The Baking Phase

We have entered the baking phase.

"Wacky Cake" seemed appropriate for the times and boy, was it good.

I may never use a boxed cake mix again. There's something very satisfying about conjuring up a delicious chocolate dessert from scratch, without any butter or eggs.

They say baking is just chemistry. Alchemy is more like it. 

Ten Lessons from Staying Home

1. Nature is everywhere. I am lucky to have a semi-wild backyard that shows me something new every day. We don't have to buy a bunch of special equipment and travel to an exotic location to have "a nature experience." All we have to do is walk outside and look.

2. Relieved of busyness, families spend time together: walking the dog, riding bikes, throwing a baseball, jogging. I've seen people I've never seen before, who live right down the street.

3. The unthinkable can happen. I'm no prepper, but my environmental background has exposed me to some serious ideas and challenges. Like the burden we place on Mother Earth by the things we take for granted. Like the golden veneer of consumption and prosperity that masks a system with serious and fundamental flaws. Like the truth of food insecurity. It wasn't too long ago I asked someone, "What would you do for food if there was no Publix?" (Publix is a major grocery store where I live.) My companion looked at me like I had two heads, clearly considering the question too wacky to deserve an answer. I was really asking, but I was over the line even voicing such a thought. Now that grocery stores are stressed by circumstances and shelves are empty of key items, that question isn't as wacky anymore, huh?

4. Next day delivery was awesome. I'm not sure when it will happen again. Things I've ordered are 2 or 3 weeks out right now.

5. We could have been doing some pretty great things all along. In the past week, I have taken a yoga class, "walked" along the High Line in New York City, heard some wonderful concerts, had long video calls with several dear friends, and joined a reading group with a famous author -- all from the comfort of my living room. I've also cooked and eaten all my meals at home, strolled the yard every evening, and gotten some long-standing chores accomplished. In some ways, I've been busier than ever. I've been having more fun, too. 

6. Leadership takes courage. Sometime it's lacking. And sometimes it appears in unlikely places, from unlikely people.

7. Loquats are delicious. I tried them once, long ago, and they were unripe and inedible. I didn't know that, but I never tried again. However, given the abundance on my backyard tree and some extra time on my hands, I gave it another go -- resulting in a fruit-in-hand epiphany and a successful cobbler. They are more seed than fruit, but well worth the trouble. I will not forget this.

8. Being science-deficient can be fatal, not only to yourself but to others. I have a few friends who still believe this is all a big hoax or an overreaction. They have continued with their normal lives, complaining that "Everything's closed!" They are not convinced by the medical community's concern that if we are unable to "flatten the curve" and spread out the impact of this virus, the care system will be overwhelmed. That means rationed care. That means hard decisions. That means denying life-saving help to the patients who are deemed less worthy of saving. This is a hard truth. Facing it requires a basic understanding of math, and critical thinking, and a willingness to rely on qualified experts when the water gets too deep. I have done enough research to be convinced that "Better sorry than safe" is not a good choice here. Those who lack the ability to form their own opinions, based on their own research, are risking lots of lives, not just their own.   

9. The cats do nothing all day. And they do it very well.

10. I like staying home. I just wish it wasn't for this reason.

Stay safe and be well, everyone! Love and light to you all.

Report on a Pandemic

Or, as I'm determined to think of it, a staycation.

Looking at the bright side is one of the things I do best. I'm not a denier. I think I'm more of a realist. Sometimes I'm a bit of a doomsayer. Weird mix, I know. But it works for me.

Going forward, I expect that Florida probably will have lots of cases of Covid-19. In addition to our regular residents, we are a combination of retirees, tourists, snowbirds, and spring breakers. There are plenty of "deniers" in those categories, not concerned for various reasons. Our governor has not moved aggressively to flatten the curve. I think it's going to be bad. My goal is to stay well enough not to have to go to the ER for any reason -- coronavirus, car accident, heart attack, you name it. Right now, it's not where I want to be. Not for myself. Not to take up resources needed by others.   

I've been working from home since last Tuesday. It's not as much of a disruption for me as it is for some people. Most of my workday consists of sitting alone in my office, navigating paperless files, looking up information on the internet, and typing into the computer. Thanks to the ultra-modern approach of the firm's managers, all that can easily be done from home -- minus occasional social interaction with my coworkers, which is something I will miss. I've been emailing them more often, intending to stay connected. It's not unlikely that we will have one of those "virtual happy hours" pretty soon, just to catch up.

My workday is also minus the 3-hour daily commute, which is a mixed blessing. The standard 3 hours includes about 2 hours of solid reading time on the train; missing out on that is the downside. The upside is less exposure. Even when I drive the car, it takes 2 hours and oh, the traffic. Overall, I'd say it's a plus.

One of my tasks this weekend was working up a daily schedule, to make sure I still get everything done. Unstructured time tends to disappear on me, and right now the schedule is pretty much mine for the making. Time for exercise and reading has been scheduled. I hope to rise to this opportunity for a reset.   

My neighbors have had mixed reactions to this threat. My elderly neighbors think it's all a big overreaction. One of them is planning to move and continues to go out every day on various errands associated with packing up her household. I have been cordial but kept my physical distance. My other neighbors are young and have a 2-year-old. They are both bartenders -- and both out of work now, because the bars have been closed. I will be doing what I can to help them. And yet, in our back fence conversation yesterday, guess what they wanted to talk about: How was I doing? Did I need anything? They had plenty of food, if I needed any. Just let them know, okay?       

I also have friends in the medical industry. Two of them are ER nurses, in two separate counties. It is crazy there. Lots of sick people, and not much Covid-19 testing available (there are very specific requirements for who gets tested, and from what I've seen, folks who may have gotten it from community spread won't be tested, so we will never know). There have been few positives among those who are tested -- but supplies are running short. My friends are worried about masks and gloves for themselves and medical supplies, available beds, and equipment for patients.

I haven't been to the grocery store in a week. I wouldn't say that I stocked up last week, but I bought a few extra non-perishables. There were no eggs. There were no plant-based milks, although I managed to get regular milk (which I then gave to a friend who needed it). There was no butter. Canned goods were really picked over and I didn't need any, anyway. I got cornmeal, but flour was pretty much gone. There was plenty of ice cream. I got lentils and some interesting turmeric spaghetti. There was no bagged salad. There were no potatoes or onions. I was able to get apples, oranges, and green, yellow and red peppers. I also splurged on almond-maple nut butter and hooray for that! It is delicious.

Last weekend there was no toilet paper. I just needed it on the regular schedule and was able to get it from Amazon because I didn't want to chase all over town for it. Ditto for a thermometer (I can't believe I didn't have one!). It took Amazon a week to deliver. That made me realize how spoiled I have been by the customary delivery times.

I might have to go to the grocery again eventually -- but it doesn't seem worth risking my life for it or burdening the system anymore than it already is. Friday evening I drove the car around the block to make sure it would still start. Yesterday I went by my local bookstore to pick up a couple of books I'd ordered. Like all small local businesses, they are hurting, so I thought I would support them. They promised curbside service, so I called when I arrived in their parking lot and they brought the books out to me. Then I went to the gas station and filled up the tank. Then I went home and washed the heck out of my hands. The roads were very quiet, compared with the usual Saturday. The grocery store parking lot was full.

As different as things are, I feel I have been prepared by literature for these kinds of changes. I'll save that for another post. 

Meanwhile, spring is happening. I have the windows open (it's warm, but not hot yet). The mockingbirds and cardinals sing enthusiastically, and the cats have plenty to smell and watch. My wild-ish yard is blooming with various volunteer flowers. Life goes on. 

This Bit of Summer

I could have styled this photo better (just a slight turn would have covered the sink drain with a leaf, right?) but I just slapped and snapped. Obviously.

And so you get a microcosm of early summer: a surprise hydrangea, backed up with some organic tomatoes in a blue bowl, and a sweet potato and an onion in one of my favorites, a blue-and-white polka dot bowl.

The hydrangea isn't native and so I am inclined to look askance at it, except when it fluffs up these pretty pale blue or creamy white flowers, as if to woo me into having more positive feelings about it. When it's not flowering, the only reason I tolerate it is that Kayak Guy's dad probably planted it, an unknown number of years ago.

The tomatoes come from the nearby CSA and the downtown farmers market, and are so much more deliciously local than what the grocery store offers. The CSA is almost done for the year -- once this run of summer squash ends -- because the Florida growing season is essentially backwards from traditional garden timing.

The farmers market will soldier on through the hot months, but will switch over to okra and collards, two things that I like even less than hydrangeas and store-bought tomatoes. It may be a long summer.

I remember buying the polka dot bowl on a "junking" trip with a dear friend, about 25 years ago when I collected blue-and-white pottery and displayed it in an antique cupboard. Now all I really collect is books, being more inclined to shed most other possessions whenever I can. But I've kept a few of my very favorite pieces from the decorating days, and I've kept the friend, too.

Such small things, and so much pleasure from each of them. There's a lesson there somewhere.

This Could Be Good

No-dish apple pie for crust-lovers. It's nearly flat like a frisbee and adapted by my own laziness from a recipe in the King Arthur Flour catalog. Tomorrow will tell the tale of the taste.

Oh, and: next time I berate myself for not having any willpower, I'll remember that I didn't tap into it tonight, hot from the oven. Not that I wasn't tempted. Numerous times.

Stuck in Traffic

If you've got to do rush hour, there are worse places to be than next to the gourmet cupcake truck.

Ready for Summer

I've never been able to locate this delicious hot pepper relish at any of my local markets, so I ordered 4 jars from MyBrands.com, an outfit in New York that specializes in hard-to-find items.

They arrived today, carefully packaged with double boxing, plenty of padding, and a hefty swath of bubble wrap. The company went to a lot of trouble to ensure my order arrived safe and sound.

And now my sub sandwiches will have a scrumptious kick all summer long!

Winter in Florida

No reason to complain.

These sandhill cranes are still strolling around, large as life. In this case that's about 3 feet tall.

My geranium is taking advantage of the nice weather to bloom like crazy.

And it is strawberry season!  This morning my favorite dessert of strawberries dipped in sour cream and brown sugar morphed into my favorite breakfast of strawberries, Greek yogurt, and brown sugar.

Around Town

My future home town prides itself on being an old-fashioned Florida small town with a contemporary attitude. Someday soon I'll write a profile that shows off the notable sights.

For now, here's a pseudo-postcard. I'm sorry this market is no longer open. I would love to be able to say, "Here's where I buy my fish."

The downtown farmer's market was bustling bravely on Saturday morning. It tries hard to please, but is still a little heavy on the crafts side of things. My friend Bill laments the fact that Mr. Pickle doesn't come 'round anymore. I am too new in town to understand his feeling of loss, but I am missing the Cheese Man. He hasn't been seen since June, and I am sadly in need of a white wine cheddar fix.

Desiring neither a bamboo flute nor some handcrafted soap, I settled for fresh French bread, tomatoes, chocolate chip cookies, and rainbow carrots. The rainbow carrots alone were worth the trip. So pretty!

Tasty, too.

A Dessert Fail (Plus One That Works)

On the way to the poetry reading this week (more about that later, maybe), I had dinner with a friend and colleague, and we spent most of the evening talking about literature. That was nice!

Even though we wanted to arrive early and get a good seat, there was still time for dessert. The menu included something called a Chocolate Cake Shot, and I envisioned one of those square-ish shot glasses filled with chocolate cake. That's logical, right? The description included ingredients of vanilla vodka, Amaretto, and lemon sugar, which sounded like some kind of soaked chocolate cake.

But no. The waiter explained that the item didn't include any chocolate cake whatsoever; it merely tasted like chocolate cake. I was doubly intrigued by the prospect of chocolate cake and lemon in pure liquid form, and I had to try it.

Alas, it mostly tasted like vodka, and not like chocolate cake at all. Cute, but disappointing.

Tonight, at home, I ventured into tried and true dessert territory, and gobbled up this very successful dessert before I thought to take a picture. It's as simple as can be: fresh strawberries, sour cream, and brown sugar. Grab a whole strawberry by the leaves, dip it in the sour cream, then dip it in the brown sugar, and take a big bite. That's it. The combination may sound a bit weird, but the result is never disappointing.

A Trip to the Cupcake Store

Where else to conclude a holiday lunch?

The store and the cupcakes were cleverly decorated. Usually the store is a symphony in blue and brown, but they've added some festive red accents and lots of shiny trees. I think it works, don't you?

I was particularly enamoured of this swag effect, as you can tell.

Two for the road!

Homegrown

Fresh from the garden.

Oooh, don't eat this. It tastes like . . . horseradish? I know I ordered the "spicy" mixed lettuce packet, but holy moly, I couldn't spit this out fast enough. Yuck! Thank goodness I tested it before I mixed it into the plated greens.

Add a few walnut pieces, some feta, some green onions, a sprinkling of raisins and dried cranberries, plus balsamic dressing. Fresh, fresh, fresh.

No Reese's in the House?

Do it yourself! Not pretty, but very effective.

(P.S. I found the close-up function on my new camera. Yay!)

Signs of Spring

Oak tree pollen all over the front of the car.

Porch-related impulse buys in the back.

Strawberry shortcake with homemade biscuits.

Azaleas!

Not Your Usual Book Review

Last week I was out of town on business, but as soon as I had some time to myself, I went here.

(photo credit)

They had new and used books in a grand array, though they were a little light on the particular books I was looking for. Never one to leave a bookstore empty-handed, I bought this.

It's a real cookbook, but charming enough that I read it all the way through like a novel. Every recipe has a little story with it, or a comment such as this one that accompanies Baked Peanut Ham with Sherry: "I carve it inelegantly in quarter-inch thick slices, as I have found folk grateful for such a quantity." Or this one about Cheese Grits: "As a breakfast dish, with scrambled eggs, bacon and crisp biscuits, I know no greater feast." I don't think I've ever read a cookbook with a stronger or more pleasant author's voice. It's like having a wise grandmother show you around her kitchen.

Nonetheless, this is something of a pioneer-days Florida cookbook. I will try some of the recipes, but I will definitely skip those involving gopher turtle and bear.

Then I stayed here. Yep, a bedroom and a sitting room, all to myself, with a riot of cardinals singing in the trees outside to welcome the sunrise. Perfect!

(photo credit)

Hot Meal on a Cold Night

Nothing better than chili when it's chilly. I was tempted to try a new recipe this time, but reverted to the old standby. For variety I used half ground beef and half ground pork, 3 different kinds of beans, and beer instead of water when it came time to add extra liquid (hence the foam).

This is my favorite stage: I love seeing the different layers of ingredients, before everything is mixed together.

In my world, you can't have too much cumin.

Too bad C.S. doesn't like beans in his chili (yet another example of how our culinary tastes diverge wildly and widely). I don't understand that at all. Without the beans, isn't it just hamburger soup?

Despite my lack of comprehension, I have promised to make him a non-bean version next time he visits.

Whenever my mom served chili, my dad used to trot out a lame old pun: "Chili today and hot tamale [tomorrow]," he'd say. It's not a great pun, but hey, it's a family tradition.

A sprinkle of Mexican four-cheese blend, some green onions, and life is good.

Feed a cold, right?

I'm still sniffling and coughing, but my appetite is just fine, thanks. Tonight I made and devoured this entire Greek chicken salad with lemon dressing, all by myself.

Next on the menu: hot toddy and a good night's sleep.

What I Learned in the Crescent City

There really is something about New Orleans. I didn't see it at its best (or its worst, depending on your perspective), as it was unusually cold there, too, this week, and the run-up to Mardi Gras was just getting started. However, I managed to spend three days at a conference and take up two full days with field trips. A highly recommended strategy.

The two presentations I attended only confirmed that I'd done the right thing; the Q&A portions were way more interesting than the presentations, I'm sorry to say. Does every panel participant spend most of the time plugging his or her own accomplishments? Or did I just draw the short straws? If I heard "When I was a Fulbright scholar in China . . ." or "My book, which is coming out next year from Whatever Press, contains a chapter about that . . ." one more time, I just might have screamed.

Out in the city, I learned they really do call you "Baby" and "Sweetie" as a matter of course, just as the truly Southern among us tend to use "Honey" or (in Orlando, where there are many Puerto Ricans) "Mami." I like it.

They also have a shrewd sense of humor. As just one example, when everyone piled into the airport shuttle, we had 8 riders and only 7 tickets. The driver had to call out the person who was obviously hoping to blend in and get a free ride (and these were law professors, for goodness' sake!). After the second time the driver repeated that there were 8 riders but only 7 tickets, one of the riders finally piped up, "Oh, right, I need to pay" and produced his wallet. After he took the guy's money, the driver said with a smile, "Thank you very much, Mr. Cash." Whereupon, 7 of the 8 riders turned their heads to hide a smile. I can only hope the 8th rider was embarrassed.

We went on a walk in the Jean Laffit National Park and learned about the unique ecosystems of Louisiana and how the wetlands that used to surround the city could have largely protected against the hurricane surge that initiated the Katrina disaster. It was too cold and gloomy for gators to be out and about, but we saw a very sluggish snake, various wading birds, a marsh hawk, and a couple of vultures.

(photo from the National Park Service)

Followed by gumbo, shrimp etouffe, and gator sausage at the Bayou Barn. Unfortunately, there was no Cajun dancing while we were there.

(photo from bayoubarn.com)

During the afternoon we toured the Ninth Ward, which remains a tenacious, badly damaged neighborhood alternating modest homes (in various states of repair), boarded-up, clearly abandoned homes, and vacant lots where only the foundations, or sometimes only the front steps, remain. I'm used to hurricane devastation, but in my personal experience that's meant no electricity for a few weeks, blue tarps on roofs, and lots of tree debris. This is far broader than that. And of course the levees loom over it all.

In a cold, drizzly rain, we walked through a few green building projects there, most notably the houses constructed by Brad Pitt's foundation, Make It Right. Mr. Pitt was not on hand to speak to us, but this gentleman came onto the bus and told us about his experiences since the flooding. I was so impressed with his positive attitude, after the horror of what he has been through. It really came home to me when he said, "When you go through that light way down there, that's where my house floated to."

The next day we were the guests of the Army Corps of Engineers and received a boat tour of the Inner Harbor Navigation Canal Surge Barrier construction project. Nothing like a boat tour in 20-degree weather to separate the men from the boys! I'm one of the men, mostly, in case you're wondering. Every time I retreated to the inside cabin, where there was some semblance of heat and no wind chill, they would start talking about the project on deck and curiosity would draw me back out again.

I was so impressed with the members of the Corps who guided us. They rode on the bus with us, so we had plenty of time to ask questions. And they are so dedicated. One actually got a little choked up when he talked about how the Corps recognizes that it gets blamed for the Katrina flooding and how thoroughly they understand their failures, with an earnest sense of personal responsibility. Many factors went into those circumstances, and they are determined to overcome the mistakes of the past.

Last but not least, I learned that it is possible to conduct a gumbo taste-off and be practically unable to choose a winner. We had a lovely Creole dinner at Olivier's, where who makes the best gumbo is a long-standing family feud. The sampler includes a roux-based Creole gumbo, a file gumbo, and an okra gumbo. It was incredibly difficult to choose the best one: my favorite was whichever one I'd tasted most recently! I don't even like okra, but the gumbo version was delicious. I finally settled on the file as my favorite; it's not the most popular choice, but there was something about it. We had a fabulously dramatic waiter who took great care of us, pecan-crusted fried oysters (another food I usually don't like), peach cobbler to die for, and a delightful finish to a wonderful trip. In the French Quarter, you don't have to eat at a t.v.-chef's restaurant to have a fabulous meal.

(image from olivierscreole.com)

As if that wasn't enough, I also learned that you can get good red beans and rice with a side of sausage at the airport, just in case you decide to travel on a full stomach. No word on whether that sausage was gator, though. At that point, I'd already been so adventurous in my travel eating, my policy was Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

Nostalgia Baking

I made my favorite childhood cookies this Christmas, even though I didn't have any children around to help decorate them. I just love these cookies, and my daughters loved making them, too, when they were little.

The recipe comes from this cookbook, which was a gift to me on my 5th birthday. If you look closely, you can see the mustache one of my cousins drew on the brunette. Helpful, huh? (Is that supposed to be the mom, or just an older sister? She looks so young!).

Here's the photo that sold me on the cookies as a 5-year-old.

After you cut the cookies out and put them on the baking sheet, you paint them with paint made from egg yolks and food coloring. They are at their prettiest before they are baked (hence the photo only shows them before baking).

When they bake, they rise, and they aren't quite as attractive afterwards. They are still pretty, though. They are also a great excuse to collect cookie cutters in lots of interesting shapes.

The blob in the upper right is supposed be a dove. And what does a fish have to do with Christmas? Nothing, but he sure was fun to paint!

They also look quite festive, all in a pile. They have an unusual honey taste, which I like but hasn't been a big hit with anyone else, as far as I know. More fun to make than they are to eat, to paraphrase an old saying.

If you have children or grandchildren, these are your ticket to holiday fun. Trust me.

Paintbrush Cookies

Mix thoroughly: 1/3 cup softened butter, 1/3 cup sugar, 1 egg, 2/3 cup honey, and 1 teaspoon vanilla.

Stir in: 2 & 3/4 cups sifted all-purpose flour, 1 teaspoon baking soda, and 1 teaspoon salt.

Chill thoroughly.

Heat oven to 375 degrees.

Roll half of dough out on a floured pastry cloth, using a floured, covered rolling pin. Roll to 1/4-inch thickness. Cut into shapes and put onto a greased (or parchment-covered) baking sheet. Repeat with other half of dough, working quickly so it stays cold or it will get very sticky.

Paint designs with egg yolk paint (for each color: 1 egg yolk, 1/4 teaspoon water, and food coloring as desired).

Bake 8 to 10 minutes. For clear colors, do not let cookies brown.

A Minor Tragedy

In the shopping rush last week, I picked up a few things for myself. Does everyone do this, or is it just me? Usually my impulse control is pretty reliable, but in December, once I open my wallet, watch out!

(I should probably qualify this "splurge" by saying it cost a total of $25.00, including shipping.)

I am addicted to this particular substance. It turns hot dogs and sub sandwiches into food fit for a queen.

(photo from mybrandsinc.com)

But I haven't been able to find it in the stores here. The one local sub shop that carries its equivalent makes an otherwise unremarkable sub, one that's hardly worth eating just for a fix. So in the throes of selfish impulse buying, I tracked it down on-line and ordered the minimum (4 jars).

My splurge arrived yesterday.

Uh-oh.

Double uh-oh.

Enough to bring tears to a grown woman's eyes. And not just because of the fumes.

Fortunately, a refund for this casualty is on its way. I will probably just put it back in my wallet, selfish splurge season being over and all.