When I'm Right......

My husband is a very good person. He is a wonderful husband and father, which is not news to anyone who knows him. But he's also committed to the rest of his family. When word came down that his grandmother was about to celebrate her 94th birthday and neither his father nor his brother could attend the festivities, my dear husband made plans to travel to Oklahoma City for 4 days. I think the weather alone at the end of July would probably kill me, but he's clearly stronger than I am.

We dropped him off at the airport yesterday and then couldn't resist a peek at our fair city's celebrated newcomer nearby. You'd think we were hosting the Olympics or something. We went, we bought a few things to make our home more streamlined and Swedish (as if!) and it was a scene but now we can say we've been. Those folks do have a way with color and I fell in love with some of the fabrics by the yard, so I may well make the trek again one day. What I cannot understand is why, when one covers the entire the entire 280,000sf store and finally makes it through checkout and to the exit, there is no conveniently placed coffee cart outside the door. I think I would have willingly paid $10 for an iced Americano at that point to prop me up for the long journey back to our car. The boys were calling it "the IKEA death march".

All I could think of at that point was water and shade. We had an errand to run downtown and I decided to take the kids to one of my favorite childhood spots. The Lovejoy Fountain is tucked away in a part of Portland where the former shtetl was flattened by 1960's urban renewal. It was a spot I loved as a kid--there's water, of course, but it's also a space where one can scale heights, rest near a tranquil pool, get splashed by rushing water, and (not to be missed) float one's Crocs from top to bottom. The boys kvetched on the way there of course, assuming that the fountain would be dull. Our brief stopped turned out to last much of the afternoon. All the kids got soaked, the pigeons got a lot of mediocre Swedish oat crisps, and everyone was happy (except The Spouse who was stuck all afternoon in the Salt Lake City airport, poor fellow). I love it when my hunches are correct!
We picked up some Indian takeout and came home to fill out the meal with homemade naan, pakoras, mango lassi, and carrot halvah and spent the evening watching Lagaan, the best 4 hour anti-imperialist Bollywood cricket film you could ever hope to see!

Ratatouille Follow Up

The ratatouille has been delicious and we've been eating it all week. The Spouse came up with a brilliant idea for the last of it last night: he took about a cup and half of leftover ratatouille and threw it in the food processor with similar amount of fresh ricotta, heated it, and served it over pasta. Quite tasty!

Biggest. Knitting. Ever.

Last year I started a prayer shawl for a good friend who was going through a hard time. It's a simple, subtle rib pattern based on the number three and I found the knitting to be very relaxing and soothing. I wanted it large--because what comfort is a skimpy shawl? I had no idea when I started just how much knitting I was looking at and it didn't really dawn on me until I held up the finished object and it was ....big. Really big. I'm kind of astounded that something that large could come from my needles.

Every time I sat down to work on it, I tried to turn my energy toward this friend and send her good thoughts, even if I had only a few minutes to knit. It's been almost finished for a couple of months and then for some reason I set it aside. I kept nagging myself to get it done and then letting the project languish. I knew that it could bring my friend no comfort until it was finished and yet there it sat until last weekend when I knew it was time for it to be done. I was working through something very hard myself and the process of finishing the shawl and adding the fringe was exactly what I needed. It hadn't occurred to me before that I needed this as much as my friend did. I felt such peace when I finally tied the last lengths of yarn to the edge. Now it is with its owner and I hope she'll always feel loved when she wraps herself in it.

What Really Matters

So why doesn't anyone talk about Hillary's styling expenditures?

Birthday Cake

The Dark Lord turned 14 today. He celebrated the day with a good friend watching the latest Harry Potter film. No parents needed this time around, but who can keep a mother from making a chocolate cake?

This is surely the simplest frosted layer cake I've ever made. First the cake batter and then the frosting is made in the food processor which is quick and tidy. I love it when I don't have bowls all over the counter. But it isn't just about the convenience-this is actually a delicious cake: rich and flavorful, but not heavy. I'm not big on frosting, but this really is quite yummy and you can, of course, use whatever fancy chocolate you can find. The recipe was written for 8" pans and I have only 9" cake pans so a little math was done to accommodate my slightly larger pans.

The next time someone needs a chocolate cake (and surely someone will soon) please give this a try. The recipe is here.

Another Birthday

Summer is non-stop birthday fun in our family. Today we celebrate The Dark Lord who's now (gulp!) 14 years old. Sometimes I can't believe how the time has flown since he looked like this:
but other times it seems as if he's always been with us. Yes, he's gotten taller but it's amazing to me how much of the baby is still there if I look. The same fixed, calm gaze and the sweet mouth. He was never a risk-taker and never hysterical and he remains sensible, thoughtful, and calm to this day, but with a silly side that can pull us all into his goofiness.
I remember being 14 and even though I become exasperated with him, he's handling it all with far better sense than I did.

Motherhood has been acutely on my mind recently and he's the boy who made me a mother, the child on which I tried out my first attempts at parenting, the guinea pig, really. His siblings have him to thank for whatever refinements his father and I have developed at his expense.

I feel light years away from that hospital room where I labored, completely overwhelmed with the intensity of bringing him into the world. I had no idea what was waiting for me as I crossed from where I was before kids to where I live now. Parenting is such an all consuming place that I have very little perspective, but from what I can tell, things look good for this child of mine. He is bright and creative and I am enjoying watching him spread his wings. Happy birthday, my sweet boy. May this year bring you only good things as you grow into your strength and find your way in the world.

Mosaic Monday

A little darker than usual, befitting the grey midsummer doldrums within and without.

Ratatouille and a Fruit Tart

Did you see the movie? I loved it--the darling French rat with gourmet dreams was absolutely charming. Technically, the movie was brilliant, and the story was great. But....what was with the signature dish? Ratatouille all tarted up to look sleek and elegant? I'm sorry, but I don't think so. On the other hand, I don't like it all slopped together, either, so it comes out like a lumpy pizza sauce. I've had some lousy ratatouille in my time and really what I like best is my own which is based on a recipe by the ever fabulous Deborah Madison who always seems to know when to simplify and when it's really worth the fuss. Despite being not terribly photogenic, this dish is worth the fuss.

We hit the farmers market today and came home with all the necessary ingredients: eggplant, zucchini, peppers, and tomatoes, all of which were gorgeous. At home I began the slicing, salting, and sauteeing. It's a long process, but sauteeing each vegetable separately in olive oil and then baking them together gently is what makes the dish so delicious, especially topped with reduced pan juices for extra flavor. We'll eat it served with polenta, fresh bread, and locally made goat cheese.

All the fresh fruit at the market was calling out to me and I was inspired to make a simple fruit tart for dessert. It's an old family recipe: a simple, buttery dough topped with summer fruit to which I've added one small (but delicious) flourish. I know my great grandmother would certainly have approved of the thin layer of barely sweetened cream cheese I added between the fruit and the dough.

Fortifying

I don't have a whole lot to say right now other than sometimes things just suck and you have to face them anyway. But it's best not do so while hungry. Earlier in the day I made salad rolls for the family dinner, but when I came home from work fairly trembling with hunger I knew I needed considerably more substance than was enfolded in the diaphanous wrappers.

A quick tour through the cupboards revealed nothing and then I remembered the quinoa tucked away for safekeeping in the freezer right next to a small packet of pine nuts. I discovered quinoa last year during a period of doctor-ordered dietary restrictions. Quinoa was the only new thing I tried that I continue to eat. I love its golden color and crunchy texture. It's outstanding from a nutritional point of view and it cooks up more quickly that just about any other whole grain.

With feta from the fridge and a dash out to the garden for parsley I came up with a simple dish that was sustaining and comforting. Just what I needed tonight. No doubt everyone needs a dish like this at some point. The recipe is here.

Party Food, Part Two

As far as I'm concerned, nothing says "party" like a platter of dolmas (stuffed grape leaves). And since we were indeed having a party, I knew what I had to make.

I first started making these years ago when we had actual grape vines of our own. Home-grown leaves are definitely best, in my opinion, as you can pick the shape you want and brining is unnecessary. But since I have yet to get any grapes planted it was off to my favorite local Balkan/Slavic/Middle Eastern deli where I was able to get pre-mixed henna in a tube along with my grape leaves. All this and "helpful and knowledgeable stuff"!

When I've had to buy leaves, they've always been wadded up in jars so when I saw the definitely not eco-friendly vacuum-packed plastic bags I thought I'd come across something so brilliant that I'd forgo recyclable glass. Since the leaves were packed flat, I reasoned, surely they'd be intact, less ripped and mangled than the jarred variety. Of course I was dead wrong. Most of the leaves were too small to use, and others were ripped to shreds. Nearly all were so deeply notched that I actually had to double roll many of the dolmas just to hold the filling. And they were so salty, even despite repeated careful rinsing. As you can imagine, I was in a fine mood after spending an hour an half fighting with the cursed things. But none of this mattered the next day when I arranged them on a sunny yellow platter and waited for guests to arrive. They quickly disappeared into the mouths of hungry revelers who kept asking where I'd bought them. I just smiled ever so humbly when I confessed that I'd made them myself.

Many folks use meat in the filling, but mine have a simple lemon-herb-rice filling. Call up a friend or two to make light work of it an roll up a batch of your own tasty dolmas. The recipe is here.

Mosaic Monday--Birthday Edition

A few photos I took during my birthday weekend. Some are gifts from generous folks and most were taken on the Metro Garden Tour yesterday. We saw very few gardens as the nonstop dancing the night before made for rather a late start. But I'm glad I dragged myself out.

42

Incredibly, another birthday has come and gone. Didn't I just do that a few weeks ago?

I'm still just like a little kid about birthdays-- I really do love to do it up. We had a little amateur mehndi session on Friday night, then rose early for Shabbat services where MonkeyBoy led one of the psalms and The Dark Lord and I both chanted Torah. Beautifully, if I can boast. I was only half as nervous as when I read at his bar mitzvah so I am making progress.

We had a lovely lunch out and then zipped home to prepare for My Big Fat Birthday Dance Party. The Spouse and I have long tossed about the idea of a dance party and finally decided that the time had come. Apart from a rather dramatic and sticky episode involving the fizzy beverages, the house went from chaos to charming rather smoothly.

We moved furniture, rolled up the rugs and turned the dining room into a perfect little dance hall. I had put together an upbeat and eclectic playlist which came under scrutiny at the last minute and was then infused with a liberal sprinkling of 80's pop hits because The Spouse informed me that there weren't enough songs in English. So we had David Bowie and The Talking Heads mixed in along with songs in Spanish, Russian, Hindi, and French. And it worked! It took a little effort to get people dancing, but once they started there was no stopping. I wonder how many times we looked at each other, breathless and sweaty and said "What a great idea!".

We took breaks on the patio, drank tasty handcrafted beer, and gobbled all kinds of snacks (brought mostly by my generous friends) and had a blast. The kids ran wild, fueled by root beer and cupcakes, and seemed to enjoy themselves as well.

I even got presents! (I told you I was like a little kid about birthdays)--my kids bought me a beautiful plant I'd been eyeing for a while and there were flowers galore and a groovy bag from my sister, some lovely art paper, handmade soap and, notably, a carton of eggs from this lady. Have you ever gotten multicolored eggs for your birthday? Pretty cool!

And then there's my husband, the guy with perfect taste and an excellent memory when it really counts. Not that he can remember where he put his just-poured mug of coffee, but he remembered a swing through a gallery a month ago when I gazed longingly at this:It's a striking, one-of-a-kind bracelet made of antique paper sandwiched between tiny panes of glass. And whenever I wear it, I am sure to think of a balmy summer night when friends came to dance with me until the wee hours of the morning. If any of you are reading this, thanks for dancing with me!

Party Food, part one

I'm not quite sure how it's happened again so soon, but once again I find myself a year older. I blame my bad health luck last year on the fact that I didn't throw myself a party and, not wanting to repeat the curse, I made sure to plan something big this year. I have lots of friends and loved ones joining me tonight for a dance party. We're moving furniture, rolling up the rug, and cranking up the stereo for a few hours of craziness and I am really looking forward to it!

I spent more time thinking about the perfect playlist (and perfect it is, with a little bit of everything thrown in to make a perfectly spicy mix) than I did thinking about the food. When I finally focused I realized there were two things I had to have to call it a party: tomatillo salsa and dolmas (stuffed grape leaves). Yes, I know, completely different continents but really, with the range of music? They make a perfect couple for this party.

The salsa is a snap, really. The hardest part is peeling the tomatillos which isn't a huge job. Take a pound and a half of tomatillos, peel off the husks, and wash them in hot water to remove the waxy coating. Place tomatillos in a large roasting pan along with a couple of nice, fat jalapeño chiles . Roast in the oven at 400 degrees for 20 minutes or so, until they begin to soften. Toss into the pan a handful of garlic cloves which you've separated, but not peeled. Roast for another 20 minutes or so, until there everything is started to collapse and darken.

Remove from the oven and let cool. Pick over the tomatillos and chiles to remove any stems, and dump into the bowl of a food processor. Add the garlic by squeezing it out of the skins. Toss in 4 or 5 scallions (green parts included), as much fresh cilantro as you like, and a good pinch of salt. Whiz away until you have a pleasant consistency and give it a taste. You may want to add a bit of sugar or more salt. Admire its lovely color and bright flavor. Serve with chips or quesadillas or eggs or, honestly, just about anything. Refrigerate the highly unlikely leftovers.

Salad Rolls

It's always a pleasure when I discover that foods I previously thought beyond me are actually not that challenging. Yes, some of the mystery is lost, but it's but it's a fair price to pay to have all the salad rolls I can eat.

It's been dreadfully hot here in Portland so when a friend offered me both an air conditioned space in which to hang out for the day and lunch I knew I'd gotten lucky. She made a yummy peanut noodle salad (a warm weather standby around here and I'll get a recipe up one of these days) and a bunch of Vietnamese style salad rolls. I've always found the diaphanous wrappers quite intimidating but after watching her work I realize it's something I can handle. After all, I can make my own cheese, so surely I can do anything!

This morning we walked over to the Hong Phat market for supplies. I'd thought the wrappers were rice paper but what I ended up getting was made of tapioca flour, as were the noodles. I spent some time slicing and chopping to set up my assembly line:

I was delighted to find that as long as I worked quickly, the rolls came together easily and stayed stuck. It takes a bit of practice to become familiar with the wrappers, but they come thousands to a package so you can afford to toss a few as you improve.

I used mixed greens from my garden. The speckled lettuce was lovely, but I really liked the bite of tiny mustard greens. One child nixed the peanuts and another whined about the avocado but it won't be long before the darlings can simply make their own custom salad rolls.

You'll want a sauce or two for dipping. I always love sweet chili sauce, and one of the kids decided to give some commercial honey-garlic sauce a try which wasn't bad. I think something involving fish sauce and lime juice would be traditional and a quick, spicy peanut sauce would be tasty as well.

The best part? No heat, apart from quickly boiling the noodles and the hot water for the wrappers which was really nothing. I'm looking forward to experimenting with these rolls as summer progresses and the markets offer new possibilities.

You'll find my novice recipe here.

Morons on the Loose

What is the connection between Independence Day and pyromaniac morons? The idiots on our block seemed determined to repeat last year's stellar performance in which their amateur pyrotechnics incinerated the arborvitae hedge across the street, leaving us with this splendid sight every morning:

There's nothing like waking up in Mordor to start your day right.

We've been preparing food to take along tomorrow for a day of picnicking and hanging out at Blue Lake Park, my new favorite July 4th destination. We used to stay home and avoid the crowds but I am happier not being home while the morons set the neighborhood on fire.

We visited Blue Lake Park last year on the 4th and found it delightful. Yes, there are thousands of holiday visitors, but the park is huge and there's room for everyone. There's a vibrant multicultural mix of folks who show up on the 4th and last year we shared the park with Russians, Somalis, Latinos, African-Americans, Southeast Asians and more. The ESL teacher in me loved spending the 4th of July with so many new Americans and the kids had all kinds of fun so back we go tomorrow.

I taught my students about the 4th of July tonight. It was tough finding a reading that was simple enough for them to understand but we worked through a good introductory piece. I admit to getting a bit choked up discussing the word "freedom" when one of my Russian girls suddenly got it and explained that that was why they came to America and there were nods of agreement from many. I know there are a lot of creepy, flag waving, God-Bless-America types out there who've taken over words like freedom, but that young woman's face gave me a new understanding of an idea I thought I'd thoroughly considered.

Now if only we could be free of the incendiary morons on our block....

Dinner on the Patio

I know a lot of folks who are deliriously happy about the onset of summer. Not me. I hate being hot. I'll go out in the cold without a coat and happily shiver until I get where I'm going but the heat makes me miserable, especially at night when it makes sleep difficult. I'm not going to handle the climate crisis graciously, you can bet on that.

There are, of course, a few good things about summer. The fruit is gorgeous and varied, my garden goes wild, and we can enjoy our covered patio. Years ago someone decided to slap some extra roof over the northwest side of our house, making a very dark little corner which, frankly, is quite unpleasant most of the year. But in high summer, it's a wonderful place, a cool refuge from the sun's rays complete with the soothing burbling of my home-made washtub fountain. We move the houseplants out for the summer, and we've been covering the walls with an odd collection of mirrors to bring a bit of light into the dim space and for a couple of months, it's not a bad place to be, especially on a warm evening at dinnertime.

The kids had been asking for onion pie for quite a while, so I finally indulged them even though it made the kitchen even hotter. With the fan set up, I was good to go, chopping and sauteeing onions in a mixture of olive oil and butter until they turned a rich, deep brown.

I put the caramelized onions into a deep pie dish, scattered grated cheddar and fresh thyme over the them, and then made a quick biscuit dough and plopped it over everything. Half an hour in the oven, and the whole thing was tipped out onto a plate, ready for serving.
After last week's cheesemaking I was all ready to give it another try. I found some beautiful heirloom tomatoes which I sliced up and layered with the slices of fresh mozzarella. I drizzled olive oil and balsamic vinegar over everything, along with a pinch of salt, black pepper, and some chopped fresh basil.

The final dish was sauteed garlicky zucchini, fresh from the garden of friends. I remember thinking they were crazy to put their zucchini in so early but they called it right this year. My plants are still spindly while they've been eating fresh zucchini for quite some time.

It was declared by all to be a fine meal, which is something in this household of picky children. Should you feel inclined to try the onion pie yourself, you'll find the recipe here.

Aaaahhhhh.....

I've been hearing about this place for ages and held off on visiting as I knew how easily I could become hooked. A dear friend talked me into joining her and we enjoyed two hours of total decadence: a hot foot soak in scented water, an aromatherapy salt scrub, and a nice long foot and lower leg massage. All this while ensconced on elevated puffy couches, sipping tea and munching snacks, in a pleasantly darkened room draped in sumptuous fabrics. It was such a lovely treat, which, followed by a delicious Lebanese dinner, made for a perfect mom's night out.

New Term, Same Problems

Since so many of my troublesome kids failed my class last term (no surprise, they couldn't shut up and study) I started this term in full on scary teacher mode and seem to have terrified a number of my meeker students, especially the new ones. But the usual suspects? Same old behavior.

We use something called a success contract as a means of establishing consequences for inappropriate behavior. A bunch of students started the term on contracts and two have repeatedly violated the terms of their enrollment in my class by talking, yelling, name-calling, and even an episode which could easily be considered assault. So I've kicked two students out and am hoping that this will have a positive impact on my class and we can get down to some serious English now.

I feel really disappointed. I so wanted to get through to these kids, to help them grow up and succeed and thought that if I was patient and firm something would change. I am sure that these two have had nothing but trouble in their lives--the 17 year old boy, I know, is fatherless, and both come from an ethnic group that has suffered decades of discrimination in Russia. Unlike other Russian speaking students we see, the kids from this group have much lower academic skills which no doubt reflects, at least partially, inferior schools. But I can't sacrifice the rest of the class to these kids' issues. While I am looking forward to a more focused class, I am also really sad that I am just one more person failing these kids.

Curds and Whey

I blame Barbara Kingsolver. I've been thoroughly enjoying Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. I respect and applaud her family's decision to break away from the world of corporate food and eat as locally as possible. Really, I do. But part of me (the insecure and immature part I guess) was feeling kind of like a loser as I read, thinking wistfully about the cook and gardener I could be if I would just get my act together and knowing that I probably never will. But then came the chapter on cheese, specifically the 30-minute fresh mozzarella recipe. Really, she insists, normal people can make real cheese in their own kitchens. Well, I was in.

I especially wanted to make cheese with The Spouse this weekend. It might seem like an odd activity for an anniversary but we are, after all, the couple who had to visit both the Tillamook Cheese Factory and the Blue Heron French Cheese Company on our honeymoon. We like our cheese.

I started out simply by heating a gallon of organic milk on the stove. My thermometer isn't terribly accurate at the lower end, so I had to guess about the proper time to add the citric acid. At this point it was more or less like making paneer, which I have done many times. Adding the rennet seems to change the consistency of the curds and make them stick together with more tenacity than paneer. Once the curds formed I scooped them out with a slotted spoon and mashed things around to press out as much of the watery whey as possible. Eventually the mass of curds came together into something resembling either a cauliflower or a brain, depending on your point of view.

The mass of curds is then heated in the microwave for a minute or so and kneaded. This is the fun part as the texture begins to change dramatically. Once it cools, you repeat the heating/kneading until most of the moisture is out of the cheese.
You can then form the cheese into whatever shape you like. I made about 12 2" balls of cheese. The flavor was incredibly delicate and buttery and the cheese squeaks just slightly when chewed which is a sensation I love.

It took a few phone calls to find vegetarian rennet locally but I figured if I was going to make my own cheese I might as well make it kosher as well. The citric acid also took a couple of calls but we were able to round up all the ingredients here in Portland. For those more patient folks wanting to do mail order, I'd take a look here as they seem to have a huge array of items for your cheesemaking needs.

This isn't particularly cost effective as there wasn't a whole lot to show for a gallon of milk, especially once The Dark Lord came through the kitchen and discovered the cheese. But I will certainly try this again, perhaps when I have a pile of fresh grape tomatoes. I can see rolling the fresh mozzarella into tiny balls, and tossing them with fresh basil, tomatoes, and a bit of olive oil for a variation on the Caprese salad. How lovely that would be in deep summer with home grown tomatoes and homemade cheese! I may not have a farm of many acres and I even fell behind in planting my vegetable beds this year, but I did manage to pop a few tomato plants in the ground last month, so that heavenly salad shouldn't be too far away.

Apologies for the photo quality. Given a choice between cheesemaking and documenting cheesemaking, well, the cheese won so I (or The Spouse) snapped what photos we could despite poor lighting.

17 Years

It's hard to believe that 17 years have passed since The Spouse and I exchanged vows in a funky, home made, hybrid wedding ceremony one June morning. I remember a lot of frenzied planning leading up to that day, but what we've learned since is that it's the marriage, not the wedding, that matters.

I am blessed to be married to a man who is endlessly patient, incredibly kind, wonderfully creative, and surprisingly wise for his years. He is a marvelous father, and a loving son. Yes,he's forgetful but he pays attention to the details that really matter in a way that sometimes astounds me. We've watched quite a few couples falter in recent years and had a few good fights of our own, but never have I doubted that we'd be together forever.

One of my deepest desires is that each of my children will be blessed to find someone who can be partner, lover, and best friend in the way my sweetie has been to me.

A dear friend offered to take all the kids from "lunchtime to lunchtime" and we've yet to make our plans. But it hardly matters what we do as long as we have some uninterrupted time together. There's no one I'd rather spend that time with.

Berry Stained Fingers

Yesterday we bought four flats of fresh strawberries which works out to 48 little green pint boxes. Half were Laura's and half were ours. We went out to Thompson Farms where the berries are grown without chemical pesticides, herbicides, or fertilizers. East Multnomah County was once covered in strawberry farms but the farms are shrinking or disappearing these days, so I was delighted to support a local family owned business with my berry dollars. The smell of the fruit in the back of the van as we drove home was positively intoxicating!

I wanted lots for the freezer as nothing tickles me more than to pull a bag of perfectly ripe local berries out of freezer for those mid-winter smoothies. Quite a few berries were quickly rinsed and spread in a single layer on a large baking tray covered in waxed paper (which keeps the berries from sticking to the bare metal). Each tray sat in the freezer for about an hour and a half, just long enough for the berries to firm up. Then I popped the frozen berries into 1 quart freezer bags and stored them away for winter.

Meanwhile, the jam berries were sitting, bathed in sugar, as we waited for them to soften and get juicy. Laura's favorite recipe looked astoundingly sweet to me, but I've had the jam many times and it's quite delicious so I wasn't worried. She brought along her steam canner, a marvelous contraption which was entirely new to me. It requires heating only a few pints of water rather than than the gallons and gallons needed to fill my old canning kettle so the water heats much faster, you can process numerous batches quickly and the kitchen doesn't get nearly as hot as with the big canner. I think I'll have to find one of my own.
We ended up with 18 half-pint jars of strawberry jam. At this point Laura left and I still had a full flat of berries. Continuing with the freezer routine, I also started poking around in Stocking Up looking for more ways to use my remaining berries. Since I still had some of my Mt Vernon rhubarb remaining, I decided to try the strawberry -rhubarb preserves. This is not always a flavor combination I love, mostly because the rhubarb is often overwhelmed by the berries, and that appealing tang is lost in overwhelming sweetness. One of the things I really appreciate about Stocking Up is that many of the recipes are written with a goal of reducing sugar so I figured their recipe wouldn't be overly sweet. Also, the recipe uses low-methoxyl pectin (I use the Pomona brand) which is great stuff. Regular pectin won't thicken your jams unless your mixture is at least 50% sugar. This stuff, made entirely from citrus peel, will thicken jams, jellies, and preserves regardless of sugar content. I made the entire batch--8 cups of fruit cooked down into 6 half-pints--using less than a cup of honey and no sugar at all.

The resulting preserve is tangy and tart and, as far as I'm concerned, perfectly delicious. I'm sure that some folks would find it way too astringent. Others might not like the way the preserves look in the jar. The finished product gets rather foamy and I need to do some research to find out why that is. So it's not exactly picture perfect but it is absolutely delicious. I had one jar that didn't seal in the water bath canner last night which meant I could dig right into it this morning. I toasted some thick slices of Pugliese bread, spread them with a thin layer of cream cheese and then topped them with a thick dollop of freshly made strawberry-rhubarb preserves....heaven!
If you feel like making a batch of your own strawberry rhubarb preserves, the recipe is here.

Rhubarb Coffee Cake

We always had rhubarb growing up. My dad had a few plants around and we always enjoyed his rhubarb pies as well as stewed rhubarb over anything: ice cream, shortcake, or (my favorite) tapioca pudding. I've always loved the jewel-like color and the tangy flavor of rhubarb despite the fact that for so many people it's either unknown or disliked intensely. I was delighted to find that none other than Nigella Lawson is a huge rhubarb fan and I took it as a good omen that our first home of our own included a vigorous rhubarb plant.
Not only did we snap up (and immediately eat) over a pound of the most delicious cherries at a Mt Vernon farm stand the other day, but I also spied a bunch of rhubarb going for a very reasonable price. Since our own rhubarb was mostly harvested weeks ago, I was happy to find more of the ruby stalks looking fresh and healthy and I brought home a few pounds with no particular plan.
Rhubarb was not immediately on my mind this morning as I got up early to prepare for making strawberry jam with my dear friend Laura (more on that later). Thinking that we needed something tasty to fortify ourselves before heading off to the wilds of south Gresham to buy our berries, I started dreaming of something along the lines of a rhubarb coffee cake. I did some online research and assembled something using bits and pieces of a number of different recipes. The result was quite tasty: hearty, tangy, and ever so pretty in a homely kind of way. If you'd like to give it a try, the recipe is here.

I Can't Wait....

...for Sicko, Michael Moore's newest film. It opens in New York City this weekend and around the country on June 29. This time he takes on the American health care system. Fahrenheit 911 didn't end the war in Iraq, but I'm really hoping Sicko will stimulate discussion about what our citizens need and deserve. I love the"Prescription for Change" posted on the website:

1. Every American must have full, uninterrupted health care coverage for life.

2. Private, for-profit health insurance companies must be abolished.

3. Profits of pharmaceutical companies must be regulated like public utilities.

I love that Moore is willing to take on the the big guys in this film. We won't get anywhere with universal health coverage until the insurance industry is taken out and strangled, blood-sucking vampires that they are. Anyway, I can't wait to see it. Watch the trailer here:

Getaway

We've just returned from a few days visiting family in Anacortes. We made plans thinking The Spouse would need to work and that I would be driving the kids up there alone but, happily, he ended up free this week so we could all go together.

We drove north through gray skies and occasional drizzle but the sky grew clearer as we headed west off the interstate towards the sea. We were welcomed with multi-recipient birthday celebration (all our birthdays fall between May and August) which included two lovely bakery cakes and a generous amount of spending money for the kids.My aunt's house is on a hill overlooking the state ferry terminal and the westernmost San Juan islands. It's a lovely location and we were blessed with mild, sunny weather while there. We spent one day wandering around the town of Anacortes. We walked through the lovely city park and took in the views. It's pretty much all about the water and the boats, both of which proved endlessly fascinating. We also managed to find both the yarn shop and a lovely bookstore.

We spent another day visiting Friday Harbor on San Juan Island which allowed for an hour of ferry time each way. The ferries seem so grand to me--they're spacious and comfortable and you can wander freely at different levels. We traveled on a gloriously sunny day, but I think it would be wonderful to spend a stormy wintry day on the ferry as well, with some friends, perhaps, and a hot cup of coffee and some knitting. It sounds perfect to me.

That's The Dark Lord and me in the photo above, with our shadows on the water. Pretty cool shot, I think.
Friday Harbor was lovely as well. We had an OK lunch, visited more bookstores, ate ice cream, wandered about and enjoyed ourselves quite a bit.

We left fairly early yesterday and made a stop at a produce stand in Mt Vernon where we bought some of the best cherries I've ever eaten. I'm deep into reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle right now and was happy to shell out a small fortune for the locally grown fruit. We arrived home to find all the cats well fed and happy to see us.

I spent a great deal of time on this vacation doing...nothing, really. Reading, knitting, taking photos, and not much more than that. What luxury! I'm trying to hang on to that vacation vibe before gearing up to think about the rapidly approaching summer term.

Cherry Almond Chocolate Biscotti

This will be a quick post as we're getting ready to leave town to go visit my aunt in Anacortes, Washington tomorrow.

Ever since I was tiny, going to visit my aunt was thrilling. When I was young she lived in a number of fascinating places including a tiny cottage on Puget Sound and an apartment on Capitol Hill in Seattle which seemed wildly exciting to me at the time. She always treated me differently than other adults--she really paid attention in a way I've since learned that those who are parents can't always manage. She took me out for wonderful meals in exotic restaurants, some of which I remember to this day. She used to keep me well supplied with chocolate orange Frangos which, sadly, have become impossible to find. Every year we now eagerly look forward to her generous holiday gift, a tin of delicious Cougar Gold cheese.

I have all these wonderful food memories associated with my aunt so it pleases me to no end that she seems to be fond of my biscotti. I sent them up once and heard many times about how she loved them so I've come to associate them with her. I've made these a number of different ways including a version that honors those beloved Frangos using candied orange peel. Those are heavenly. Today I made the cherry almond version and they came out as tasty as ever. You'll find my recipe here and I hope you'll give them a try as homemade biscotti are nothing like the stale, tasteless specimens one finds in coffee shops. These are crumbly and light with a rich chocolate flavor and a lovely bit of crunch from the toasted almonds.

Happy Father's Day

Well, I am a completely lame daughter. In the chaos of this past week (finals, a birthday, a piano recital, preparing to leave town for a few days) I completely forgot about Father's Day. It just kind of crept up on me and here it is, late the night before, and this is all I have to offer:

I am blessed because not only do I have the world's greatest dad, but I have a wonderful stepdad as well. From the time we first met, many years ago, he has always been unfailingly kind and generous with me. He is warm and funny and has lots of passionate interests. Despite never raising children himself, he is a super grandfather and my children are lucky to have him in their life, as am I.

I've written about my dad here before. He's taught me so much about how to live my life and how to treat people. He really is a remarkable person and I owe so much of who I am and what I hold dear to his influence.

Both my father and my step father are big hikers. Together even. The Princess loves going on what she calls a "two grandpa walk" --isn't she a lucky one?

So I'm posting the photo below in the hopes that these two very special men in my life will get in a good walk in the woods very soon. I love you guys!

The Final Exams Are Graded...

...and it doesn't look good. Only 6 of 17 students passed which is surely an all time low for my 16 year teaching career. What this means is that every single one of the students I had trouble with this term will be with me next term. My joy knows no limits.

Have I mentioned how much I've enjoyed this term?

My brief one week break will be spent pondering how I can have a significantly different class with the same students. Wish me luck!

A Bit of a Rant

Many students were absent tonight despite most of our classes giving the first part of final exams. Why? Many were scared to leave their homes and afraid to come to school.

There was a huge immigration bust at the Del Monte cannery in North Portland today. More than 160 people were arrested and sent to Tacoma leaving much of Portland's Latino immigrant community in a panic.

Yes, these folks were here working illegally. Working. Not causing trouble, not taking anything from anyone, but working to support their families. Working hard, nasty jobs for little pay, no benefits, and no job security. Not looking for handouts but paying taxes and rent, buying food, eating in restaurants, buying gas, contributing to our economy.

I'm so angry now when I read all the folks in The Oregonian's forums cheering this act: the incarceration of human beings, the separation of parents and children. How does having undocumented workers hurt us? What is the problem? What are people so afraid of? I hear so many ignorant, stupid comments from people, things like:

"They're all just lazy"--The vast majority of undocumented workers are men and 96% of undocumented men are working which, by the way, is a higher employment rate than that of US citizens or legal immigrants. Plus, if they were lazy, why would they be so eager to study English every night after putting in a full day of hard work?

"They're a drain on social services"--not only are undocumented immigrants ineligible for the vast majority of benefits, most won't get anywhere near government services for fear of being traced and deported. Yes, we educate the children of undocumented workers, but most of them (0ver 90%) are in fact US citizens.

"They're taking jobs from Americans"--when is the last time you lost out on a primo cannery job? Undocumented workers are mostly doing the work that American workers are unwilling to do, especially for low wages in poor working conditions. Illegal immigrants are consumers as well as workers and they are buying goods and services in numbers which actually stimulate the US economy to the tune of $300 billion annually.

"They don't pay taxes"--wrong again. The majority of undocumented workers pay sales taxes, property taxes (even if renting), gas and other consumption taxes just like everyone else. And most of these folks also pay payroll taxes in the billions. Needless to say, despite paying in to the system, few will be able to claim social security benefits, providing an enormous source of virtually "free money" to the government.

I wonder how many of us would willingly leave our loved ones behind, go into debt and endanger our lives to cross a border, work a dangerous job for low pay, and live in the shadows for months or years? It sounds horrible, right? But I think any of us would if we felt it was the only way to support our families. We should give thanks that most of us will never, God willing, be in such a position.

If you are not familiar with immigration issues, I encourage you to go and learn. Let the powers that be know that you support sensible and compassionate immigration reform. Our economy should not be dependent on an underclass.

I finally did it!

After this miserable term full of troublesome students, I finally kicked someone out of my classroom tonight. I felt some remorse, and he wasn't kicked out for good, just until tomorrow, but it felt good, like I'd finally gotten the attention of this most garrulous and lackadaisical group of students.

I'd listened to this young man kvetch and whine all evening about how he couldn't do this and I needed to do that for him, and he wasn't really interested in being there and it was my fault he wasn't understanding anything. (His English is actually better than that of many of his fellow students and he's quite bright) I tried to explain things to him but he would just talk over me, making wisecracks in Spanish. And then....his phone rang. One of my cardinal rules is that all cell phones need to be turned off in the classroom and nothing sets me off like the little warble of a phone. He actually got up to take the call in the hallway and I asked him to turn the phone off and get to work. I told him that he might as well take his books because if he left the room to take the call, he wouldn't be coming back. He opted to leave.

All the other students stared at the door with wonder and they were very well behaved the rest of the evening. None was more shocked than my number one troublemaker who looked almost hurt that I would send someone else home instead of him.

I always think that if I give these kids one more chance and explain the expectations again that they'll magically straighten up, be quiet, and focus on learning English. And many of them, thankfully, do just that. But there are a few who, given an inch, will take the proverbial mile. This term I seemed to have a super sized portion of those kids. Had I sent someone home weeks ago I wonder if this term would have been such struggle.