Category: Uncategorized
Just a bit outside
Happy Opening Day.
Bob Uecker back calling the plays on my radio as I hang out in my kitchen at night chopping vegetables and sipping a beer is a sure sign of spring. Other signs of spring are all around us. As I sit typing this I can hear the birds chirping away outside and I am starting to feel guilty for being inside. At all times. The Wisconsin Film Festival is underway (I am seeing my first movie tonight!) and the Farmer’s Market starts next weekend. I’m not much for making resolutions in January- there are no visual cues that this is a time for change- but reinventing oneself in the spring is something that I can get behind. Spring is a time of renewal. The days are longer. The flowers are starting to peek out of the dirt. Animals are crawling out of their holes. And there is that day coming up where all of a sudden everyone is outside; playing frisbee, grilling out, strolling around and looking prettier. You know. That day.
So I have made a few spring renewal-olutions. I want to focus more on my writing. The last few months have been a revelation for me as to what truly makes me happy. And I have found (I’ve really known it all along- it just needed to crawl out of the dirt and make me notice it again) that it’s writing. To that note, I have a new project that I am really, really excited about. I want to be more punctual. I want to worry less about germs and everything (soaps, water, lotions, nutella, blueberries, mascara, shampoo, plastic cups, cans, etc.) being poisonous (a strange phenomenon that took over me the last few years). We can only control so much and I do the best that I can. And I want to start trying more new recipes. I feel like I have been in a bit of a cooking rut. My spring goal is try one new recipe a week. And I would like to tell you about the ratatouille that I made recently with some delicious zucchini and eggplant, but that would make me late. So, another time. Go Brewers.
The luck of the Kashubs
I’m not Irish, but I am a Kashub. And I am also about a week behind with this post. Time to get caught up and stay up. But back to St. Patrick’s Day…
The weekend before St. Patrick’s Day I listened to a voicemail from Jimmy, a dear (Irish) family friend. Jimmy said that my (Scandinavian) mother had called him up to tell him that I would be all alone on the holiday and would they invite me if they were going to do anything to celebrate? To tell you the truth, I had not yet pondered my alone-ness on St. Patrick’s Day (Dan was on the road with Clovis Mann), but when faced with this apparently sad reality, at least according to my mother, I realized that, indeed, I would be alone on this day of all days. And so this is how I found myself trotting down the bike path on a warm, muggy almost-Spring evening last Thursday wearing my cowboy boots and favorite green top and swinging a brown paper bag containing a block of Kerrygold Irish cheddar cheese from the Willy Street Co-op.
Upon arriving at the party, I was delighted to find a warm group of family friends and a selection of delicious appetizers, including olives, grapes, crackers and cheese, and, of course, beer. The soda bread was out of the oven and the cabbage sat waiting on the counter for its’ turn.
The dinner menu included corned beef for the meat-eaters and vegetarian-cooked potatoes, carrots and cabbage (with a side of horseradish) for those of us who avoid the meat. The soda bread, with butter, was hearty and delicious. Dessert included lime popsicles, various flavors of green-shaded gelato and sherbet and cookies. We talked about politics (how could we not?) and St. Patrick Days past (I couldn’t make some of these stories up if I tried…). It was a lovely evening. Thanks to my hosts- and my mother- for inviting me.
Muffins, continued
Happy Saturday morning! It’s sunny here in Wisconsin, the birds are singing, it smells like dirt and I no longer have to park my car on alternate sides of the street. In other words, Spring has sprung.
Right now I am listening to Taj Mahal, on round three of coffee and waiting for a call from my protestor-in-crime, Dr. Hotbody, to figure out our rallying plans for the day. It’s also a lovely day to enjoy a muffin for breakfast and maybe dust off the ol’ bicycle. Here is that recipe I promised for whole wheat muffins. I love this recipe because it is adaptable depending on your mood*, the season or what you have in your kitchen. When I made these muffins this past week I used mashed bananas, coconut chips, chocolate chips and dried pineapple. I also substituted plain Sugar River yogurt for the buttermilk. Delicious.
*Looking back on that morning I made these muffins, I was in a mood. I just realized the date of that post… Beware the Ides of March.
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Whole Wheat Muffins
3/4 to 1 cup sugar, depending on sweetness of fruit
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup mashed or puréed banana, sweet potato, apple, zucchini, cooked or canned pumpkin, or other fruits or vegetables
1 egg, beaten
1/2 cup buttermilk.
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees and grease two 6-cup muffin tins or fill with liners. In a large bowl, mix together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt. In another bowl, whisk together the melted butter, banana, egg and buttermilk. Fold wet mixture into dry mixture and stir until just combined.
2. Fill muffin tins or liners; bake for about 25 to 30 minutes, or until muffins are puffed and turning golden brown on top. Serve warm if possible.
Yield: 12 muffins.
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Today I am also trying to not think about the fact that Clovis Mann is rocking the Wonder Bar in Casper, Wyoming tonight and, more importantly, getting to have a cook-out with my best friend, Meagan, her family and a bunch of our Wyoming friends. Luckily I have a show at the High Noon Saloon tonight to distract me. And it’s going to be one helluva show- The Smokin’ Bandits and Honest Monday. And there is a full moon rising. It’s all happening.
Whole Weight Muffins
I woke up with the weight of the world on my shoulders. As I stood over a sinkload of dishes (still trying to catch up from a month straight of protesting) I stared out the window and pondered the cosmos. Should I flee the state or stay here and fight like hell? Is trying to get a job as a teacher like strapping myself to a sinking ship or a noble idea? On the verge of a mini-meltdown, I decided to make whole wheat muffins and put on some music. Thank you, Mark Bittman, Florence + The Machine and coffee for saving my morning.
After a quick inventory of ingredients, I started mixing.
To be continued….
Mad-as-hell puttanesca
After three weeks of feeling the love and staying optimistic about winning the fight against the soulless tyrant now ‘leading’ my state, Tuesday night I finally gave in to the anger and was mad as hell. I needed to bang some pots around, wield knives and curse in the kitchen. I needed a recipe to match my fiery mood. I present to you, ‘Mad-as-hell puttanesca.’ It’s salty, spicy, tangy and impossible to screw up too badly (this part is key, considering I was cooking with blind rage and not paying much attention to what I threw in the skillet).
I was first introduced to puttanesca by my friend Derek (the Packer owner). Derek told me that legend has it that Italian ‘women of the night’ would make a batch of spaghetti alla puttanesca to put on their windowsills to beckon suitors. I love to picture the open windows and curtains wafting in the breeze while a pot of spaghetti sits steaming on a dark Italian night. Derek makes a more traditional puttanesca sauce with anchovies and herbs (I always forget about those pesky herbs). I never follow a recipe when I make it, but always include a few essential ingredients: olives, capers, and tomatoes.
Between tirades delivered to Dan and the stove, a captive audience, this is what I cooked up the other night:
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Mad-as-hell Puttanesca
Ingredients:
tomatoes (crushed, diced or whole)- I like Muir Glen organic
tomato sauce
olives- cured black olives work well
capers
garlic
olive oil
kale
red pepper flakes
wine (red or white)
whole wheat pasta (spaghetti or penne)
parmesan cheese
Directions:
Heat a couple of glugs of olive oil in a skillet over low-medium heat. Add chopped garlic and red pepper flakes- I like a lot of heat, so I add a lot. Depending on how many you are serving, add some canned tomatoes and the juice (I added half a can for the two of us). I had some leftover tomato sauce in the fridge, so I added some of that, too. Pour in some wine- red or white works fine. To add a little color and up the health ante I added some kale that I tore into bite-sized pieces. Let this simmer and bubble for a while over low-medium heat. Boil water for the pasta. Rant and rave. Cry. Take a sip of beer. Chop olives, wave knife in air, curse. Heat oven for bread. Salt the boiling water. Add pasta. Take a breath. Add the olives and capers to the simmering sauce. Put bread in oven. Dress the salad. Stir pasta into the sauce. Take bread out of the oven. Serve the pasta in bowls with freshly shredded parmesan cheese from the state that is boiling with turmoil. Serve and attempt to enjoy.
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The reason for my anger? After days and days of peaceful protests the governor illegally shutdown the Capitol to prepare for his budget address. For the first time there was an orange fence keeping protestors away from the state building in an attempt to keep the noise out of his lethal budget speech.
While we stood outside in the cold, the heartless and cowardly governor told a crowd of supporters (ushered secretly into the Captiol) inside that he plans to cut nearly $900 million dollars from Wisconsin’s public education system. He wants to take this money and give it to the people who fix roads. The same people who donated to his campaign and got him elected. On Tuesday I just couldn’t take it anymore and I erupted with sadness and rage. But now I’m back to feeling optimistic because, in retrospect, the governor is scared. I’m still mad as hell, but I also realize that the governor is working so hard to silence the voices of dissent because he knows that he is doing something wrong. I will continue to fight. And I hope you will join me.
What do we want? Chopsticks! When do we want them? Now!
I think I overheard this at the rally yesterday.
Everything has turned into a chant or protest cry. There’s not a whole lot of time for cooking, doing the dishes, running or writing. The only thing that matters right now is standing united with thousands and thousands of people who believe that the only thing that matters right now is standing (and yelling) united. Everything else, including cookie recipes and inventing new pasta dishes, has been put on the back burner for now. Solidarity!
This is what Democracy feels like
I can’t sleep. I’m too fired up.
And I have this great cookie recipe to share. I wanted to tell you all about how I burned out the motor on my handheld mixer trying to whip all of the delicious organic butter and how I found myself jogging one of the ingredients- 2 Tablespoons of booze, in the form of kirsch- in a jam jar down the slick bike path in the dark on Monday night, but something else came up. Late Tuesday afternoon as I was wrapping up a Social Studies lesson (naming South American countries with second graders) I was handed three versions of a letter (in Hmong, Spanish and English) to be sent home with the kids right away. The letter warned families of the possibility of excessive teacher absences over the next few days in response to a budget repair bill that had been introduced by Wisconsin’s governor. This was news to me. I attended the rally at the Capitol Tuesday night and received word at 11:30 p.m. that school had been cancelled the following day. Wednesday’s protest was eye-opening. I’ve never personally witnessed such a diverse group of people (and pets) coming together for a common cause. I’ve said the word, “solidarity” more times in the last few days than in my whole life and chanted something in a large crowd besides “Go Pack Go” for probably the first time ever. People keep asking me for reports of the Capitol rallies and all I can really say is, “It’s amazing.” And now the ‘Wisconsin 14’ have fled the state because they believe this legislation is moving too fast and that our voices deserve to be heard. Their bold action gives me hope. Watching my teachers and mentors chanting along with a new generation of teachers makes me proud. Hearing a firefighter declare to a crowd of thousands that we are all in this together makes me believe that we are. This isn’t about making more money or whining over pensions. Nor is it a fight between public and private employees, like they would like us to believe. It’s not even about Democrats versus Republicans. This is about basic human rights and one man’s power-hungry move to try to take them away.
I will share that cookie recipe when this fire burns down, but for now, Solidarity.
Love letter to Wisconsin, Part 3
Good morning, Wisconsin.
Without getting too political here, this is a scary time for our state. Our rights are under attack and just sitting down and taking it is not an option. I’m not sure quite yet what my plan is for taking action, but this morning I am thinking about all of the good things about Wisconsin and trying to send all positive vibes our states’ way. Here is the start of a list, in no particular order:
1. The Green Bay Packers
The Packers, owned by thousands of Wisconsinites, just showed THIS MUCH HEART and won a little football match called the Super Bowl.
2. The University of Wisconsin System
From world-class professors, stem cell research, and ‘Varsity’, to ice cream, beer and popcorn at the terrace and the Rathskellar, I love the UW.
3. The Wisconsin Film Festival
After working in the box office for the festival two years ago, this event has become one of my favorite things about Wisconsin. It’s where I first saw ‘Food, Inc.’ (which completely changed my way of thinking about food and the environment) and a charming film called ‘The Beetle,’ a documentary about a man living in Jerusalem who decided to trace the history of his VW Beetle. Seeing an email about this event in my inbox last night made me infinitely happy.
I’m off to go cross-country skiing, so this list is to be continued….
You know it’s the Packers
Somewhere in the middle of all of this I realized that I have fallen in love with you, Green Bay Packers.
I grew up a sports fan, but I was more concerned with baseball and soccer. I distinctly remember listening at a young age to Robin Yount batting while Uecker called the game on the radio on a Easter Sunday as I sat eating pastel-colored candy corn. I remember the Brewers no-hitter in ’87 and my dad taking me for walks in ’84 while the beloved Chicago Cubs tried to make it to the World Series (he believed he was a jinx if he watched the games). But I don’t remember anything about the Packers. Growing up in Madison you can feel isolated from the rest of the state… Needless to say my first vivid memory of the Packers was when I was studying for an Algebra test in high school with my friend Adam, a giant Packer fan. I’m not sure of the circumstances (regular or post-season) but the Packers lost and Adam proceeced to jump up and run outside and moan defeatedly while rolling around in a snowbank. At that point I realized that this team must be worth caring about. Two years later came a Super Bowl victory and more rolling around in the snow by boys- but this time it was the thrill of victory that led them to the drifts. I watched the next year as the Packers lost the Super Bowl, and I’m pretty sure I was bummed. The next few years are hazy… Fast forward to 2003. The Packers were making a run for the playoffs but it was a longshot and depended on a number or factors. In the last game of the season the Packers had to win and the Vikings had to lose. It wasn’t looking good. I remember sitting on the couch unable to breath. The Packers won their game, but the Vikings were rolling against the Cardinals. My dad was on the computer with a slow internet connection trying to get the latest on the Vikings game- suddenly the t.v. came back from commercials and in some miraculous turn of events, the Cardinals had come back to win. The Packers were going to the playoffs. The phone rang. I knew it was going to be Dan (we were still just friends at the time) and all I could do was scream into the phone. No hello. No hi. No doubt. Just screaming. I knew it was over- there was no turning back- I had become as crazy as the rest of them. I was also moving to Wyoming in a few days.
The next few years I celebrated the victories and felt sorrow at the losses. I bragged about the loyalty of Packer fans to all of my new Patriot fans that I met while living in Wyoming. I sat in my loft on New Year’s Eve 2006 crying when Favre cried at the end of what I thought would be his last game. Back living in Wisconsin I cried my eyes out again when Favre retired the first time. You know what happened next. And now here we are. The Packers are in the Super Bowl in less than two hours. Rational or not, I will sit captivated on my couch watching the game. I will scream. I will pull my shirt over eyes, unable to watch. I will trip myself running around the house like a maniac. I might cry. My neighbor might think again that Dan and I are domestically abusing each other until he realizes that we are actually yelling about a Tramon Williams interception. It’s all fair game. And no matter what happens, you know it’s the Packers. And Packer fans, you know it’s us.
WISCONSIN FUN NEXT EXIT 