, jalapenos, cayenne, and lime juice. Process the mixture until thoroughly combined and chunky. Season with salt and pepper. Serve immediately. The dip may be made a day ahead and kept in an airtight container in the refrigerator. Bring to room temperature before serving.

Aye caramba. It's good.

Cuppa pharmakon (aka 5 Minute Chocolate Mug Cake)

While Ab cuddles up with articles that educate and books that make her say Boo! to big fellas who wanna carry her bookbag, I'm getting into deep trouble in my kitchen.

Here's why:

5 MINUTE CHOCOLATE MUG CAKE (courtesy of Linda Cisco by way of my cousin Tammy).

Here's what you need if you want to simultaneously ruin and make your day:

4 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa
1 egg
3 tablespoons milk
3 tablespoons oil
3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional)
a small splash of vanilla extract
dash of cinnamon (optional)
1 large coffee mug

Before I give you the directions, I'll just tell you, from start to finish, the process really does take five minutes. This is a dangerous thing, obviously.

Five minutes.

It's enough time to get me out of one mess and into another. You see, I was writing today. And writing to me (as it is to nearly every writer I know) is pharmakon, which, to grossly and irresponsibly simplify it's meaning, is both poison and cure. And if you want more on this, see Plato's Dialogues. (Or, for the lazy and/or time-crunched, you might check this out to start.)

And while writing keeps me (and nearly every writer I know) from feeling crazy, it also, according to David Gessner--in that article Abby's reading (courtesy of Tina and Abby's colleague Matt)--causes us to be crazy.

"After all," writes Gessner, "there’s something basically insane about sitting at a desk and talking to yourself all day, and there’s a reason that writers are second only to medical students in instances of hypochondria. In isolation, our minds turn on us pretty quickly."

This is where the 5 MINUTE CHOCOLATE MUG CAKE comes in.

Right before my mind could "turn on" me (4:30p), I ducked and dodged my way into the kitchen. I figured five minutes...clearly the perfect amount of break time to save my sanity.

Trouble is, this 5 MINUTE CHOCOLATE MUG CAKE is just another pharmakon, the bastard.

So what we have here is me, standing in my kitchen, after five minutes of prep and two minutes of cooling, with a fork in my mouth, wondering when did my life become so filled with danger and philosophical (and medical) intrigue? And just who in the hell came up with this marvel, this, this, dream cake that's nearly as easy as opening the (microwave)oven or refridger door and wishing it there.

Anyway, all in a day's work, I guess. And here are the directions for that 5 MINUTE pharmakon. Beware. It's dangerous stuff.

4 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa
1 egg
3 tablespoons milk
3 tablespoons oil
3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional)
a dash of cinnamon (optional)
a small splash of vanilla extract
1 large coffee mug

Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well. Add the egg and mix thoroughly. Pour in the milk and oil and mix well. Add the chocolate chips and cinnamon (if using) and vanilla extract, and mix again.
Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts. The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed! Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired.
EAT!

(This can serve two--in case some poor creature lives with you and has to put up with your mental challenges...or if you need another break before the insanity sets upon you, again, which it will).

My Nightstand

I'm a one book kind of gal. My nightstand houses all the books I want to read. But I only read one book at a time. And right now that book is book three in the twilight series. I know there are a billion jillion problems with this series, not the least of which is that it right now it feels pretty sexist--the kind of sexist that makes my neck hurt, that makes me want to burn my bra and never let anyone help me carry something heavy and unwieldy, the kind that makes me want to take care of myself and never rely on anyone else. What I like about it, what I'm learning as a writer, is the same thing that I like about all series books and shows. I like that the world becomes more detailed that suddenly there is a whole history and mythology to this other world. I felt that way with the Harry Potter books too. I started for the love and for the monsters and now, now I want to know more about how Jacob's great grandfather became a werewolf.



So mostly what I keep next to me on my night stand are short stories and articles. Lately, I've mostly been reading articles.

Is Google Making Us Stupid is the article my reading students read for today. We then looked at non-academic texts--cheese it boxes, assembly instructions from IKEA, credit applications, recipes, sheet music, hoodia diet pill testimonials from magazines, advice columns, etc--and talked about how we read these texts. And then we talked about which of the 17 different texts our grandparents would have encountered when they were 18. I think the reason why I like d this, is because it makes me feel a little better about my totally unoriginal fascination with famous writers' processes. It also makes me wonder if I'm blocked because I'm not writing in longhand anymore or if it is because everything in my world is new. And it oddly made me miss being a grad student. Getting to sit around a big table and talk about technology in this weird detached way.

And this
is that I'm about to read. It comes courtesy of Tina and my colleague Matt.

More fiber fun: Fuji

So I've been thinking about Fuji--the apple not the mountain. It's my favorite apple--for its color striations, its sometimes lopsy-round shape, its dense-crisp-sweet-tartness. They say it's a cross between two American varieties--Golden Delicious and Virginia Ralls Genet. I say, The Fuji is the largest, juciest, un-mealiest, long-lastingest apple I ever did eat.

I hear that in Japan, Fuji apples continue to be the unrivaled best-seller. The story in China isn't so different. My favored Fuji has got the apple world by the seeds: annually, it accounts for 80% of China's 20 million tons. In the States, the Fuj now grows in Washington, New York, and California.

But enough about the stats. Taste is what counts.

Here's a "recipe" using my fave, the Fuji. It's so quick and easy, you'll be recommending it around town in no time.


Easy Apple Appie

1-2 Fuji apples
lemon wedges
fresh cracked pepper

Slice apples thin, swipe top side with lemon, arrange overlapping on serving tray, crack fresh pepper on top. Serve with your favorite cheeses.

I'll see your "old faithful," and I'll raise to...

my face and eat em all up.




They look pretty good, don't they? (see with flash, and without). They taste pretty good, too. Though I wish I could find my beautiful-bran-bomb recipe to compare.

I made a few substitutions in this game (recipe experiment) because my field (kitchen) is missing a few players (ingredients).

Example: sugar=sucanat; skipped the coconut; used raisins and dates for fruit; walnuts for...nuts, duh; replaced the bananas with half and orange, its zest, and a Fuji apple; I added cinnamon.

I baked for 15 minutes in this weird new silicon muffin thingie. Now that I've tried what the 21st century has come up with, I know I prefer plain ol' fashioned aluminum, fyi. This silicon stuff is wriggly and seems untrustworthy.

In the end, the results look and taste snack- and guest-worthy.

Yum.

Abby dear, what do you think I should let them in on next...the cool and easy Fuji apple appie, or something stove-belly hot?

Old faithful

Stacy has asked me for the muffin recipe. And by the muffin, I'm guessing she means the high fiber muffin recipe that my mom found in a coffee table book about simplifying your life. We can't find the coffee table book, but the recipe lives on. I think my mom and grandma eat a few of these a day. Warning these little treats are pretty high in fiber. They pack a punch.

So here's the recipe, some variations and pictures (soon!)

It makes 12.

Preheat oven to 450

line muffin tins with muffin papers (I spray cooking spray on the papers b/c the muffins like to stick to the paper)

combine:

2 and 1/4 cups of oatbran
1 teaspoon of baking powder
1/4 c sugar (doesn't matter much what kind--you can use maple syrup or brown sugar--one of these days I'm going to try some molasses)
1/4 cup of coconut
a handful of fruit (dried, fresh or frozen and chopped. If I use fresh or frozen I only use one handful, if I use dried I use two)
a handful of nuts (I haven't been adding nuts lately but crumbled walnuts or pecans are good as are slivered almonds)

in another bowl combine:
2 ripe bananas, mashed (I'm thinking about trying this with sweet potatos and or apple sauce in lieu of bananas, depending on your need for sweet tasting muffins and the fruit you choose--fresh cranberries are sour, you might have to adjust the sugar/liquid content if you did this. But I think a yam banana mixture would be pretty)
1 egg or two egg whites
1 1/4 cup milk

Mix the two bowls together. Pour the batter into muffin cups. Bake for 15-20 minutes. They don't really brown much. They don't really rise much either.

Some substitutions I want to try. I think it would be good to add a little citrus zest. I want to make them with buttermilk instead of milk, and I want to substitute grated carrots for the coconut and use canned pineapple for the fruit.

When I make these for old people or people who don't like a muffin that isn't greasy and sweet like a cake, I double the bananas. Or I spoon a streusel mixture (oats, melted butter, sugar, and sometimes, nuts) to the top. Sometimes I put a big piece of fruit or a nut in the middle of each muffin (like a peach slice or a banana slice or a whole walnut. Then they look fancy.
Because I make so many of these muffins, I have been running out of those muffin paper things that line your muffin pan. The coffee shop I go to puts their muffins in squares of parchment paper, the paper sticks up and looks pretty and sort of architectural. So I’ll probably experiment with that (and maybe post some pictures.)