It's a cool, cloudy morning. I've got a cup of steaming hot tea, three passed out pets, and an empty apartment. In a word: heaven. I sit down at the computer, open up my laptop, and take a satisfying stretch before delving into fantasy land, when I hear the most obnoxious sound...
A leaf blower.
Not only is a leaf blower one of the loudest machines I've ever heard, it's also the most useless. People seem to use these odd contraptions to collect the fall leaves from their lawns (translation: hot air blasts out of smelly machine and blows leaves in every direction). And then? Oh, that's simple, you place your pile of leaves into trash bags and put them at the end of your driveway because then your lawn will be perfect again and the neighbors won't judge you. Plus, it gives you a sense of "I am the ruler of this castle and with my bare hands I shall rid it of all evil (translation: leaves)". Ok, so maybe this is more of a guy reaction because frankly, I don't see why you can't just leave the leaves (no pun intended) on the ground. Perhaps it's more of a "man and his machine" syndrome, otherwise known as the urge to lift heavy objects made of metal, gas, and lava that make absurdly loud noises and do manly things like blow, cut, slice, dig, and screw. It also helps if the machine has a hose, saw, or spiky things shaped like...(let's just say- pickles or the Washington Monument). Extreme weather conditions, a midlife crisis, and alcohol will make these machines even more exciting. Because there's nothing quite like a good snow plowing in the middle of a blizzard or mowing the lawn after a bottle of wine or powerwashing the garage after buying that Harley you always wanted. Upon finishing such herculean tasks, a man may enter the kitchen victorious, smelling of gas, sweat and blood. He may have lost some good men out there, but the mission was clear, and he had to see it through. His expression looks like a combination of "the few, the proud, the marines" and John Wayne. He might as well be wearing chaps and saying something like, "courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway". This is the time when you must notice his battle wounds (translation: miscalculation of branch height on lawnmower due to alcohol consumption = small cut on forehead) with a level of concern bordering hysteria. "It's just a scratch," he replies, his voice a full octave lower than usual. He is a man and men don't feel pain.
Solution? Bring out your tweezers, and pluck one hair out of his back. It's bliss I tell you, pure bliss...
When you're out on your horse, and there's no time to visit the saloon for a whiskey and some meat, what are you supposed to eat? A nutty granola bar of course! These little guys are easy to make and will fill you with energy when your out on the plains looking for the Indians who stole your cousin, and will make old John jealous (he's only got a piece of dried up jerky).
Nutty Granola Bars
1 cup raw almonds (soaked for an hour = pour water over almonds and let sit, then discard water)
1 cup dates, pitted & any variety (soaked for an hour)
1/2 cup roasted, unsweetened peanut butter (I use Santa Cruz Organic creamy peanut butter)
1/2 cup unsweetened, shredded coconut (I use Let's Do Organic unsweetened coconut)
1/2 cup sprouted buckwheat grouts OR finely chopped raw almonds
2 T sesame seeds
1/3 cup ground flax seed meal
2 T raw honey
2 T virgin coconut oil (I use spectrum organic or Dr. Bronner's organic)
1 T vanilla extract
1 T + ground cinnamon
In a food processor, process dates and almonds until crumbly, not pureed.
Transfer to a mixing bowl and add all other ingredients, combine, and press into a glass baking dish or dish or your choice. That's it! Serves ten sleepy unicorns in the wild west.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
thanksgiving / mashed cinnamon ginger sweet potatoes
I find it amusing / scary how quickly the real meaning of this holiday has changed, and let's be honest, how many of us really know the history behind Thanksgiving?
When I think of Thanksgiving, I envision pilgrims with buckle shoes and ridiculous hats gathering around wooden tables with a bunch of natives with headdresses, celebrating their most genuine "friendship" by feasting on a giant dead bird (with cranberry sauce and grandma's pumpkin pie, obviously). However, because I'm highly educated, I know that this is a gross misconception of a holiday that has nothing to do with a dead turkey and everything to do with William Bradford (the badass governor of the 1620 American colony) proclaiming that all his puritan buddies should gather together and thank God for helping them thrive in America...
But let's be honest, this is not interesting at all...
Turkey day (as I like to call it) is a time for families to come together and eat and drink as much as humanly possible, fall into a trytophan-induced coma, then wake up the next day and act like raving lunatics as they shop from 5am onwards to get the best deals on crap they probably don't need.
When I was in fourth grade, we dressed up like pilgrims and sang songs with the "native americans" (fifth graders) about peace and corn and turkeys...then we cut out a giant paper turkey and offered it to the natives (fifth graders), which they happily accepted with "thanks". This was followed by a feast in the auditorium with our teachers and all I kept thinking (between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes) is how much I wanted to be a native (because they had cooler outfits and got to make their own walking sticks). A plump pilgrim nudged me in the ribs and said, "why did the turkey sit on the tomahawk?" I said I didn't know. "To hatchet." A blank stare. "Get it? Hatch-it?" Oh, right, I mumbled. Needless to say, it wasn't until high school that I realized the sweet old puritans weren't so "pure" after all...
"Wait, so they were escaping persecution from King James I and came to America so they could be socialists and practice their own religion?"
Yea, apparently, I said. But then all the indians died from disease and-
"Dude, you can't say indians!?!"
Oh, forgive me. We butchered the Native Americans, then became a capitalist society and thrived. God bless America...
"Jesus."
I know, right? He's caused us more problems...
So, what do I celebrate during Thanksgiving? Being with my family...because there's nothing better. Nothing.
Well, except perhaps mashed ginger cinnamon sweet potatoes! This is a simple recipe that's a perfect addition to your Thanksgiving spread.
Mashed Ginger Cinnamon Sweet Potatoes
2 large sweet potatoes, peeled and chopped
1 large yellow onion, peeled and chopped
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
1/3 cup coconut milk
2 T ginger pulp (= peeled and grated ginger root)
1 cinnamon stick
1 bay leaf
salt and pepper to taste
In a large pot, add potatoes, carrots, bay leaf, cinnamon stick, and onion and fill with enough water to just cover the vegetables. Bring to a boil and cover, then reduce heat and simmer until veggies are tender, about 20 minutes. Strain water out and remove bay leaf, then season with salt and add ginger pulp and coconut milk. Use an immersion blender or food processor to puree until creamy and smooth. Serves 6 unicorns disguised as pilgrims.
When I think of Thanksgiving, I envision pilgrims with buckle shoes and ridiculous hats gathering around wooden tables with a bunch of natives with headdresses, celebrating their most genuine "friendship" by feasting on a giant dead bird (with cranberry sauce and grandma's pumpkin pie, obviously). However, because I'm highly educated, I know that this is a gross misconception of a holiday that has nothing to do with a dead turkey and everything to do with William Bradford (the badass governor of the 1620 American colony) proclaiming that all his puritan buddies should gather together and thank God for helping them thrive in America...
But let's be honest, this is not interesting at all...
Turkey day (as I like to call it) is a time for families to come together and eat and drink as much as humanly possible, fall into a trytophan-induced coma, then wake up the next day and act like raving lunatics as they shop from 5am onwards to get the best deals on crap they probably don't need.
When I was in fourth grade, we dressed up like pilgrims and sang songs with the "native americans" (fifth graders) about peace and corn and turkeys...then we cut out a giant paper turkey and offered it to the natives (fifth graders), which they happily accepted with "thanks". This was followed by a feast in the auditorium with our teachers and all I kept thinking (between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes) is how much I wanted to be a native (because they had cooler outfits and got to make their own walking sticks). A plump pilgrim nudged me in the ribs and said, "why did the turkey sit on the tomahawk?" I said I didn't know. "To hatchet." A blank stare. "Get it? Hatch-it?" Oh, right, I mumbled. Needless to say, it wasn't until high school that I realized the sweet old puritans weren't so "pure" after all...
"Wait, so they were escaping persecution from King James I and came to America so they could be socialists and practice their own religion?"
Yea, apparently, I said. But then all the indians died from disease and-
"Dude, you can't say indians!?!"
Oh, forgive me. We butchered the Native Americans, then became a capitalist society and thrived. God bless America...
"Jesus."
I know, right? He's caused us more problems...
So, what do I celebrate during Thanksgiving? Being with my family...because there's nothing better. Nothing.
Well, except perhaps mashed ginger cinnamon sweet potatoes! This is a simple recipe that's a perfect addition to your Thanksgiving spread.
Mashed Ginger Cinnamon Sweet Potatoes
2 large sweet potatoes, peeled and chopped
1 large yellow onion, peeled and chopped
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
1/3 cup coconut milk
2 T ginger pulp (= peeled and grated ginger root)
1 cinnamon stick
1 bay leaf
salt and pepper to taste
In a large pot, add potatoes, carrots, bay leaf, cinnamon stick, and onion and fill with enough water to just cover the vegetables. Bring to a boil and cover, then reduce heat and simmer until veggies are tender, about 20 minutes. Strain water out and remove bay leaf, then season with salt and add ginger pulp and coconut milk. Use an immersion blender or food processor to puree until creamy and smooth. Serves 6 unicorns disguised as pilgrims.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
no power / asian ginger noodle soup
After ranting on about how hysterical people are about the weather, I'm feeling rather humbled. A Nor'easter in October is all I needed to realize why those nutters (translation: Americans) buy so much bottled water whenever there's a storm prediction. And speaking of no power, it's amazing how different your life suddenly becomes when you don't have it anymore...
Day 1: When it first goes off, it's kind of exciting in that "hey, this is an adventure" kind of way. You grab a flashlight and pull out all of your candles, then tell the unicorns that they're not allowed to open the refrigerator door (or any door for that matter) unless absolutely necessary. "We have to keep it cold," you say with authority, "and we need to keep the house warm". Then you converse about the last time you lost power and make predictions for when it's going to come back on. Ten minutes later, you're already missing it...
It's 4:30pm and dark, there's no internet, no TV, no music, no comforting droll of running machines, and you realize that being a pioneer isn't fun at all. There is only one thing you can really do: read. Reading is fun when you want to read, but not when you have to read. It's like when you're at school and your professor tells you that you have to read fifty pages of a book. You instantly feel like reading anything other than the book assigned (and it doesn't help when the book is Chaucer's Canterybury Tales...let's just say that middle english didn't last for a reason). Luckily, there's an old issue of Us magazine with Brangelina and her brood on the cover...
Another hour passes. Then another. Then it's dinner time. You decide to eat all of the perishable food first (translation: one big-ass salad), but it's so dark out now that you can barely see the knife while cutting vegetables...
Another hour passes, and you think, "is it too early to go to bed?" You look at your phone and it says 8:05, so you reorganize a bookshelf. Then you pile the magazines on your coffee table by date, oldest on the bottom, newest on the top. Then you play a game of checkers with your unicorn friend. And then you give up and go upstairs.
Day 2: You wake up to the sound of a distant generator, and look out your window at your neighbor's house. It's lit up like a christmas tree and you decide that you never really liked them anyway. Outside, it looks like a war zone and a branch is lying over your car. "Great," you mumble as you walk down the stairs. Suddenly, a cold gust of wind blows into your face; you reach the kitchen and find a branch lying through one of the windows. This is about the time when you let out one of those high-pitched crazy person laughs and your unicorn friend looks at you with concern.
Day 3: The house is 50 degrees, the refrigerator smells, and you've developed a cold. The best part of the day is when you win a game of Words with Friends on your iphone.
Day 4: You've finally broken down and have begun reading a book, while dressed in a puffer coat and wearing two pairs of socks. Your hair is in a braid, a dog is in your lap, a candle burns on the table beside you, and you suddenly realize that you really are Laura Ingalls from A Little House on the Prairie.
Day 5: You spend half of the day trying to move a paperclip after reading a short book on telekinesis.
Day 6: Your unicorn friend wakes you up after you fall asleep with a half eaten can of beans in your hand. You mumble something unintelligible and fall back asleep.
Day 7: The most glorious, stupendous, unimaginable feeling of joy washes over you when you hear the noise of a machine. "Ssshhh!" you yell at the unicorn, "Do you hear that?" He perks his ears forward and nods his furry head. Then you see a light on in the kitchen. It's too good to be true. You leap and twirl in the air like a madman and feel positively euphoric as you do the laundry and dishes...
Day 8: internet and cable still don't work and the bliss of having hot water, heat and light is already wearing off. Simple creatures with simple needs? I think not...
Since I've been cold for about a week, I'm craving something warm and comforting. Solution? Asian ginger noodle soup. This is like mom's chicken noodle soup, minus the dead bird. Ginger is anti-fungal and anti-inflammatory, and a great thing to eat when feeling a little under the weather or nauseated. The best part? This takes less than 30 minutes from prep to finish.
Asian Ginger Noodle Soup
4 scallions, chopped
1 package or 2 cups shiitake mushrooms, sliced
1 heaping tablespoon of peeled and grated ginger (I use a microplane grater)
2 cups (1/2 bunch) of collards, stems removed and sliced into thin ribbons
1/4 cup mirin (I use Eden brand)
2 cups stock (or water) + 1 cup water
1 large handful of thin brown rice noodles (I use Annie Chung's)
1 can navy beans (or bean of choice) (I use Eden Organic...no bisphenol-A in lining!)
1 T + shoyu or tamari (naturally brewed soy sauces)
2 tsp. brown rice vinegar
A few shakes of Gomasio as a topping, optional (Gomasio is a delectable combination of sesame seeds and sea salt that is absolutely delicious! I use Eden's garlic gomasio)
In a soup pot, heat oil and add scallions and ginger. Cook a few minutes, then add mushrooms and collards. Deglaze with mirin and allow to bubble for a few minutes, then add stock or water + additional water, cover with a lid, and bring up to a boil. Once boiling, add noodles and cook until soft, about 2 minutes, then reduce heat to low, add beans and allow to simmer, partially covered for a few more minutes. Season with rice vinegar and shoyu, then serve in bowls with gomasio sprinkled on top. Serves 3 unicorns suffering from Vampire Diaries withdrawal...
Day 1: When it first goes off, it's kind of exciting in that "hey, this is an adventure" kind of way. You grab a flashlight and pull out all of your candles, then tell the unicorns that they're not allowed to open the refrigerator door (or any door for that matter) unless absolutely necessary. "We have to keep it cold," you say with authority, "and we need to keep the house warm". Then you converse about the last time you lost power and make predictions for when it's going to come back on. Ten minutes later, you're already missing it...
It's 4:30pm and dark, there's no internet, no TV, no music, no comforting droll of running machines, and you realize that being a pioneer isn't fun at all. There is only one thing you can really do: read. Reading is fun when you want to read, but not when you have to read. It's like when you're at school and your professor tells you that you have to read fifty pages of a book. You instantly feel like reading anything other than the book assigned (and it doesn't help when the book is Chaucer's Canterybury Tales...let's just say that middle english didn't last for a reason). Luckily, there's an old issue of Us magazine with Brangelina and her brood on the cover...
Another hour passes. Then another. Then it's dinner time. You decide to eat all of the perishable food first (translation: one big-ass salad), but it's so dark out now that you can barely see the knife while cutting vegetables...
Another hour passes, and you think, "is it too early to go to bed?" You look at your phone and it says 8:05, so you reorganize a bookshelf. Then you pile the magazines on your coffee table by date, oldest on the bottom, newest on the top. Then you play a game of checkers with your unicorn friend. And then you give up and go upstairs.
Day 2: You wake up to the sound of a distant generator, and look out your window at your neighbor's house. It's lit up like a christmas tree and you decide that you never really liked them anyway. Outside, it looks like a war zone and a branch is lying over your car. "Great," you mumble as you walk down the stairs. Suddenly, a cold gust of wind blows into your face; you reach the kitchen and find a branch lying through one of the windows. This is about the time when you let out one of those high-pitched crazy person laughs and your unicorn friend looks at you with concern.
Day 3: The house is 50 degrees, the refrigerator smells, and you've developed a cold. The best part of the day is when you win a game of Words with Friends on your iphone.
Day 4: You've finally broken down and have begun reading a book, while dressed in a puffer coat and wearing two pairs of socks. Your hair is in a braid, a dog is in your lap, a candle burns on the table beside you, and you suddenly realize that you really are Laura Ingalls from A Little House on the Prairie.
Day 5: You spend half of the day trying to move a paperclip after reading a short book on telekinesis.
Day 6: Your unicorn friend wakes you up after you fall asleep with a half eaten can of beans in your hand. You mumble something unintelligible and fall back asleep.
Day 7: The most glorious, stupendous, unimaginable feeling of joy washes over you when you hear the noise of a machine. "Ssshhh!" you yell at the unicorn, "Do you hear that?" He perks his ears forward and nods his furry head. Then you see a light on in the kitchen. It's too good to be true. You leap and twirl in the air like a madman and feel positively euphoric as you do the laundry and dishes...
Day 8: internet and cable still don't work and the bliss of having hot water, heat and light is already wearing off. Simple creatures with simple needs? I think not...
Since I've been cold for about a week, I'm craving something warm and comforting. Solution? Asian ginger noodle soup. This is like mom's chicken noodle soup, minus the dead bird. Ginger is anti-fungal and anti-inflammatory, and a great thing to eat when feeling a little under the weather or nauseated. The best part? This takes less than 30 minutes from prep to finish.
Asian Ginger Noodle Soup
4 scallions, chopped
1 package or 2 cups shiitake mushrooms, sliced
1 heaping tablespoon of peeled and grated ginger (I use a microplane grater)
2 cups (1/2 bunch) of collards, stems removed and sliced into thin ribbons
1/4 cup mirin (I use Eden brand)
2 cups stock (or water) + 1 cup water
1 large handful of thin brown rice noodles (I use Annie Chung's)
1 can navy beans (or bean of choice) (I use Eden Organic...no bisphenol-A in lining!)
1 T + shoyu or tamari (naturally brewed soy sauces)
2 tsp. brown rice vinegar
A few shakes of Gomasio as a topping, optional (Gomasio is a delectable combination of sesame seeds and sea salt that is absolutely delicious! I use Eden's garlic gomasio)
In a soup pot, heat oil and add scallions and ginger. Cook a few minutes, then add mushrooms and collards. Deglaze with mirin and allow to bubble for a few minutes, then add stock or water + additional water, cover with a lid, and bring up to a boil. Once boiling, add noodles and cook until soft, about 2 minutes, then reduce heat to low, add beans and allow to simmer, partially covered for a few more minutes. Season with rice vinegar and shoyu, then serve in bowls with gomasio sprinkled on top. Serves 3 unicorns suffering from Vampire Diaries withdrawal...
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
halloween
Halloween is a strange holiday. Actually, it isn't even a holiday; it's an excuse to dress like a hooker and eat lots of sugar, all in the name of ??? Yea...weird. The reason I'm hating on halloween is because I had no plans so it's convenient to pull the "I didn't want to participate" line.
Halloween has always been a bit of a crapshoot in our family. When we were little, halloween always seemed to sneak up on us so quickly that we were left with 24 hours to come up with a costume. This usually limited our options to clothing already in our house (translation: mom and dad's clothes & some reject costumes from earlier years). My mom's favorite last minute costume? Gypsy. Going as a gypsy was easy because all we had to do was wear lots of ratty looking clothing and wear too much makeup. But after more than 3 appearances as a gypsy...we had to draw the line. Second place outfit? The infamous black cat. Black outfit (teenager = miniskirt, make-up, heels & the obligatory angst, innocent child = Laura Ashley jumper, mary janes, and furry gloves), a set of black, pointy ears and black eyeliner whiskers on your cheeks. Third place outfit? Witch. I pulled this one a lot, but I never had black robes so I just wore one of my mom's black dresses and put on the crooked pointy hat that was always stuffed in our "dress up" chest. The dress up chest was full of the most fabulously random things: grass skirts, hot pink tutus, a witch's hat, a bizarre unitard with a sewn on squirrel tail (it was for the play Chicken Little. I was a squirrel, which wasn't a character in the play, but after they cast me as a daisy, I asked if I could be a squirrel instead. I only had 1 line so they didn't care if I was a rodent or a flower), a red cape with faux white fur fringe (when needing to be a king naturally), several sparkling crowns (worn by us and regrettably, by our dogs), and a beautiful egyptian head piece that we always wanted to wear but never had the right outfit for. We tried doing the whole "trick-or-treating in your own neighborhood" thing, but the houses were too spread out, so our mom drove us from house to house and needless to say, many of the doors we knocked on either never opened or opened to a very shocked resident (and it wasn't because of our smashing costumes). We eventually started doing trick-or-treating with our friends in more populated areas, which was great. But the funny thing is, you collect all this candy, go home, stuff your face, and feel totally nuts for the rest of the night and wake up the next morning to find your candy stash mysteriously missing...You ask your mom and she looks down at you with that deceitful innocence as she makes you some breakfast and then quickly changes the subject or says something like, "didn't you eat it all?"
No, you say to yourself, I most certainly did not, and I was fully intending to go crazy again tonight and dress up as an egyptian king and sing songs from The Sound of Music at the top of my lungs! (this is about the time you realize why your mother would do such a horrible thing to you)...
Halloween has always been a bit of a crapshoot in our family. When we were little, halloween always seemed to sneak up on us so quickly that we were left with 24 hours to come up with a costume. This usually limited our options to clothing already in our house (translation: mom and dad's clothes & some reject costumes from earlier years). My mom's favorite last minute costume? Gypsy. Going as a gypsy was easy because all we had to do was wear lots of ratty looking clothing and wear too much makeup. But after more than 3 appearances as a gypsy...we had to draw the line. Second place outfit? The infamous black cat. Black outfit (teenager = miniskirt, make-up, heels & the obligatory angst, innocent child = Laura Ashley jumper, mary janes, and furry gloves), a set of black, pointy ears and black eyeliner whiskers on your cheeks. Third place outfit? Witch. I pulled this one a lot, but I never had black robes so I just wore one of my mom's black dresses and put on the crooked pointy hat that was always stuffed in our "dress up" chest. The dress up chest was full of the most fabulously random things: grass skirts, hot pink tutus, a witch's hat, a bizarre unitard with a sewn on squirrel tail (it was for the play Chicken Little. I was a squirrel, which wasn't a character in the play, but after they cast me as a daisy, I asked if I could be a squirrel instead. I only had 1 line so they didn't care if I was a rodent or a flower), a red cape with faux white fur fringe (when needing to be a king naturally), several sparkling crowns (worn by us and regrettably, by our dogs), and a beautiful egyptian head piece that we always wanted to wear but never had the right outfit for. We tried doing the whole "trick-or-treating in your own neighborhood" thing, but the houses were too spread out, so our mom drove us from house to house and needless to say, many of the doors we knocked on either never opened or opened to a very shocked resident (and it wasn't because of our smashing costumes). We eventually started doing trick-or-treating with our friends in more populated areas, which was great. But the funny thing is, you collect all this candy, go home, stuff your face, and feel totally nuts for the rest of the night and wake up the next morning to find your candy stash mysteriously missing...You ask your mom and she looks down at you with that deceitful innocence as she makes you some breakfast and then quickly changes the subject or says something like, "didn't you eat it all?"
No, you say to yourself, I most certainly did not, and I was fully intending to go crazy again tonight and dress up as an egyptian king and sing songs from The Sound of Music at the top of my lungs! (this is about the time you realize why your mother would do such a horrible thing to you)...
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