I take pleasure

There's a crevice in my oak desk that catches my pencil when I draw. Rubbed with graphite it makes a long, tidy row.










I take pleasure in orderly crop rows, lines of young peas arching lyrically over a hill, tasseled corn tops like sentinels prepared for march. These patterns are marked deeply in me. They’re the aesthetic of my first 22 years.

Home was south-central Minnesota. At 19 I spent three months employed by the agricultural superhero of the Midwest. The Jolly Green Giant handed me a set of keys to a pick-up truck and a map of colossal proportions. I was sent out to collect writhing, fluttering specimens from a patchwork of fields that blanket the lower third of the state.

My job title was Pest Control Technician. On less aggrandizing terms, I was a lowly bug collector. I hunted corn borers, stink bugs and cutworms, then plucked them from their homes on the underside of cornstalks and pea shoots. With the glass jar beside me in the passenger seat, I rattled back over gravel roads, through sleepy townships and back to headquarters in Le Seuer, MN.

Bark-eaters

Before we left Seattle Stef gave us guidebook to the Adirondack Park. It made good reading during all the long hours in the moving truck. We learned that Adirondack takes its name from the Iroquois word ha-de-ron-dah which translates as bark-eater. It was an insult; a name for the Algonquins who lived in the region where the Iroquois travelled to hunt, fish and gather plants. So, our new local wilderness area was named after a late prehistoric slam. But you've got to give those Algonquins some credit; they were resourceful.

Today we took our first hike in the park. We started out in Wanakena and walked the flat path (a former railroad bed) to High Rock. We picnic-ed on the river and saw five canoes during our short lunch break. To our dismay, the wild blueberries we'd read about had already been found by some other resourceful hikers.

bag o' hearts

Today is February 2nd. This can only mean one thing. Actually it can mean a couple of things:

1. I am wearing red, and I will wear red, pink or purple every day of February until the 14th.

2. It is Groundhog's Day...not very important.

Last night the Valentine festivities began. I opened a bag of cherry juju hearts, cut out hundreds of hearts from red, pink and brown construction paper and set out my favorite valentine books, cards and other treasures. My girl, Sarah, and I brainstormed all the details of our "2nd grade Valentine party" which includes, but is not limited to:

-invitations that are to die for (photos to come...)

-heart garland hanging from the windows and chandelier

-a mobile of flying cupids (cupids found at AxMan and attached with fishing line)

-tomato cilantro soup (Orangette) with grilled cheese stamped with I <3>

As I sat at the table with a pile of pink and red paper scraps, my heart felt like tomato soup boiling over. I have my mom, dad and sister to thank for this nearly irrational love of the heart-holiday. It was always a time to express love and appreciation for each other, not a time to give red roses or boxes of waxy chocolate.

xoxo

That's Amore

For Annie, Ani and Ann... and their endless pizza-making quest.

Pizza Dough
Adapted from Jamie Oliver

1 3/4 c. white bread flour
1 1/2 c. fine semolina flour (or white bread flour, same as above)
1 tsp. fine sea salt
1/4 oz. active dry yeast
1 tsp. sugar
1 1/4 c. warm water

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl. Transfer to counter and knead for 10 minutes or mix in stand mixer with dough hook for 10 minutes. Form dough into a taut ball (pinching dough on the underside to create even pressure across the top of the ball). Sprinkle with flour, cover and let rest for 15 minutes. Divide into 6 equal pieces and form each piece into six taut balls. Cover and let rest for 15 minutes, or refrigerate for up to an hour. Pinch and pull balls until large enough to toss into large circles. Top sparingly with your favorite pizza toppings and bake in 450 degree oven for 6-8 minutes.

Nothin' Fancy (a guest appearance)

Wanting to stay more closely connected, my little sis Annie and I have started sharing recipes and little inspirations with each other... from her life in Minneapolis, MN and mine in Seattle, WA. Her last email to me was so delightful I thought I'd post it and try to start an ongoing conversation with her. Nothing else going on with Frank as my neighbor. Annie, you out there? Keep 'em coming...

1.12.2010

Well, my life has officially changed. After dinner last night I watched Julie and Julia. It is everything I love in one movie…I guess I’m not sure if that is a good thing or bad…My life can be summarized in a 123-minute movie? Either way, this is the pasta I enjoyed before my life changed. It was pretty tasty and used up the squash that has been hanging out in the vegetable bowl since before Christmas! I’m no Julia Child, but once and a while I give myself a pat-on-the-back after dinner.

Butternut Squash, Spinach and Lemon Pasta

Ingredients:
1 medium butternut squash, cubed

1 large onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 T fresh rosemary

5 cups torn spinach

Juice of ½ lemon

Dried whole-wheat pasta

Fresh Parmesan

Peel, quarter and cube squash. Cook in olive oil in a large soup-pot over medium-low heat for about 20 minutes, or until softened. Boil salted water for cooking pasta. Cook like you always do. Remove from pot and let sit in large bowl while sautéing onion. Add garlic and chopped rosemary (dried rosemary has nothing on fresh, so don’t even think about it) once onion has softened slightly. Add squash. Lastly, tear spinach into rough, edible pieces and mix into squash/onion mix. Squeeze the juice of ½ a lemon to finish and season with salt and pepper to taste. Cook until flavors have mixed, about 7 minutes. Drain pasta, top with squash topping and parmesan cheese. Enjoy!

PS-I actually thought that I wouldn’t want to use the entire squash in the pasta (duh! Can you ever have too much squash?!), so I reserved half of it and cooked it in a covered baking dish with real apple cider, a pinch salt and oil for 25 minutes. I ended up putting it in the mix with the squash that I’d sautéed. It was deliciously sweet.

"M" is For...

Today's Sunday phone call home was especially sweet. Mom and I each sat outside enjoying spring, she in a breezy porch in Northfield , and I on a sunny patio in Seattle.

She reminded me of a fun tradition in elementary school, where thoughtful teachers organize a craft to surprise their students' moms for Mother's Day. I suppose most teachers know how much a homespun gift means to a parent. Just think about your basement or attic for a minute. Surely the things that remain include that clumsy acrostic poem from 3rd grade, the tinsel Christmas ornament (made on the top of a peanut butter jar), and a faded "Thumb-Bunny Loves You" finger print card.

Mom, on this our 28th Mother's Day as mama and daughter, here's a little poem for you. Clumsy? A little – but what acrostic isn't? I guess you'll have to print it and add it to the box downstairs.

"M" is for the mountains of love you show me,
"O" is for your "eau" - perfume of gold,
"T" is for the terrific songs you sang me,
"H" is for your hugs, which never grow old;
"E" for your exuberance, which leaves me pining,
"R" means right, and right you'll always be,
Put them all together, they spell "MOTHER,"
A word that means the world to me.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you.

Oh, and here's the link to the veggie burger concept we tried last night. Give them plenty of time to cool in the fridge and they'll firm up. You and Daddy will love them.

February, I love you.

28 days just isn't quite long enough for me and the lovely month of February. Somehow, she slipped by and I didn't make a single mention of my affection.
















I love how the days creep forward, gathering daylight, and how the gray skies, gray clouds and gray sidewalks get a pinch in the cheek from the all the red and pink for Heart Day. And here in the Northwest, I love that spring (yes, spring!) begins to make its first move.

During the month of February, I was astounded to see vibrant green shoots of galanthus (those nodding white snowdrops), daffodils, tulips pop up. Over this past weekend, all those brave bulbs made flowers.

But, can I step back for just a moment to make mention of February 14? Peter and I went to Cannon Beach, Oregon for an amazing weekend trip. What made our stay so strikingly unique were our accommodations (was our accommodations? Mom, help, grammar troubles). In a wind-blown 1920s corner store and inn, with an undeniably shabby exterior, a man named Hank runs an incredible business. His inn, a nine room guest house, is a hold-out from a different era. And Hank is a remarkable host! He's a James Beard recipe award-winner (bread, I believe), was the lead rose gardener in Portland (the City of Roses, no less) before retiring and purchasing the Wave Crest several years ago. He first discovered it as a guest in the 1970s, and he became friends with the elderly owners. Before he knew it, he was spending nearly every weekend in Cannon Beach.
















Hank, and this view out our window, made me want to follow in his shoes... making the trek to the coast each weekend. At the very least, I hope we'll visit him again. I note the following for myself, as much as for you, dear reader: for our next stay, we'll rent one of the rooms with a private bathroom, not just the shared one down the hall. And I won't bring my own reading material, because Hank has the most wonderfully plump bookshelves and loves to share.

Here's a little video from the beach. That giant rock is called Haystack Rock.