Food

My sous-chef drizzled the maple sugar on the scones with more skill and style than I’ve ever brought to bear. My return to work weighed heavily on my heart and mind all day.

The blue-grey light returned on Boxing Day, along with snow, sleet, rain, cold. I felt like I was back in central New York. I burned Nag Champa and played 80’s music in our warm kitchen. John fried cold slabs of leftover grits in the cast iron skillet, and I ate two of them with butter and my most favorite-est thing ever, Sriracha.

Pre-dawn whispers (I stuffed my head under a pillow and went back to sleep). Presents opened before the eight o’clock hour. Hot coffee from the Chemex. Sweet, soft challah French toast eaten continental style by a bad piggie. Organic, fresh-pressed juice to cut through the sweet. Beautiful music streaming through the house. ...

For the first time, my girl helped braid the challah, her small fingers gently moving the ropes and curling in ends. We used the knife as a chisel and popped chunks of Callebaut in our mouths while we worked. The challah baked up quick. We left the hot loaf to cool on a wire rack and drove to church, where I sat on the edge of my seat as our pastor hit all the high notes in O Holy Night. Once home I sat in my bent wood chair under my mother’s cable-knit afghan and stared at the lights on the tree.

Finding nourishing food while traveling in a new city is a challenge, but it’s important to me to not eat junk while on the road. I Yelped my way to Prasad for an amazing dinner of lightly steamed kale, cabbage, beans, avocado and quinoa. I sat at a high counter in the front window and enjoyed the bowl with a fresh green lemonade. Two guys passed by the shop, deep in conversation. One then stopped in his tracks, turned around, came inside and ordered a wheatgrass shot at the counter behind me, his skeptical friend watching through the glass.

Alastair and Jacqui were once “the church sound guy and his worship singer wife” to me, little more than strangers. In fact the first real conversation I had with Alastair went something like […] Alastair, standing in front of me, a microphone stand between us: “Sing louder.” Me: “I can’t.” Alastair: *sigh* Slowly we became good friends, and now ten years later, Alastair and Jacqui are as close to my heart as family. They invited us over for dinner this past Saturday evening. The meal Alastair cooked[…]

Sauerkraut experiment #1 is underway. I love the deep purple color of the cabbage juice in the jar. I found postcard art by illustrator Phoebe Wahl tucked into Issue 3 of Taproot Magazine, and it now hangs on our kitchen line, reminding us of the colder weather heading our way. I dusted off the kitchen scale and about a thousand other neglected kitchen tools to make a ri-DI-culously good Coconut Layer Cake for a special birthday.

Been spending time in the kitchen, working on my fermentation chops. Haven’t you heard that fermentation is the new canning? Three half-pint jars of whey came from one container of organic yogurt, and now I am sneaking that stuff into all of my kids’ food. I made a batch of Carolina Slaw from the book Real Food Fermentation and it’s sitting quietly on the countertop, changing from one thing to another. The inside of the glass is thick with condensation after only two days. ...

Sprouted buckwheat groats, chopped tomatoes, sliced cucumber tossed with lime juice, olive oil, salt, pepper, and chopped fresh mint and parsley. Recipe by the Gluten Free Hippie. I have begun sprouting grains and learning about lacto-fermentation, and have quit alcohol, caffeine and sugar (sigh), in a bid to prevent a recurrence of my disease. I’ve lost five pounds and so need to find new things to eat and pronto!

It was slippery outside this morning, too slippery to run. I made maple oatmeal scones instead. We sipped coffee and read about dinosaurs, then I retreated to the home office to begin my day.