New Year’s Resolutions

I am a fan of New Year’s resolutions. I didn’t do any for 2021 because of the pandemic. But this year, even with Omicron lurking around every corner, I’m ready to get back on the horse. I usually do three, but this year I have five:

Resolution 1: Cook or bake at least one new thing a month. I am very good at clipping recipes that I want to make, but not so good at actually getting around to making them. I am going to start this one tomorrow, with black-eyed peas and rice for New Year’s Day. I have several other things on the list of potentials:

• Moroccan stew
• Crackers (I think this sounds like fun)
• Tacos (believe it or not, never made ‘em)
• Pot pies (because Blake’s Pot Pies, which I love, have palm oil in them, and I am avoiding palm oil because of Amazon deforestation for palm oil plantations; so, I’ll try making my own)
• Spiced tomato braised fish
• Frittata

I have some rules for this one: The goal is 12 new recipes in the year, with a stretch goal of 25. Months can be skipped (I’m thinking July/August here, where it can be beastly hot and humid) but this is discouraged (remember chicken salad, red beet eggs, deviled eggs and other summer-friendly foods). And new means new: Adding a new ingredient or two to a current recipe doesn’t count.

Resolution 2: Walk to the mailbox every day, weather permitting. Pick up litter on the way there and the way back. This is for days even when I don’t have mail to mail (though I do have mail to mail most days). I have become extremely sedentary in the pandemic. This isn’t much in the way of activity, but it’s a start. Hopefully, as we move beyond winter, I will walk beyond the mailbox.

Resolution 3: Get to know at least seven Shakespeare plays. (This is part of The Shakespeare Project, which will be a separate post in the near future.) Excepting Romeo and Juliet, I couldn’t say I know any Shakespearean play very well. My approach is to use a variety of media (movies, books, musicals, live plays down the road, perhaps) to see a play from several perspectives. I will always try to include a movie pretty traditional, and also a modern one if I can find it.

Current thoughts: A Midsummer Night’s Dream (I have the Michelle Pfeiffer/Kevin Kline movie, plus a book—The Hound in the Left-Hand Corner, by Giles Waterfield); Much Ado About Nothing (I have the Emma Thompson/Kenneth Branagh movie and there must be a book or two); Hamlet (because I found there’s a graphic novel, which I have on order from the library). I figure by the time I get an understanding of those three, I’ll have a good idea of where I want to go next.

Resolution 4: Measure my carbon footprint and take steps to reduce it. I thought the measurement part was difficult until I read Being the Change: Live Well and Spark a Climate Revolution, by Peter Kalmus. He gives a detailed and easy to understand method to calculate emissions in a number of areas. He also reports on the impact of various actions we can take. I like to believe my carbon footprint is pretty small. But who knows? Whatever it is, I know there is room for improvement.

Resolution 5: Back to giving out May Baskets! I have skipped this for the last two years because of the pandemic. But I have a new neighbor, and it really is time for a little more neighborly interaction. I think we know enough about the spread (pretty much through people, not objects) that May Baskets don’t seem so risky. I at least intend to try.

Anyone else out there do resolutions? Share them if you feel like it!

Postdemic

I hesitate to put the cart in front of the horse, but I have become hopeful enough to write about post-pandemic plans. Almost all my friends are vaccinated, and while I’m feeling the big “will it ever be my turn” thing, it clearly will be coming, and every time I turn around, the timeline improves. A good trend.

Because I am a list-maker, I started a list of things I wanted to do postdemic fairly early. The first thing I put on the list was go to Electric Fetus with Nancy to try on hats, and if we find hats we like, actually buy them (my treat). I love hats and always have, but never wear them (except winter, of course) because they aren’t in style. But I’ve decided I don’t care, and if I find a hat I like I’m going to get it and wear it (except in the winter, as I have plenty of winter hats). Where did this come from? Last December we two went to the Fetus for candles and incense, and got distracted by hats, and had a grand time trying them on. A very nice selection of hats for a store that’s mostly about music.

Over the course of (outdoors socially distanced) games this summer, I learned a friend had never tried latkes. So that’s another plan—Cecil’s Deli for latkes (the best in the Twin Cities that I’ve found so far, and good pastrami sandwiches to boot).

I have several things I want to do with my niece, some planned prior to the pandemic: Meet for pizza near her place of work; bring a ton of flowers to her house where she can teach me flower arranging; and go to the arboretum at St. John’s University.

The Delano drive-in—Peppermint Twist—made the list in early summer. We always stop there on the way back from visiting my hometown, but I haven’t visited since the pandemic. They have really good shrimpburgers. Also in the dining realm, I want to go to a brunch with bottomless mimosas.

There are a few things I want to get, mostly cooking related: small fry pan, 8×8 pan (I wrecked the one I had), an oven thermometer with dark enough/big enough numbers that I can actually read it in the oven; also, a pokey thermometer, for meats and such.

I’ve also realized a new patio table and chairs are in order, as I sink in the chair such that the table is at neck level, and the table itself is a chipping wobbly mess. I’m trying to think of a use for the round glass top. Any ideas?

Unrelated to anything, I also want to get Merrill tennis shoes. Not for tennis. I had never heard of this brand, but three good friends in the last year bought these shoes and love them. I have to at least check them out, because I am always looking for a comfortable shoe and I need new tennies.

I am looking forward to board games and games days and cribbage. To birding when we can stand together instead of 6 feet apart and trying to point to whatever are you looking at?

A completely new thing for me postdemic is that I want to get tickets to a Lynx game, because I’ve developed a huge interest in the Minnesota professional women’s basketball team during the pandemic. I’m not a sports person, and pre-pandemic, I always tossed the sports section of the newspaper (yes, I still read the hard copy) aside. But during the pandemic, something on the front page caught my eye. And after all, what DO sports pages write about when all of a sudden there are no sports happening?

An article about the balance of power between owners and players. The ratio of white coaches to black athletes. The rights and safety of college athletes in the pandemic. All of a sudden, I found the sports pages interesting.

One of the things that interested me most was the Lynx. I was first attracted to them because of all the work they’ve done for social justice. But as I kept reading, I started liking them as a basketball team. I like the way they work together and respect each other. To me, it is a dream team, and I can’t wait to see them play. I may even get some sort of ticket package. But, first game first.

Most of all, I’m looking forward to being with my friends. I’m not a touchy-feely person in general, but people are not meant to be so isolated. Hugs all around.

Books That Held Me During the Pandemic

A lot of my reading friends are having trouble focusing on books these days. One quit reading books altogether and has been reading magazines instead. Another is rereading old favorites—total distractions, like the Harry Potter books. Others are reading less, or reading lighter.

My reading patterns have changed too, though books have remained a staple of my daily diet. I’m reading a lot more poetry, more mysteries and thrillers, and almost no long depressing novels (generally not a favorite, even when we’re not in a pandemic). Books with short chapters are especially appealing when my attention span is also short.

Here are some of the best books I’ve read in the last 10 months:

Cozy, by Isabel Gillies. This is my #1 pandemic read. What could be better in a pandemic than immersing yourself in cozy? Gillies takes us on a tour of things she finds cozy. Pencils and postcards, hot drinks, English pubs. An entire book devoted to cozy. You won’t agree with everything Gillies finds cozy, and that’s not the point. Cozy is the point, and this book gets you thinking cozy. Candles, reading nooks, a couch, a quilt, a book. Reading this book is like eating comfort food.

The Newish Jewish Cookbook, by Marcy Goldman. Looking through cookbooks is a cozy pastime to me, and ethnic cookbooks seem to be especially cozy. I like to learn about different cultures through books, and cookbooks can be a great element of that. Every time I get a new cookbook, I go through it page by page, look at every recipe, and make a list of all the ones I want to try. I write these down on a big Post-it and stick it in the back of the book. Usually, I do this in one sitting, but this book took several sittings. It’s not that it’s so long (224 pages), it’s that there were that many recipes that appealed to me—I filled two large Post-its (a very good sign!). Latkes and kugel (lots of kugels), knishes, kreplach, challah, and even Montreal bagels—so many delightful dishes to make. Next, I’m looking forward to perusing (and “indexing”) In Bibi’s Kitchen, by Hawa Hassan and Julia Turshen, which has recipes and stories from eight African countries that border the Indian Ocean.

The 7½ Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle, by Stuart Turton. This is a book unlike any mystery I have ever read, and it totally sucked me in. Evelyn Hardcastle is going to die. And every day until Aiden Bishop, the protagonist, can identify her killer, she will die again. And every time the new day starts, Aiden wakes up in a different host (alternating among various guests and members of the household). Harper’s Bazaar called it a mix of Agatha Christie, Downtown Abbey, Quantum Leap, and a bit of Groundhog Day. At 458 pages, it should entertain you for several days.

Tell Me Your Names and I Will Testify, by Carolyn Holbrook. I’m a little more than halfway through this book of essays by local author Carolyn Holbrook, and while I try not to recommend books until I’ve finished them, I’ll go out on a limb here. I have loved every essay I’ve read. It’s memoir as much as essay, and memoir seems to be another particularly good vehicle for me in the pandemic. We learn about Holbrook’s challenging life as a single mother (“challenging” being a serious understatement here), and how she still managed to graduate college and now teaches at Hamline University. The writing is intimate, and sometimes I feel like she’s opening the door and letting us see into her very soul. I like it especially for the local aspect—it literally brings the message home to me. I can’t say “That doesn’t happen here.” Because it did.

The Ninja Daughter, by Tori Eldridge. This is a fun escapist read, though I wouldn’t call it light, since a ninja is involved. Lily Wong is a Chinese-Norwegian-American living in LA. She has a secret (from her family) life as a ninja, helping women get out of desperate domestic violence situations. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I was into the book until I was about to the halfway point, but once it started to roll, I was hooked. I didn’t even wait until the next day to order the sequel, The Ninja’s Blade, which I’m one-third through. I sure hope she writes a third one in the series. To add a bit of authenticity, the author is a Hawaiian-Chinese-Norwegian and a modern day ninja.

Land of Shadows, by Rachel Howzell Hall. This is the first in a series of four mysteries. This series is also set in Los Angeles (a fact I hadn’t noticed before writing this, which is a little odd, since I read them back-to-back). The protagonist here is Elouise (Lou) Norton, a female black homicide detective, paired with a somewhat naïve white male cop who just arrived in LA from Colorado Springs. In this first book, they are investigating a death that seems to be related to Lou’s sister’s disappearance 25 years earlier. I am waiting for the sequel, Skies of Ash, to arrive.

Night Flying Woman, by Ignatia Broker. I bought this book 30 years ago. I started it back then, but I set it down. It just didn’t appeal to me. Thirty years later, I wonder—what was wrong with me back then? This is the story of Ignatia Broker’s great-great grandmother, Ni-bo-wi-se-gwe, Night Flying Woman. Night Flying Woman is the dreamer. The dreamer has special dreams, that give signs of the future. Set during the 19^th century, when various tribes were moved to reservations (in this case, White Earth Reservation), it’s a marvelous story of ingenuity, tradition, patience, adaptation, and endurance.

There are always more books, but this post is already long, and now I must go work on finishing all the books I currently have in progress. I like to start the new year with a clean slate.

Happy reading!

Culling Cookbooks

Cookbook culling can be challenging. You have to be in the right mood of course, and it helps if you have a lot of time. The one thing the pandemic has given me is plenty of time, so when the mood to cull struck, I dove right in.

It started with the church basement ladies cookbooks. I needed a bit more room on the bookshelf, and I wanted it right away. In these situations, one picks the low-hanging fruit. I have a lot of church basement ladies cookbooks. Some I got from my mom, a couple were gifts, some I got at garage sales and such, plus I think they multiply on their own. I easily found seven to part with (one of my mom’s I kept because she had written a lot of comments in it, and it makes me smile), and I had the space I needed. Mission accomplished.

Oh, but it felt so good. What about all those apple cookbooks? Do I really need four apple cookbooks when I have a favorite I use all the time? (I decided not—the one will do me fine.) At this point, I decided to be methodical, going left to right on semi-organized shelves.

Start with easy: My Moosewood cookbooks and similar ilk. As expected, I kept most of these, although I did get rid of one Moosewood book about fancy vegetable sides, and another (non-Moosewood) book that was beautiful but contained recipes that I was pretty sure I’d never make.

Then came grains, which are such basic building blocks, I kept four of my cookbooks. Beans, my favorite building block, fared even better—I kept all seven. Beans—there are so many things you can do with beans!

Two of three soup cookbooks got culled, because I realize I almost never get soup recipes from soup cookbooks. I get them from all my other cookbooks. But it seemed prudent to retain one soup book.

I surprised myself on the potato cookbooks—I was sure I would keep the fat one with a lot of recipes and eschew the much thinner book with perhaps a tenth of the recipes. Wrong. The short book had far fewer recipes, but it had several I wanted to make. The bigger book—not even one!

If it sounds to you like I went through each book page by page, indeed I did, with the intent of “indexing” them. This is something I do with most of my new (to me, though they are more often used than new) cookbooks—I go through and make note of all the recipes I want to make, and I put them on a big (or smaller, depending) sticky inside the back cover. This is a great short cut. It isn’t foolproof, because preferences change over time, but it’s also fun to do—nice bonus.

In the course of culling my cookbooks, I’ve found several unindexed books. They go in a separate section on the bookshelf. This is also part of the culling process, but the mood to index a book is different from that to cull, so it goes in a stack and the culling goes on. Later in the evening, I will index a book or two.

Here’s a book I’m looking forward to indexing: The Victory Garden Cookbook. I have several vegetable cookbooks (just getting to these) and can you imagine a better time of year to be looking at vegetable cookbooks?

There is so much fun in this project: I’m making space on my bookshelf, reducing clutter, passing along some really good cookbooks to others and maybe getting some store credit at one of our local used bookstores into the bargain. (Independent bookstores offer much better prices than Half Price Books, and cookbooks are often in demand. I always take my cookbooks to local indies.)

I’m also getting excited about cooking again. I generally don’t like cooking in the summer because I’m a heat wimp, and each summer, I fear I’ll never want to cook again. But already I am longing to cook. The other day my neighbor said her green beans are coming in, would we like some? It took me a few minutes, but I found the recipe for minestrone casserole (think thick minestrone soup) done in a slow cooker.

Green beans? Yes, please!

When a Cooking Fail Is Also a Success

Yesterday, I made red lentil and barley pilaf, a recipe I ran across in the newspaper. I love both lentils and barley, and I had all the ingredients excepting one in the house. The missing ingredient: za’atar.

Here is my story. See if you can spot the places where I messed up.

Lacking za’atar, I made my own blend (see the end for za’atar recipe and notes). This was fun. I like making my own blends (also Italian mix and garam masala)—it’s usually easy, and it puts me better in touch with the food.

Once I had all the ingredients ready, I started with the barley. I love barley (though I haven’t cooked it in years). It has a wonderful texture—a grain of substance. Checking my cookbooks (I often crosscheck recipes) I find that the 45-55 minutes recommended in my recipe is quite conservative for barley. My grains book says 45 minutes to 1¾ hours! Well, good thing I’m making the lentils after the barley. I like to focus on one thing at a time.

The barley is nearing done (after extending the cook time quite beyond 55 minutes) and I decide now is the time to get a leg up on the lentils. I pour the oil in the pan (sunflower oil, which surprised me), measure out the vegetable stock, do a few more things and then get ready to mince the onions and—the barley? Oh crap! I grab the barley off the stove, but of course the pot is hot and the barley continues to cook. Must get barley out. I get out my little colander. Way too small. I grope for the big one (the big metal one that belonged to my grandparents), put it in the sink and pour in the barley. I leave it there.*

*I leave it there because when I pulled out the large metal colander, my pottery batter bowl was inside. As I edged the colander out, the batter bowl fell to the floor and broke in two. This is a bowl I use for everything (except batter)—cooking, baking, and herb work. It was a gift from my sister-in-law; we had a no-new-gifts rule, and it was a bowl she had no use for, and a bowl I treasured from the day I got it. Sigh.

After a little tantrum and a few tears (and an email to a potter), I started the lentils. Possibly I shouldn’t have cooked, but I had grated the ginger and minced the garlic and onions, and everything was there and measured and waiting. And I had made the za’atar. Even the part of myself that said I shouldn’t cook when I was so upset acknowledged that leaving this uncooked was not really an option. Also, I was curious (and invested) in the recipe, and I love barley and lentils.

So, I heat the oil (and throw in a few minced onions to let me know when it’s good and hot). I add the onions, ginger, and garlic and stir, and I have to stir continuously because they stick to the pan after a nanosecond. I scape and stir for the required two minutes, then add the spices (I did an extra bit of scrape and stir here, cooking the spices) before adding the stock (which I added just a bit of, at first, to deglaze the pan like you do when braising—I wanted to get all those good stuck bits up off the bottom; they add good flavor). Then I added all the stock and the lentils, stirred, and brought to a boil. Boil, stir, turn down to a simmer. Timer on.

Oh, the barley. Put the barley back in its pot, awaiting the lentils.

Oh my. This kitchen smells divine. I can’t believe I’m making this wonderful scent waft. My spouse comes into the kitchen, twice, purely to comment (effusively) about how good it smells. I am in seventh heaven.

The timer goes off on the lentils—they’re looking mind of mushy and done, but I try one of course (more than one, actually, they’re small). Oh no—not done! Add 10 more minutes (and more stock, as it’s getting thick and sticking on the bottom).

Did I mention the kitchen smells divine? I’m practically passing out that I’ve created such a wonderful aroma. (Well, the credit must go to the herbs, of course, but I turned up the heat.)

So the timer goes off, the lentils look appropriately mushy, and I add them to the barley. All that’s left to do is heat it up (because the barley has quite cooled). And I stir it all together and the consistency seems to be really good after all (I was afraid it would be too dry). All it has to do is heat through. I taste it.

The lentils aren’t done. Well crap! I can hardly extract the lentils and cook them more at this point. I add stock to the barley-lentil mix and cook for 15 minutes. This makes the barley a little mushy, but still chewy (I believe barley is one of our most forgiving grains) but the lentils still not quite done (many are done, but the crunchy few stand out). It’s a bit of a torture: It tastes really good, but it’s overcooked and undercooked.

The success of course is the spice blend (also please note a hefty teaspoon of cumin went into the lentils along with a good pinch of red pepper flakes, in addition to the za’atar). More information about my za’atar journey below.

 

Finding Za’atar

I am pretty sure I can get za’atar at the co-op, but that’s not happening for several days. So I scoured the internet for za’atar substitutes (I’m a fan of making my own mixes) and the range was huge! My big miss for homemade za’atar was sumac. Looking for sumac substitutes, I came up with lemon pepper, and lemon peel. I also found two wildly divergent za’atar recipes with the same ingredients, and this is what I came up with, somewhere in the middle (makes a little more than half a cup):

• 3 T thyme
• 1 tsp oregano
• 1 tsp marjoram
• 2 T toasted sesame seeds*
• 1 T lemon pepper (scant)
• 1 T lemon zest**

*I found a container of toasted sesame seeds at the grocery store and was happy to take this shortcut!

**Don’t add this until just before using if it’s fresh, and then only scaled to the amount you need for the recipe.

Excepting the lemon zest (unless it’s dried), grind the spices in a mortar and pestle (or a spice grinder)—enough to break up some of the sesame seeds and keep plenty whole. Then add the lemon zest. The amount to add is a little iffy and up to you. I added about a teaspoon and it was good.

Confession: When I made it, I was sure it wouldn’t work. I thought it smelled like dill. But I said to myself, you made it, at least try it. So glad I did.

Happy cooking!

Cookies for Breakfast?

When I ran across a super simple recipe for oatmeal breakfast cookies, I had to try it out. Here’s how simple:

Ingredients

• 3 large ripe bananas, mashed (see note below)
• 1¾ cup quick oats
• ¼ cup chocolate chips
• ¼ cup applesauce

Steps

• Add the quick oats to the bananas and mix well. Then fold in the chocolate chips, then the applesauce.
• Tablespoon-size cookies can be rolled into a ball or flattened before baking.

Bake at 350 for 15-20 minutes, until lightly browned on top.

Note: When bananas get a bit too ripe on my counter, I toss them in the fridge right in their skins. They freeze marvelously. When you want to make banana bread or breakfast cookies, bring out the bananas an hour or two ahead of time and put them in a large bowl to thaw. Easy peasy. They squirt right out of the peel.

I didn’t have 3 large bananas, so I used 3 small and 1 medium banana. And a quarter cup of chocolate chips didn’t seem like nearly enough, so I added a hefty half cup.

The cookies were absolutely delicious out of the oven. Lots of chocolate chips (I used Ghirardelli 60% Cacao) and plenty moist. Yummy and very filling. Hearty, one might say.

This morning, however, the story was a mite different. They were almost soggy, and with my morning tea—way too many chocolate chips. And I think a pinch of salt might be needed.

I am not giving up on this. I’ve already added bananas to the shopping list. This is an idea with serious legs. Next time I will NOT use four bananas. And I think I might try blueberries instead of chocolate chips. And maybe some walnuts.

Suggestions for additional variations are more than welcome!

Pork Chops Delicious

My first new recipe of the year (see resolution to cook at least one new thing every month) is for baked (though I might call them braised) pork chops.

I found this recipe in my mom’s recipe box, clipped from an unknown newspaper. It intrigued me, and it was one of the few meat recipes in the box that didn’t require a can of condensed soup.

Here’s the recipe:

Ingredients

• 8 pork chops
• 2 cups soy sauce
• 1 cup water
• ¼ tsp. pepper
• 1/3 cup brown sugar
• 1 Tbsp molasses
• 1 medium onion, diced
• 1 clove garlic, minced

I didn’t want to make 8 pork chops as I only had 2. But quartering the rest of the recipe was tedious, so I just halved it. I do not regret this decision. (Also, I used an entire clove of garlic, and not a small one.)

Steps

Mix all the ingredients excepting the pork chops in a sauce pan, heat and simmer for two minutes. Let cool.

Pour the cooled mixture over the chops, turning the chops around in the marinade so they are thoroughly drenched. Make sure a lot of the onion and garlic pieces are on top of the meat. Marinade, covered, for at least 2 hours in the fridge, or you can also marinade overnight. (I just put the chops right in the pan I plan to bake them in—less to clean up. Mine had a lid. You can also use foil.)

Using a shallow baking pan, bake the chops (with the marinade, again with lots of the good bits on top) tightly covered, at 375 degrees for one hour.

After an hour, remove the cover and bake for another ½ hour or so, when the sauce is reduced and the chops are done.

This was excellent. It would have been even better had I adjusted the cooking time to reflect 2 pork chops rather than 8 (I believe half an hour could be shaved off), but it’s a very good starting point.

Thanks Mom!

Resolutions for 2020

I usually do three resolutions for the New Year, and I’m pretty good at keeping them. Most years, it seems they just come to me, but this year, I’ve struggled a little bit. Does that mean I shouldn’t do them? Well, no. Let it simmer a little bit.

And one day a week or two ago it occurred to me there are so many new things—foods—I want to make in the kitchen, and yet I keep making the same old same old. Why not a resolution to make at least one new thing a month? Ever since I happened upon the idea, it keeps growing on me. There are so many things I want to make! I bought a Somali-American cookbook a few months ago, and that in itself could provide the requisite 12 dishes. But I also have a book of Mediterranean recipes for the slow cooker, and that would also provide 12 candidates. And then I found two in my mom’s recipe box that I want to try: macaroni and cheese (which I’ve never made except from a box), and marinated pork chops.

There are also some very common things I want to make that I never have: scalloped potatoes, buttermilk biscuits, quiche. Also some less common things: falafel, samosas, sticky chicken.

As I got to thinking about this resolution, I thought 12 isn’t nearly enough, I should do at least 24, or maybe 1 a week—that isn’t really so much. Perhaps not. But it wouldn’t be fun; it would be something hanging over my head all the time. One a month I think I can do, even in the brutal months of July and August with temperatures and humidity in the 90s. I have a secret goal of 25, but I will be quite happy with one new dish every month.

The second resolution is financial, which is boring to everyone so I’ll glide over it, just to say cutting back on both groceries and eating out by 20%. We’ve gotten a bit frivolous on both counts.

The third resolution I struggled with the longest. I had ideas for this or that, but they were all so me-focused. I wanted something more community, something outwardly positive. And then today it occurred to me: Do a kind thing every day. I love this idea. I know that I’ll invariably fail, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ll try. And as I keep trying, I’ll get better at it and notice more opportunities to be kind.

They don’t have to be big things: waiting an extra second to hold the door for someone with a bag; complimenting someone on something (I think this only works if you mean it); clipping a coupon for a friend; giving up your seat on the bus; sending a birthday card; washing out a bowl that someone left behind.

Of course there are bigger acts, like shoveling your neighbor’s walk, helping someone stuck in the snow, paying the tab for the next table in a restaurant, or buying movie tickets for the people behind you in line. I hope to do some of those, too. But for the most part, I’m focused on the small, everyday acts of kindness. The more the better.

I’m quite excited by the 2020 resolutions. A nice mix. I like the creativity and learning involved in the cooking resolution; the discipline and numbers involved in the budgeting resolution; and the challenge, rewards, and potential long-term impact of the kindness resolution.

Any other resolution makers out there?

Fall Cooking Experiments

Fall has arrived, and already I am in cooking mode. I’ve been exceptionally interested in the humble bean lately—kidney, pinto, garbanzo, and refried, along with lentils, black-eyed peas, and all manner of beans and legumes I’ve yet to discover. I’ve also found myself drawn to warming spices—cinnamon, cumin, turmeric, ginger, curry, cloves, coriander, cayenne, chili powder.

Since beans are so hearty, I often forgo meat with my bean meals. I think this is a good thing both for my health and the planet. I’m getting more and more concerned about climate change, and cutting down on meat (especially beef) is definitely a positive step. I’ve found using beans to be a really good way to not miss meat.

My first experiment was minestrone casserole in the slow cooker. This is exactly like what it sounds. Minestrone soup, except it’s thick with pasta, chickpeas, green beans, onions, and carrots, and instead of a ladle, you dish it out with a spoon. It was delicious. The singular mess-up: The recipe said add the green beans (fresh from my neighbor’s garden!) and pasta at the same time. Big mistake. The pasta was done long before the green beans. It worked out okay in reheating, but the initial version had very crunchy beans and pasta as cooked as I dared let it go. I will absolutely make this again, adjusting for the green beans. (Recipe from: The Mediterranean Slow Cooker Cookbook)

My second experiment was Black-Eyed Peas & Rice One-Pot, and doesn’t that sound easy? Doesn’t it make you think when you’re done, you’ll have one pot to clean up, plus maybe a cutting board, a knife, and a couple of utensils? Well, no. At the end of cooking, I knew if I was the picture-taking kind of person, I’d take a picture of my sink full of dishes from my one-pot meal (and that did not include the one pot, which was on the stove). Uh huh. Let that sink in.

That said, it was delicious; a bit time consuming (for those of us not as dexterous with the knife as we might wish) but not difficult. The one-pot refers to the pot where you bring the black-eyed peas to a boil, turn off the heat, and leave them sit for up to three hours. At that point, in a separate pan, you sauté onions for five minutes, then add carrots and green peppers (I substituted celery because I hate green peppers, and they worked perfectly) for three more. Then add minced ginger, garlic, and spices (cumin, turmeric, cayenne, curry powder). Cook for a minute. Add the contents to the one-pot. Add water to the sauté pan to deglaze (one cup)—bring to a boil, and add to one-pot. Then add rice and crushed tomatoes (the recipe calls for diced, but I prefer crushed; both the recipe and I concur that fire-roasted are best).

The mess-up: the black-eyed peas took much longer to cook than they should have. I figured out pretty quickly that I should have put a lid on the black-eyed peas as they were soaking. The recipe didn’t say one way or the other, so I opted for no lid. Mistake. Next time, bring the beans to a boil and let them sit, covered, for up to three hours.

But the rice (basic brown long grain) was very forgiving, and the meal was delicious. Here’s something interesting: This is one of those recipes where you don’t add salt until the very end. All the rest of the spices are in there at the beginning. Salt and pepper are last. At the end, I added plenty of pepper, but no salt was needed. So rare, not to add salt to a dish. (Perhaps the acidity of the tomatoes added that sparky edge of salt?)

Two experiments, two successes with minor mess-ups. I think this is shaping up to be an excellent autumn.

In Praise of Winter Hibernation

On of my favorite things to do on a snowy day is sit in a chair by a window and watch the snow. Ideally, there’s a table with the chair, and I have a mug of hot tea and a book. So I will read, and at the end of every section I look out and watch the snow. Sometimes briefly, sometimes for minutes. It’s hypnotic and relaxing and magical all at once.

On a good snowy day (which to me means at least four inches of snow), I often don’t even leave the house except to put out food for the birds along with fresh water. When it gets way below zero (-15 and colder) I also put out peanuts in the shell. Generally, I don’t like to put out peanuts because almost always the squirrels find them first and bury them all; and there are squirrels in my roof, and I hate to reward these trespassers with one of their favorite foods. However, when it’s twenty below, even I take pity on the squirrels, although I was happy to see the blue jays got to the peanuts first both of the last two times I put them out.

The birds are a great part of my joy in winter hibernation. Just today I saw a house finch at the feeder—the first one I’ve seen this year, and so brightly colored I thought it might be a purple finch. But the female showed up and I was assured they were house finches. I have had tons of juncos this year! Far more than usual. And not nearly as many chickadees as in past years, so I was happy to hear several of them when I was outside earlier today.

Hibernation is also good for reading. One of the books I’ve been reading (a surprise theme find) is The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, by Margareta Magnusson. Much like The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up (which I haven’t read), it is a book focused on decluttering. But it’s half the length and feels much more pragmatic (mind you I’m only one-third through). Magnusson suggests starting in the attic or the basement. She suggests starting with large things. She suggests starting with easy things.

So after 40 pages I’m looking around the house for big easy things. There’s that large cloth shopping basket I’ve never used. What about this air conditioner that doesn’t work? And I have entire categories of easy things to get to—linens and shoes, for sure. (Interestingly, not winter boots. I was shocked, looking through my death-cleaning eyes, to see I have four pair of winter boots. That’s nuts! What can go? I have two pair for serious winter snow, meaning over six inches. One pair is for shoveling and outdoor work. The other is for wearing in public. For the rest of winter, I primarily wear my little black snow boots for every day wear out of the house. But for quick runs into the yard—to the compost bin or the bird feeders, I like my old cheap step-in moon boots. I have one pair of tennis shoes and four pair of winter boots? Hmmm.)

And of course hibernation almost drives one to cook. I tried a dish I’d never heard of, called kedgeree, a mix of rice and lentils with cumin, cardamom, coriander, turmeric, and likely a few spices I’m forgetting. Next time I will use red lentils, as the brown lentils I used took much longer than the rice to cook (boo!). But the taste was sound, and it would serve as a good breakfast, a side dish, or on a tortilla.

I also made my first minestrone soup. I used the slow cooker and it tasted great. However, I have a piece of advice: Don’t use a pasta in a soup that you haven’t tried on its own. I used an “ancient grains” pasta. After the allotted time, it had fallen apart. Was it the pasta or the cooking method? I am not sure, but next time I think I will cook it stovetop. Sometimes I need a little more control than the slow cooker allows. Also made in hibernation: ham steak with corn pudding, and a big batch of applesauce.

We’ve finally been getting some serious winter here. I will tell you, I will take snow over a polar vortex any day. The up side of the vortex is that now a 10-degree day feels quite comfortable. We just yesterday shoveled out six inches of snow, and we might get six more inches overnight tonight. And then maybe another six inches Thursday. So there will be a whole lot of shoveling going on.

Happily, I love shoveling snow (along with raking leaves, one of my favorite household tasks). My absolute favorite is shoveling at night. It’s so quiet; snow muffles sound. Just me and a few neighbors, the sounds of shovels scraping snow. I cannot explain why I love this. It even smells good to me.

Mind you I love the light fluffy snow (which is what we’ve been getting) and not the heart attack snow, laden with moisture (that’s more in March/April). And of course by March/April, all of the glow has worn off the hibernation, but that’s okay because the days are longer and warm days are in reach.

For now, we’re in a winter cycle at least through the end of the month. You can hate it, or you can ride it, and I’ve decided to ride it. With a shovel, some books, birdseed, and a full pantry.