Slower paced living

I am so lucky.  Today we are snowed in on our mountain, and everything we needed to do (individually and collectively) has been cancelled:  no school for C, no rehearsal for me, no flight in for M.  I check in with my city friends, and they are all fussing about snow plows and icy roads and closed highways.  The folks at East Mountain Library are Shoveling. The. Parking. Lot.  I don't have to worry about any of it.

That's one of the perks of being a 24/7 caregiver.  I don't have to go anywhere if I don't want to, and the only thing I have to do is keep the house warm and the food cooked.  Granted, it's a little problematic right now in the house, since we only have radiant floor heat.  The wood-burning stove is still an unfinished project, and somehow the solar heat doesn't work when there's no sun.

However, there is the casita next door, complete with full kitchen and wood stove.  So, I shovel the walks (which promptly needs re-shoveling), bundle up my friend, and install her with her book by the stove.

Then, I settle into some solid baking.  I start out with gingersnaps.  I find an Alton Brown recipe online, and recall that S swears by AB.  So, I give it a shot.

All I can say is, AB must be cooking at sea level.

However, messy and gooey as the cookies are (before I add more flour), they are quite tasty.  I approve of the addition of cardamom to the spices.  And, I have to confess that, not having a kitchen scale, I have to use the conversion formulas and cup measurements.  AB is into ounces, not cups.  I don't know why it would matter, but Gluten-Free Girl is also adamant that weight is the way to go, so there's probably some science behind it.  I don't want to blame AB and the altitude too much.

Once I am in the rhythm of cookie baking, I put together the fixings for granola, courtesy of the Tassajara Bread Book.  Since I am going to be using the cookie sheet (we only have one) for the granola, it gets set aside, once mixed.

Then, the lentil stew.  That recipe is in the Moosewood Cookbook.  Simmer rinsed lentils in stock for 4 hours.  Then saute garlic, onion, celery, carrots in butter.  Add to the lentils and simmer for another hour or so.

All I can say is, Moosewood cooks must ALSO have been working at sea level.

The 3 cups of lentils soak up the 7 cups of stock in one hour flat, and I'm adding liquid every half hour after that.  I add the saute mix after 2 hours, and turn the whole darn thing off after another hour.  A half hour before dinner I'll turn it back on and add the tomatoes and wine and spices.

Time to add another log to the fire and re-shovel the walk.  Now what?   Hmm, maybe I should rearrange the spices.  Sheesh, we have 5 containers of cumin.  Cinnamon sticks, whole cardamom and cloves....Ah, mulled wine.

We don't have apple cider to sweeten the pot, but, for future reference, Triple Sec does just fine.

And now the sun has come out, so I may try for a little sunset walk.  Forget practising, it's a snow day!

Haiku for a failed domestic diva

After expending
Much angst and cash, the oven
Still does not work.

My makeshift repair
On the recliner pulley
Is unravelling.

The tree sits, naked,
In the corner. Now for the
Trip to the attic.

Several years ago, we did a minor kitchen remodel. We (or rather, our contractor) ripped out the old ovens in the pantry, installed the wine fridge in its place, and fixed the space below the stove to receive a new oven (replacing the old behemoth microwave I inherited with the house.)  For the duration of oven-less-ness, we purchased a nifty microwave which doubled as a convection oven.   

The week before New Years, the lower coil of the oven stopped functioning.  We (and our handyman guru) assumed the problem was with the coil, as the broiler still worked.  On New Year's Eve day, I started calling around.  No one had the coil, and it was going to cost $118.  Oy.  I looked online and got the super-cheap price of $93 to quote to the locals, and we ordered it for that.  

On Tuesday D went to pick it up, and then the ugly process of replacing it commenced.  Neither of us are in shape to squat on the ground and root around in the bowels of the oven, so we took turns.  Since we had to turn off the electricity, our light came from a headlamp and a flashlight, held unsteadily by the partner as the floor person rooted around at the back of the oven.  The element was held in place by two screws with a squarish hole:  we had to search through the tips on the screwdriver kit for the right size and shape, and we had to figure out how to set the handle to turn the right way.  It's the first time I had seen a reversible screwdriver handle, and I'm still not sure what the point of that is.

What with interruptions (why do people call the instant the breaker box is turned off?) and irritations, we did not find the proper equanimity to finish the job until yesterday.  And, as I set about making bread pudding and D started defrosting the steaks, I proudly started the pre-heat function.

The bread pudding was baked in the tiny convection oven.

Moving the Chi

This was the last Tai Chi Chuh session for the fall term.  We do the entire practice, and then share a potluck.  As steward, I'm responsible for collecting class evaluations, so I had to show up, despite my throat.  Technically this should not have been a problem, as the main symptom now is the laryngitis, and you don't talk during the practice.

However, I was also at a work training session this morning, and the home front was pretty exhausting when I returned home.   The logistics of taking care of daily business were complicated by communication difficulties, and we ended up retreating to our separate corners and licking our wounds.

I did, however, find the energy to make a quiche and an apple crumb pie.  The latter was a peace offering to D (he brought me flowers for his offering, and went out for the apples.)  The quiche was for the potluck, and it was totally made up of leftovers and staples.  The crust was a leftover from the apple/green tomato pie I made 2 weeks ago: L's fabulous recipe makes 4 crusts, and since it takes 1 egg, there's no good way to cut the recipe down.  The filling included pesto cubes from my annual pesto production, artichoke hearts, sun-dried tomatoes, mozzarella cheese, and, of course, the egg custard.  The whole thing was superb, and very pretty, with dots of red and green peeking through the yellow, white and brown top, cooked just right.

Baking is really the easiest way to be creative:  take what you have, substitute what you must, add in an unconventional spice or ingredient, et voila!  Uniqueness happens.

But I was still wiped out, and the drive to the class was disconcerting.  It was dark, the streets were crowded, and the bicyclists were invisible.  When I got to Chapman and Lownsdale Squares, the former Occupy Portland sites showed stark under the brilliant klieg lights.  The ginkgos' graceful golden fan-lined branches were surreal bits of glowing beauty, enclosed in chain link fences, standing amidst the pounded earth and cement.

I wondered what I was doing, going on my usual rounds while the economy crumbles and my own life is a microcosm of the larger disintegration.  But I got to church, plugged the meter, gathered up my quiche and paperwork, and went to class.

And, magically, it was all okay.  We stood sock-footed in the circle, eyes focussed on middle distance, quiet music filling the silence.  From the dark windows, headlights flashed the news that rush hour was still in force, but it was a distant intimation of the city.  Together we created a mountain retreat, arms and legs moving through platter, drum, ball, taffy, gathering in the energy, pushing it away, bringing it back.  I felt the familiar tingling warmth in my fingers, wondered if I would ever develop the "flutter," and then let that thought go:  what matters is the practice, the rest will come if it will.

And now I type while D and R play cards and Marc Cohn sings from Pandora.  Life is good, and there are so many forms the energy can take.  I just have to trust that if I pay attention, I will be supported by all of them.