Thursday, September 7, 2017
If you find yourself in Ellensburg, WA at the end the August and in need of a pair of cowboy boots, may I suggest checking out the local Goodwill? On a tip from a friend we went and found the scene pictured above. One of the employees shared with me that the year prior, they sold around 2000 pairs of boots. My husband found a great pair, but sadly the womens boots were all too snug for me and the mens boots were all too big (story of my life). (If you're looking for brand new boots, I understand the recommended place is Old Mill Country Store.)
The big Ellensburg Rodeo and Kittitas County Fair was this past labor day weekend. My sister and her family traveled out from the "westside", (Seattle- west of the cascades) and it was so much fun to experience together.
On Friday afternoon, we all went to the county fair. Walking the rows of booths, we shared a fair specialty, an "elephant ear": it is an enormous fried sheet of sweet dough, doused in cinnamon and sugar. It was quite a sight to see my husband walking towards us with both arms supporting the width of the treat. After sugar-ing up, we took our two-year old niece, Amelia, around the barns to see all the animals: horses, chickens, sheep, goats, cows, and bunnies. Local kids work hard raising and caring for the animals themselves and they proudly stand in front of the animal pens to share about the particulars. In one barn, I met a young man who showed off his sheep with nubby tan and black fur and big eyes. I asked him how much bigger the sheep would get and he matter-of-factly answered that "pretty soon she will be going to freezer camp, so she won't get much bigger than this." I did not ask for the details of "freezer camp". As someone who has lived a long while separated from the reality of what stocks my grocery store cases, it is going to take a bit of adjusting on my part to get used to the idea of living so close to food sources. I know that local farming like this is the most healthy and responsible way but it was an interesting experience to look at an eight year old and realize he had a better handle on the food chain system than myself. (As part of annual tradition, the junior raised livestock is auctioned off each year and this years sales were over $460k. Read a little about it here.)
On Saturday morning was the rodeo parade. My sister, Amelia and I were invited to watch with some new friends. Their family gets up early to secure seats right downtown and generously invited us to join them. The parade was wonderful- entries were from all over and the parade itself last for about an hour and a half. From floats, candy was thrown to onlookers but some parade entries were more creative: one passed out bottles of water and another, shiny large Washington apples. The pacific northwest potato chip company, Tim's, had a handful of employees handing out snack sized bags. One of my favorite moments was seeing the parade participants from Yakama Nation, dancing in their gorgeous beaded regalia. From Tacoma, WA there was also a band of bag pipers, whose music always makes my sister and I cry. There were, naturally, lots of horses in the parade, and although I know nothing about them, even I could tell these were some extraordinary animals- coats gleaming, heads held high, and manes and tails tossing as they marched down the street to cheers and claps.
In the afternoon, my sister and I walked to the Rodeo. A friend generously gifted us tickets and passes to the Gold Buckle Clubhouse and I am afraid we are now forever spoiled by the experience of hanging out on the shaded clubhouse porch, drinking gin and tonics and watching the rodeo events. The Ellensburg Rodeo is considered one of the top 10 in the country and draws world-ranked participants. I think it is a pretty great to be introduced to a sport by such accomplished athletes. In particular, I was floored by the speed of the barrel racing.
In the evening, we all ate chicken caesar salads in our tiny rental house (I cooked chicken breasts in the crockpot until shredded and whipped up Julia Turshen's dressing. It really is the best) and then it was our husbands turn to head to the rodeo to watch the bull-riding competition. Elizabeth, Amelia and I picked up bubbles and ice cream bars at the grocery store and, in the waning light, played at the park by the Yakima River. Amelia did not want her ice cream bar, so I got to eat two.
It was such a fun weekend and we've already determined to make it a family tradition. For those of us familiar the crowds of Disneyland or the largesse of an LA County Fair, the local Rodeo and Fair are just about the right size: large enough to draw talented participants and special exhibits, but small enough to feel hometown and not commercialized. I am, admittedly, in my honeymoon phase of living in a new place, but still, it felt pretty special.
In other goings on, we are experiencing a terrible wildfire just to the northeast of us. The air quality is so poor that some local schools are delaying their start and we've stayed indoors most of this week. The pups are getting a little stir crazy but our inconvenience is nothing compared to folks whose property is threatened and those tasked with fighting the fire. Hoping all is resolved soon.
From around the web, here are a few of my favorite things:
For all the fuss about cooking from scratch, here is a list of things Bon Appetit says they will not make homemade. Do you agree? (I would never attempt homemade tater tots)
A friend survived a recent plane crash in Alaskan waters. Along with the pilot, he and three other passengers swam to shore and were later rescued. Here and here are interviews recounting the ordeal. This line gives me chills: "The feeling of stepping, or just kind of sliding out of the plane into bottomless water, it was a feeling I won't forget."
This takes some serious dedication and talent to accomplish.
At night, if I can't seem to turn my brain off, I love to watch these clips (#7 may be my favorite).
Finally, for those of us who enjoy a well-placed cuss word, "The Social Benefits of Swearing."
Happy Thursday Friends!
Friday, September 1, 2017
Please do not imagine that dinner time at my house always finds us enjoying impeccable meals. I can make some real stinkers. Almost more frustrating than a dinner that completely bombs is one that is just like okay. If dinner is a full acknowledged disaster, we can move on and enjoy a bowl of frosted flakes. But when dinner is just okay, we trudge through it. I found myself in such a situation recently when I tried a new recipe for Provençal halibut. It was pan fried halibut steaks with a sauce of tomatoes, Kalamata olives, capers, a splash of balsamic vinegar, and basil. Except I forgot to add the basil. But I don’t think that’s what doomed the dish. I wanted to try something different with halibut and landed on this and it did turn out to be different, we just didn’t like it that much. I served it with parmesan roasted cauliflower, which I liked better than anything else on my plate.
The next day, I was going to have the leftover halibut with sauce for lunch and realized I was really not excited about it. Also, most of the time, fish is terrible reheated. I once worked in a building with a sign in the breakroom stating that microwaving fish was not allowed. No matter how fresh the fish, the smell of it reheating is pretty unappetizing. So, here I was, not looking forward to lunch and I decided to cut my losses. Rather than doctor up the Provençal sauce further, I pulled the halibut steaks from it, made a little halibut salad, layered it on thick slices of sourdough bread, and broiled it with a lid of cheddar and parmesan cheese. It was the opposite of okay. It was like, brilliantly good.
I am a little tempted to call this a tartine. I basically live to call an open-faced sandwich tartine. (I never mind a little pretension.) Tartine is the French word for an open-faced sandwich, but, while this includes gorgeous halibut, it’s roots are more diner. I think melt sandwiches are the hero of leftovers. This sandwich could easily be made with leftover salmon, canned tuna or grilled chicken. I think the success of a melt hinges on two items: some type of pickle element and a good amount of toasted cheese. Without a vinegary bite, it is almost too luxurious- all that gorgeous mayonnaise and cheese is best enjoyed with a little relief for the palate, be it from relish, pickle or caper. I happen to really love capers with halibut but feel free to substitute what you enjoy best. As for cheese, I use whatever is in the fridge. The only requirement being it needs to melt well and also there should be enough of it. This is not time to skimp.
Which brings me to a note about the bread. One of the things I was just sure I was going to have to give up when moving to small town, was artisan bread. My Trader Joes in SoCal spoiled me and I was used to boules and long baguettes. Post-move, I thought it would be Orowheat and wonder bread from here on out and that good bread was something I would need to learn to make. I made my peace with that. Dang, was I wrong. About a 5 minute walk from our rental house is Vinman's Bakery and the folks there make the most gorgeous bread. They have their classics (multi-grain, sourdough, etc) and then everyday there are additional bread specials with names like German Farm Bread and Orange Raisin Rye (both excellent). I am slowly making my way through it all. My routine is the dogs and I walk Josh to work and then once or twice a week we stop back at the bakery. I tether the dogs outside and step in to a space filled with the smells of yeast and flour and pastry filled with cream and rhubarb compote (heaven). When you buy a loaf, the helpful bakery staff offer to slice it up on their fancy slicing machine. The other day when I picked out my selection, the gentleman behind the counter apologized and said the bread was too warm for them to pre-slice for me. I grinned like an idiot at the thought of someone apologizing for warm bread. The puppies and I returned home to a second breakfast of fresh bread with butter.
Halibut salad melts
Makes two large open-faced sandwiches
2 cups cooked halibut, broken into bite sized pieces
¼ cup good mayonnaise
¼ cup chopped celery (about 2 small ribs)
scant ¼ cup chopped scallions (about 1 scallion)
1 ½ tablespoons drained capers
juice of half a lemon
salt and pepper
2 large slices of thick bread, lightly toasted
½ cup grated sharp cheddar cheese
¼ cup grated parmesan cheese
1 medium tomato
1) Mix together the halibut salad. To avoid smashing the fish too much, gently toss all the ingredients together with a fork.
2) Move an oven rack to the highest placement and turn the oven broiler to high.
3) On a rimmed cookie sheet place the two large slices of toasted bread (I toast mine in the broiler, but you're welcome to use a toaster. The key is to just lightly toast it, as the bread will get another dose of heat from the broiler). Top bread with generous scoops of the halibut salad and then distribute the cheese.
4) Place under broiler and broil until cheese melts and starts to bubble. Keep an eye on it- it only takes moments under the broiler to go from toasty perfection to inedible charcoal.
5) Remove from heat and let stand momentarily. Serve topped with slices of tomato. Sprouts are also good.
4) Place under broiler and broil until cheese melts and starts to bubble. Keep an eye on it- it only takes moments under the broiler to go from toasty perfection to inedible charcoal.
Monday, August 28, 2017
Come with me
into the field of sunflowers.
Their faces are burnished disks,
their dry spines
creak like ship masts,
their green leaves,
so heavy and many,
fill all day with the sticky
sugars of the sun.
Come with me
to visit the sunflowers,
they are shy
but want to be friends;
they have wonderful stories
of when they were young -
the important weather,
the wandering crows.
Don't be afraid
to ask them questions!
Their bright faces,
which follow the sun,
will listen, and all
those rows of seeds -
each one a new life! -
hope for a deeper acquaintance;
each of them, though it stands
in a crowd of many,
like a separate universe,
is lonely, the long work
of turning their lives
into a celebration
is not easy. Come
and let us talk with those modest faces,
the simple garments of leaves,
the coarse roots in the earth
so uprightly burning.
- Mary Oliver
from the Book "Dream Work"
In late August, it feels like every yard in the neighborhood is growing sunflowers. They loll their friendly faces over tall fences and stretch upward on impossibly thin stalks. I was thinking about them and then stumbled over this poem by Mary Oliver and wanted to share it with you all. The picture above was taken during this morning's walk and the yellow and orange of the sunflowers and marigolds seemed to pulse in the gray light. I salute this homeowner for such a cheery front yard.
The town is buzzing with preparation for the upcoming Ellensburg Rodeo. I am unfamiliar with the sport, but our town has been hosting since 1923 and it is now considered one of the top 10 Rodeo's in the US. The participants are world-class and I'm looking forward to taking it all in (and hopefully some good fair food too!)
Best wishes to all for the week ahead.
Friday, August 25, 2017
I know that years from now, when I think back to this summer, two things will come to mind: a ridiculous pop song about Paris and the local fresh sweet corn.
One of the interesting things about change is the new and inconsistent rhythm it introduces- there are days jammed with stress (the day the movers arrived at our California home to pack up the moving truck was a ballet of chaos) contrasted by stretches of lull and inactivity.
A good example of the lull was the drive from California to Washington. Pretty much a straight shot in driving and we did not stop much a long the way. To keep us entertained, I came up with a last minute game: we went to Target and stood in front of their small display of CDs. (I know, I know, buying CDs in a store? It felt very 1995.) The game was we each got to pick one CD and, during the drive, we had to listen it in it's entirety- no skipping songs we didn't like, no complaining. You can employ varies strategies in this game: you can either pick a CD you both will love or pick a CD your road trip partner will hate, but they can turn right back around and dish the same out to you. I was super tempted to torture my husband with The Best Hits of Nickleback but decided it wasn't worth it. We ended up with U2 Joshua Tree live at Madison Square Garden (my pick) and NOW vol. 62 (my husbands pic). He picked the NOW CD partially to beat me at my own game and partially because pop music is perfect for keeping us awake on long stretches of road.
For the unfamiliar, the NOW albums are comprised of the latest pop hits. Reading through the CD case details (it was a long drive) I learned they are produced something like 3x year. I think the last time I bought one of them, they were at volume 3 or 4, which yes, makes me feel ancient.
Listening to it was fun/diverting because, for most of the CD, we were unfamiliar with the songs or artists. It was fun to approach it without assumptions or prior knowledge. On the second play through, we listened only to the songs we liked best. Lady Gaga (of course we're familiar with her music) is insanely talented and makes it sound easy but just try singing along to "A Million Reasons", that is some serious work. There was also some nonsense song where everything rhymes with "Paris" that is fun- as in "We were living in Paris...something something something...terrace" Cracks us up each time.
This little game is made even more hilarious by the fact that now we are recognizing these songs on the radio or when we run errands in businesses. Forever, these songs will haunt us, remind us of this summer and make us laugh.
The other thing that will always remind me of this summer is cooking, for the first time, with all the beautiful Washington produce. I was not prepared for how much I would be influenced by the seasonality of ingredients, simply by being so close to where they are grown. The first few weeks I was here, it was all about blueberries and cherries. Then apricots made an appearance. Now it's all about corn and peaches. The corn at my grocery store is called bicolor, includes both yellow and while kernels and is 50c an ear. My favorite way to eat fresh corn is grilled and with basil butter. Sadly, we do not have a grill yet and so I wanted a preparation that would pull in some of those smokey elements. Enter caramelized onions and smoked paprika. I served this corn as part of a salad with fresh greens, bbq shredded chicken, homemade julienned pickled vegetables (absolutely worth the effort- recipe here) and a dollop of sour cream. On my first grocery trip I bought four ears and it was so good I went back the next day and bought eight more. The next batch of corn I sautéed up as well but this time included some cubes of fresh zucchini and layered it on homemade pizza dough, brushed with garlic olive oil, along with mozzarella and parmesan cheese. The sweet bright corn was perfect with the creamy salty cheese and chewy garlic scented dough.
A friend messaged me the other day to ask "Are you spending time in the kitchen? I know that often centers you." She is right. When my world gets topsy turvy, the kitchen becomes my hub. As Nora Ephron famously wrote:
- "What I love about cooking is that after a hard day, there is something comforting about the fact that if you melt butter and add flour and then hot stock, it will get thick! It’s a sure thing! It’s sure thing in a world where nothing is sure..."
I love the "sureness" of cooking but I also love that when I do it, I am nurturing both myself and my husband. We all have to eat and our particular rhythm says we need to have three meals a day and it is such a relief to know that no matter the chaos, I can create the space to say I will pause and do this with care and thought. I love the actual process as much as I love the end product. I love the thousand decisions along the way. An example from last nights dinner: before adding cilantro to the salad, should I pluck the tender leaves off the stem and then rough chop? or should I fine chop the whole bundle, stems and all, into a kind of heady lemony mulch? I don't even really mind doing the dishes because that means portioning up leftovers as some kind of treasure to help solve tomorrow's challenges (is there anything better than leftover pie for breakfast?) Also, because of that beautiful moment at the end where the kitchen counter is clear and all is put back in it's right spot and the knowledge that tomorrow (or in a few hours) I can walk back and create all over again.
In her book, Small Victories, Julia Turshen writes that we all just need to admit that caramelizing onions takes much longer than we think it does. (At least I think it was her that said this, all my books remain packed up in the 2nd bedroom of my rental house, so it's going to be a while until I can verify). I couldn't agree more. Recipes that say "caramelize onions for 10 minutes" are just kidding themselves. I genuinely think 30 minutes is needed to properly get the job done. While that may seem like a long-time, anything less is just missing out on that deep flavor. The smokey sweetness of the onions, helped along by the paprika, is darn near perfect with the crisp corn. The good news is I think a big batch of caramelized onions could be made in advance, say on a Sunday afternoon, and stashed in the fridge for quicker weeknight meal prep.
sautéed corn with caramelized onions and smoked paprika
1 large yellow onion
1- 2 tablespoon olive oil
4 ears of fresh corn, kernels cut from the cob (about 3 cups)
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 tablespoon butter
1) Put a good glug of olive (1-2 tablespoons) in a large saute pan and heat over medium high.
2) Add onion and cook for a couple of minutes, stirring occasionally, until onions are translucent.
3) Add a good pinch of salt and the smoked paprika. Reduce heat to low and cook until onions are caramelized- deepen in color and are meltingly soft. You want the heat low enough that the onions do not burn but not so low that they don't cook. I find this step usually takes me about 30 minutes. I use the time to tidy up the kitchen and every so often give the onions a little stir.
4) Scoop the onions out of the pan, but leave all the good stickiness on the bottom of the pan. Raise heat to medium high and add 1/2 tablespoon of butter, along with the corn.
5) Saute the corn for 2-3 minutes until crisp tender (seriously, this takes almost no time) and stir back in the reserved caramelized onions. Serve warm or room temperature.
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Before I moved to Washington, in our early excited phone calls, my sister said one of the things we could look forward to is blueberry picking together in the summer on her side of the cascades, and then in the fall, apple picking on my side of the mountains. Through the hard moments of this move, packing boxes and tearful goodbyes, I have stored up this snapshot of future life - life lived closer with my big sister - to help buoy my spirits.
There was a part of me that worried it wouldn't happen: these fruit picking family outings. Like people who live in Southern California but rarely make it to the beach (guilty as charged), it is easy to have expectations and dreams of the person we could be if we changed our life, if we moved somewhere else. Part of the early struggles of a new life are the comparison of the reality with the picture in my head. I will say there have been some hard days, some disappointments. But in this one area, I underestimated my sister: just three weeks in to my new residency, I found myself with her at a blueberry farm.
A couple of weeks ago I spent 5 days staying in Seattle with my sister and her family. My husband had work commitments out in the area and so we all packed up and drove out on Wednesday morning. When I pulled the suitcases out the day before, I noticed Duke and Harriet looked a little nervous. They have adjusted so well to all the changes, but at this point, I wonder if they think we don't have a home. They have stayed in such a hodgepodge of places over the last few weeks: a packed up California house, hotel rooms, an empty rental house and then the same rental house packed with California boxes, etc. But one of the benefits of crate trained dogs is that as long as their crates are with them, they have a bit of security. When we move the crates to carry them outside to put in the car, they tried to jump in them to assert that where the crates go, they do too.
On Thursday morning, three of us: myself, Elizabeth and Amelia, drove to Mountainview Blueberry Farm in Snohomish. We all wore our sun hats, as the weather was unusually hot for the Seattle area- 90+. The staff at the farm set us up with buckets and pails with strings tied on and directed us towards the best areas for picking.
My previous experience with blueberry picking has all been in the wild of Southeast Alaska: directions to berry patches include notes like "look for the tallest pine tree on the right side of the road, just after the 3rd curve, and walk straight down hill". Wild blueberries themselves are much smaller and their flavor concentrated, but picking them is the focused work of plucking the berries one by one from the bush. At the blueberry farm, I encountered blueberries that grow in clusters so that I could run my hand down a branch and the ripe berries popped off their stems, plunking directly into my bucket. We figured we had about an hour for picking, so we worked furiously. Amelia picked too but also ate and also dumped her bucket out. At one point, my sister accidentally spilled blueberries out of her own bucket and cried out "oh no!" Amelia tottered over and said, "It's okay momma, can I give you a hug?" She is such a sweetheart.
At the farm, there were other groups picking alongside us in the rows. There was just enough distance and privacy from the bushes that people felt free to converse amongst themselves but, in reality, all of us could easily hear one another. I loved catching snippets of conversation from a group of teenagers that someone had hauled along with them. They weren't particularly interested in berry picking but rather recounting the past weeks activities: who had been where and at which party etc. Their conversation brought such a wave of nostalgia from teenage summers- where it felt like there was so much possibility if only one could be in the right place at the right time. A row over from me, I listened as two young moms, babies in backpacks, chatted about finds at the recent Nordstrom sale and lamented an upcoming family reunion ("My own mother won't help me with the kids at all!").
After an hour, we decided to call it. The weight of carrying my bucket was causing an ache in my shoulders, so I was secretly hopeful about the amount of picking I accomplished. Under the pop-up canopies at the front of the farm entrance, we watched as our berries were poured into cardboard flats for weighing. We were just shy of 12 lbs! Easily the most blueberries my sister and I have ever picked in one setting. Here is a snapshot of my berry bucket with my fingers stained from picking.
We took our berry flats home- carefully placed in the backseat of the car. Once there, while Amelia napped, we picked over the berries to remove stems, leaves, snails and whatever else had been snagged along the way. The berries then spent a good soak in cold water- distributed amongst large bowls that covered two thirds of my sisters kitchen counters. It was satisfying work. After they were cleaned up, we spread 3/4 of the berry haul in single layers on large cookie sheets and placed them in the freezer. We left the remaining 1/4 of berries available for snacking from the fridge.
Late that evening my husband joined us back at my sisters house and he and my brother in law walked to a nearby brewery for a nightcap. They returned from the walk with a bounty of foraged wild blackberries. The polished purple beads of the blackberries along with the blueberries inspired the dessert for our following evening out. My sister (such a great planner!) snagged 4 tickets for us all to the Allen Stone concert at Chateau Ste Michelle, a winery just north of Seattle that hosts outdoor summer concerts. Amelia (and Duke and Harriet) stayed home with a sitter and my sister and I packed an easy picnic supper and two bottles of wine.
Our dinner included a gorgeous tomato, basil and mozzarella salad assembled by my sister with yellow heirloom tomatoes. My contribution was dessert- a riff on my favorite Eton mess. If you're not familiar with the dessert, it is a jumbled together mix of berries, whipped cream, and broken meringues. I like to let guests assemble their own, so they can portion out more or less of each of the components as they desire. It can all be made in advance, and as long as elements stay cool, it travels quite nicely. In my California life, I brought this treat into work several times. The magic of this dish is the alchemy of crisp sharply sweet meringue with edges melted by tart soft berries, all held together by a cloud of cream. Trader Joe's sells a tub of vanilla meringues which are just perfect for the job. While Eton mess is traditionally made with strawberries, I feel no loyalty and regularly substitute whatever berry I like. I like to cook the berries down slightly to be sure there is enough of a sauce to soften up the meringues. I include a smidge of cinnamon with the sauce because my mom always includes it in her blueberry cobbler. I like the pairing- I feel like the cinnamon brings out a certain muskiness in the blueberries. You are welcome to omit, but I'd highly encourage giving it a try.
While also untraditional, the addition of the mascarpone to the whipped cream provides a bit of tang and results in a mixture that flirts with a sort of deconstructed cheesecake. I add vanilla extract, but I also think a little citrus zest folded in at the end could be wonderful. (Mascarpone is a soft Italian cheese and, like cream cheese, can be used in both sweet and savory preparations. Here is one of my favorite ways to enjoy it.)
The Chateau Ste Michelle concert venue was charming- like a smaller, more casual version of Hollywood Bowl. Instead of bleachers and benches, it is a large open field and people bring blankets or low camping chairs. Allen Stone put on a wonderful show. He is crazy talented and has a great goofy sense of humor. As the sun set, the air cooled enough to remind me I was in Washington, and I thought about how I was with people I love, eating food we had picked and made together. It was a lucky moment where the person I hoped to be met the person I am.
Please note: the berry sauce recipe below will make extra which is excellent to stash in the fridge for serving on pancakes or even muddled into cocktails (!)
blueberry and blackberry Eton mess with whipped mascarpone
4 cups fresh blueberries
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2-3 tablespoons lemon juice
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 cup water
2 cups fresh blackberries
8 oz. container of mascarpone
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4-5 tablespoons granulated sugar
7.75 oz package of vanilla meringues (I'd recommend enough for 3-4 meringues per person)
1) In a medium sized heavy bottomed sauce pan, stir together all the ingredients, except the blackberries. Reserve those for the end.
2) Heat over medium high heat until sauce starts to bubble (berries will burst and release juices), then lower the temperature and cook until it thickens up slightly. As I shared above, I keep this sauce on the loose side and don't let it get too jammy or thick, but it is entirely up to your preference.
3) Remove sauce from heat and set aside to cool. Once the temperature has reduced, stir in the blackberries. This sauce can be made in advance and kept in the fridge.
for whipped mascarpone
1) In a mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, add the mascarpone and stir for a few seconds on medium speed, just to smooth things out.
2) Add the vanilla and sugar and stir again to incorporate.
3) Add in about a third of the heavy cream and start the speed out slow so that it is incorporating (and not splattering cream everywhere), then increase speed to start to whip the cream and build the volume. Do not whip for so long that you've actually made the whipped cream, stop while it is still soft and add the second third of the heavy cream. Follow the same steps: start out with slow speed so that the heavy liquid is smoothly mixed in and then increase speed to just start to see an increase in volume. At this point, stop the mixer and check for sweetness. If more sugar is needed, add here- it will give it time to dissolve. Add the remaining third of the heavy cream, once incorporated, increase the speed until the mixture is whipping and thickens up like whipped cream. Be sure to watch carefully as this happens pretty quickly and want to avoid making butter. Chill the cream mixture until ready to serve.
1) Place the meringues in a large ziplock baggie and on a heavy surface, smash down with your fist to break into large pieces- about quarter or half-dollar size (any smaller than that and they just disappear in the mixture).
2) Set out the berry sauce, whipped mascarpone, and crushed meringues. Provide guests with small bowls to assemble their own Eton mess. Enjoy!
Friday, July 28, 2017
These days are all about the temporary: living out of boxes, in a (hopefully) short-term rental house. While there is so much that feels open-ended, like my sentences are all end with an ellipsis, I am finding it helpful to establish, where I can, consistency and a sense of normalcy. Even the mundane is welcome at this point. My husband and I have been getting up around 5:30am to walk/jog. The picture above was taken the first morning we visited Irene Rinehart park.
As a way of establishing another familiar process, I thought I would also start to regularly share a few of my current favorite things:
Grantchester season 3 just wrapped up and I am not entirely sure what to think of the direction the characters have taken. Is anyone else out there watching?
I think listening to this song transforms any situation. I used to listen to it on the morning train into LA and look at the houses flashing by the trains path and think of all the people waking up to start their days. After our recent move, the first morning we jogged down by the Yakima river, both my husband and I put in ear buds and played this song. It was our soundtrack and accompanied only by the crunch of the gravel path and whistles of birds. Pretty magical.
This article in the LA Times made me smile (and naturally, it is about dachshunds).
For those who may wonder: how are Duke and Harriet adjusting? Here is Harriet soaking up the central Washington sunlight. She celebrated her 6th birthday this week and I cried: out of gratitude for the love and joy that she has brought to our lives and out of exhaustion for this particular season we are in.
Our rental house has a small backyard, but it is much larger than the CA patio they previously had, so the pups are loving it. I like how Harriet appears to be "smizing".
Happy Friday friends!
Monday, July 24, 2017
Hello from a new place! We arrived in central Washington late afternoon on Sunday 7/16. We drove in on interstate 82 and dropped over the Umtanum and Manastash ridges from Yakima, and as our new hometown was coming into view, I pressed play on the song "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. It felt right.
However, I am proving out the wisdom that just because a decision is right, doesn't mean it will be easy. These first few days have been overwhelming. My sincere apologies to all my friends who have done big moves: I know I was not as understanding as was warranted or needed. There are so many things to learn and adjust to: my initial trip to the grocery store took 90 minutes, most of it trying to find where the heck everything was located.
The moving company arrived Tuesday with all our items. It feels to good to have both us, the dogs and our belongings in the same spot. Escrow closed the same day on our home in SoCal. So, in all capacities, I have moved- this is where I live now. Sometimes my brain can't quite catch up with it. The first night sleeping in our new home I rolled onto my right side expecting to see faint light through our bedroom sliding glass doors. Instead I found a solid wall and it took a few minutes to realize where I was and in which state.
While my little world is topsy-turvy, there are graces along the way. My sister calls them "text messages from God", which I think is good description: not earth-shattering, stone tablet-creating communications, but moments and interactions that help me feel loved and connected.
I have a perfect example: while the movers were unloading the semi-truck full of our boxes (and I was fretting terribly: has everything arrived? is anything damaged? what room should I put this and this and this in? will it all fit into our dollhouse sized rental house? ) I noticed a girl of about 7 years old watching the activity from a safe vantage point on the sidewalk. She stepped off her scooter but was still wearing her hot pink helmet, elbow and knee pads. She watched for about 15 minutes and I waved at her and she waved back. About 30 minutes later she returned with her older sister and marched right up to me with a jar of lemonade and handwritten card welcoming us to the neighborhood. It was the kindest gesture and we chatted for a few minutes. The girls told me which house was there's and that they have a Corgi who will always bark when we walk by.
It was so helpful to me, to feel welcomed. Daily there are gains in this direction and I use them to buoy me up. I am just terrible at navigating change and hold on to all the encouragement I can.
And of course, I am still me, even in a new place, which means I look to my kitchen as a place of centering. On Wednesday, it was one of the first rooms I tackled to unpack boxes and organize. By Thursday, the weather turned cool. Well, cool for me: 75 with a strong wind. I wore a sweater to the grocery store and was kindly questioned by the cashier, "How can you possibly wear a sweater in this heat?" She accepted my explanation that I am from SoCal and the grocery bagger tried to lessen the awkwardness of the interaction by saying, "Well, it is a very nice sweater." I purchased a gorgeous deep coral wild sockeye salmon and, owing to the cold weather and all, made a pot of salmon chowder with one of the fillets. It was cozy and delicious and so perfectly comforting. I do not yet have the chowder recipe developed to share with you all, but it is on my list of things I'd like to write about.
In the meantime, I will share what I did with the second fillet: an easy baked salmon recipe. As I grew up regularly having this dish, it is pure comfort food to me. Good fish, mayonnaise and salt and pepper is all that is necessary. The thin coating seals in the moisture of the fish and adds a creamy saltiness. I purchased a whole salmon, so I did this with a full fillet but I think the process could easily be applied to smaller portions.
simple baked salmon
1 salmon fillet, skin on (approx 2- 2 1/2 pounds)
2-3 tablespoons good mayonnaise
salt and pepper
1) Preheat oven to 350. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.
2) Place the salmon on the baking sheet, skin side down. Pat the fish dry with paper towels and season with salt and pepper. Using a butter knife spread a thin even layer of mayonnaise over the salmon. As far as the thickness of the layer, it should be opaque, but still thin, like 1/16th of an inch or less.
3) Bake fish for approximately 20 minutes, until it flakes easily with a fork. The cooking time will vary depending on the thickness of your piece of fish. To ensure I did not overbake, after 10 minutes, I started checking every 3 minutes.
4) Enjoy with a spritz of lemon. Leftovers are wonderful when made into salmon salad sandwiches.