rachel’s blog

I always love a bargain, especially when it seems like the price of pretty much everything is going up. And a good deal is extra good when it comes as a complete surprise.

Occasionally I stop in at a funky little grocery store on my way home from work. It’s mostly a surplus-type store, but they also sell cheap, fresh, sometimes-semi-local produce. It’s run by a Ukrainian family and has a very straightforward name: “Save and Prosper.” The store isn’t far from my house, so yesterday afternoon I went there to buy an 89-cent avocado and a big 69-cent bunch of cilantro.

While the cashier was ringing up my items, she looked at me and said something I didn’t understand.

“What was that?” I asked.

She held the avocado in one hand while she pointed towards the produce and said… something. I had no idea if she was speaking English or Ukrainian, but she was clearly waiting for a response from me, so I raised my eyebrows and blinked. Brilliant, Rachel.

What happened next is still a mystery to me. The cashier walked over to the produce, picked up another avocado, and brought it back to the cash register. She only charged me for one of the avocados, but I guess she wanted me to have two. I thanked her, she told me to have a good day, and that was that.

Other good things in my weekend:

* holding beautiful five-day-old Madison Esther.

* walking to the farmer’s market with Lisa.

* enjoying fajitas, guacamole, and limeade on Rebecca’s deck.

* falling asleep last night… in spite of the rap music that someone else in the neighborhood was enjoying.

* seeing a “Beautiful British Columbia” license plate in the church parking lot… and remembering my vacation in BC last summer.

* bowling in a smoke-free bowling alley.

The other night I mentioned to someone that I had made bagels for the first time over Easter weekend.

“Soft bagels?” she asked.

Apparently she had pretzels on her mind. Unfortunately, it happened to be a very appropriate question. Bagels are supposed to be soft and chewy, but I managed to bake a not-so-soft batch of the World’s Chewiest Bagels. I wouldn’t exactly call them tough… just ridiculously chewy. They tasted good and the process was fun, but the overall outcome left a bit to be desired.

Ever since writing “make bagels” on my list of 101 Things in 1001 Days, I’ve been hoping to find someone who has made them before who could give me some tips. No luck. People think it’s a great idea, and they’ve all said that if I learn how to make bagels, they want my recipe and advice.

(This feels like a weird, inverse version of the Little Red Hen. Nobody said, “I’d love to help you eat the disappointing results of your bagel experiments,” but everyone wants to enjoy the final results of my quest to master the art of bagel-making.)

Lacking a bagel tutor and finding exactly zero recipes for bagels in my cookbook collection, I headed to the internet. As expected, my Google search yielded too many bagel recipes. I didn’t have a clue which recipe would lead to the perfect bagel, so I just looked through a few recipes and picked one.

In spite of the variations in recipes, the basic process is pretty standard. You create a batch of dough, knead it, and let it rise. Next you shape it into round balls, poke your thumb through the middle, and try to get it to look like a bagel.

How did I do? That’s what they looked like after letting them rise again. Next you cook them in a pot of boiling water for a few minutes. It’s kind of like making donuts, except that donuts are boiled in oil — a.k.a. deep fat fried. Different bagel recipes indicate different lengths of time for the boiling, so I’ll have to experiment with that.

Next you brush the bagels with egg yolk (to make them shiny), add seasonings if desired, and bake them. The recipe I used said to bake the bagels for 35-40 minutes. I checked them after 25 minutes and they were already overbaked.

Looks can be deceiving. They’re beautifully golden brown, but eating them gives your jaw a workout. Next time I won’t bake them as long! Once I’ve come up with a good basic bagel recipe, I’d like to experiment with different kinds of dough. Eventually I’d like to be able to replicate my favorite bagel from the local bagel shop — a sundried tomato spinach bagel. Mmm.

“There is no better way to cheer up a dreary February day than to have a pot of dried beans simmering on the stove.”

Yikes. It sounds like the author of these words doesn’t get out much.  I have a pot of beans simmering on the stove as I write this, and I don’t feel any cheerier than I did an hour ago. Then again, I wasn’t feeling down.

The statement I quoted was the opening line of a no-nonsense article about beans I found in our local newspaper this morning. If you read between the lines, you’ll find that the registered dietitian is hinting at something far more significant than little legumes. If your outlook on life matches the typically blah February weather, engage your senses. Allow your nose to be delighted by the aroma of soup wafting through the house. Choose foods that your taste buds will truly enjoy.

Yesterday I attended a fantastic Shrove Tuesday worship service in which we celebrated our senses. Brightly-colored streamers, fingerpainting, incense, donuts, and glorious music helped us to fully engage our God-given senses of sight, touch, smell, taste, and hearing as we worshiped our Creator. (I opted to engage my sense of touch by playing piano instead of fingerpainting.)

Rarely do we engage our senses in such a dramatic way within a worship setting. The worship leader joked that perhaps we should give up our deadened senses for Lent. I decided to take her seriously.

Like many others, I have typically given something up for Lent, and it has been a very meaningful practice for me. My small sacrifices during Lent have been daily reminders of the ultimate sacrifice that Christ made. This year, however, in giving up my deadened senses, I’m actually taking on a spiritual practice: engaging my God-given senses. As I pay attention to the things I see, hear, smell, touch, and taste, I am not only drawn into worship, but I am reminded of Christ’s humanity. What did Christ see, hear, smell, touch, and taste during the weeks leading up to His death?

The first sense I engaged this morning was hearing. My alarm clock was persistent. I crawled out of bed, walked downstairs, and listened as my bare feet shuffled across the hardwood floor. Outside, birds were singing. As I opened the front door to pick up the newspaper, I felt warm air on my bare arms. It didn’t feel like February outside, but I wasn’t complaining.

Before I sliced a grapefruit in half, I held it in my hands for a few moments, pressing gently against the smooth, almost rubbery skin. Later, as I brushed my teeth, I paid attention to the view out my bathroom window — a white church steeple and the dark wood of a bare tree against a backdrop of blue mountains and a gray sky.

I don’t have any windows in my office, but I’m thankful that one of my colleagues opened her window, allowing me to smell the fresh out-of-doors while I worked at my desk. After lunch, as I returned to the office, I saw my shadow appear on the sidewalk in front of me. Sunshine!

This evening as I was driving to an event at church, I glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw less pavement between my car and the Dodge Durango behind me than I would have liked. A few miles down the road, I was surprised to see colored Christmas lights. (Maybe the owners of the house left them up for Mardi Gras…) As I pulled into the parking lot, I caught a whiff of a skunk. A few minutes later, I heard a small blonde-haired boy say “Peekaboo!” to me as he jumped out from behind an easel.

Have you ever imagined Jesus tasting fresh fruit? Or seeing His shadow? Or smelling a malodorous animal?

Lent isn’t really supposed to be enjoyable, but this year I don’t care. I’m having too much fun celebrating my God-given senses.

It’s a good thing I never aspired to be a food photographer, because I’m not patient enough to work on honing my skills. When there’s a stack of piping hot pancakes sitting in front of me, drizzled with pure maple syrup, I want to eat them, not take pictures of them.

But this wasn’t your average plate of flapjacks. This was a mini-celebration of Fat Tuesday, Shrove Tuesday, Mardi Gras, Fastnacht Day, Carnival, or whatever you choose to call the day before Lent begins. Unlike the revelry in New Orleans, Rio de Janeiro, and other cities around the world, my celebration was ridiculously low-key. I worked all day and had class in the evening, so I couldn’t even squeeze in a fun dinner with friends. Pancakes to the rescue!

I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but I ate breakfast foods for all three meals today. Pancakes are one of the foods traditionally eaten on Shrove Tuesday, so I whipped up a tiny batch for lunch and another tiny batch for dinner. That’s a salad plate in the picture, not a dinner plate.

Nevertheless… Happy Carb Day!

If I agreed with the title of a book I received for Christmas, I wouldn’t be posting this. According to author Margaret Mason, “No One Cares What You Had for Lunch.”

I beg to differ.

I’m sure that somewhere out there, someone cares that I ate pita for lunch today. (You do, don’t you?) More than that, you might even want to know how I made it. If you’ve never considered baking your own pita, I highly recommend it. It’s even slightly entertaining… if you have an oven with a window. The flat dough puffs up and forms a pocket, just like a well-behaved pita should.

I know you’re not supposed to care what I had for lunch today, but I ate my fresh, warm pita with fresh, warm roasted red pepper hummus. Mmm. There are as many hummus variations as there are camels in Egypt, so I didn’t bother to write down my hummus recipe.

This whole wheat pita recipe is one I found online years ago and have modified slightly. Note: the oven temperature isn’t a typo. The hotter the better!

Ingredients:
1 1/4 c. warm water
1/2 t. sugar
2 t. active dry yeast
1/4 t. salt
2 1/2 - 3 c. whole wheat flour

Directions:

1. Place water and sugar in a large bowl and stir. Add yeast and stir slightly. Let rest for 5 minutes. Mix in salt and flour gradually.

2. Knead well for 5 minutes. Place the dough in a bowl and lightly coat it with oil. Cover with a cloth and let rise in a warm place for 30 minutes.

3. Preheat oven to 500 degrees. Divide dough into 8 balls. Roll out each ball to make 1/4-inch thick rounds. Lightly dust each side with flour by rubbing it with floured hands. Let rest covered for 20 minutes. Bake on ungreased cookie sheets for 5-8 minutes or until lightly browned.

Was it a map of Uzbekistan or a slice of bread? It was hard to tell. Unfortunately, it was indeed a slice from the Most Pitiful Loaf of Rye Bread ever made. I baked it yesterday afternoon, and needless to say, the recipe did not find its way to my list of the seven great recipes I’ve made during the first seven days of 2008.

I think I need a bread-baking tutor. Seriously. I’ve attempted to make bread a number of times, and it just never turns out like I want it to. Yesterday’s rye bread adventure was particularly disastrous. Edible, but just barely. I keep thinking that if I just try a different recipe, it will go better. (Practice makes perfect, right?) After yesterday, I’m beginning to reconsider that logic.

Besides the run-in with the deformed rye bread, I’m loving my new year’s resolution to “expand my culinary repertoire.” Already I’ve spent quite a few hours poring over cookbooks, peeking in my cupboards, scouring the internet, and digging through the freezer. The results have been quite tasty, ranging from Moroccan carrots on New Year’s Day to curried pumpkin soup this evening.

Believe it or not, my favorite new recipe is for lima beans. Lima beans! (I found the recipe for “lemony lima beans with parmesan” in a back issue of Everyday Food magazine, but you can also find it here). I only made a half recipe, and I still ended up with four servings. To my delight, I quickly discovered that with a little olive oil, lemon juice, and parmesan cheese, lima beans really ARE good!

Unlike my neighbors who were hootin’ and hollerin’ and blowing those little party horns, I spent the first few minutes of 2008 standing calmly on the sidewalk in front of my house. Earlier in the evening I had walked downtown for some First Night festivities, and then some friends and I came back to my house to hang out. I own a TV that’s rarely plugged in, so we weren’t watching the televised Times Square hoopla. Instead we walked outside just before midnight, listened to my neighbors chanting inside their house (seven, six, five…), and watched the fireworks. Ooo. Ahh.

After considering several possible New Year’s Resolutions, I’ve finally decided on just one resolution for 2008: expand my culinary repertoire. I love to cook, but somehow I’ve managed to become stuck in a culinary rut. No longer. Bon appetit!

It has come to my attention that there are people in this world who don’t know how to pop popcorn. (Shocking, isn’t it?)

I’m not talking about yanking the plastic off a pack of microwave popcorn, placing it This Side Up, and pressing the popcorn button. Sure, that’s quick and easy, but I prefer to pop it the old-fashioned way — in a kettle on top of the stove.

Not only is the old-fashioned way a lot more fun, but a big bag of popcorn kernels is cheaper and more environmentally friendly than boxes of microwave popcorn packets. And if you pop it on the stovetop, you don’t need any special appliances — just a kettle, popcorn, oil, and a big bowl.

Think it sounds too complicated? It’s not. Here’s how you do it. Pour some popcorn (1/3 cup?) and some oil (1 tablespoon?) into a kettle over medium heat. Stir it with a spoon so that the popcorn is coated with the oil. Shake the kettle a bit so that the popcorn becomes evenly distributed on the bottom of the kettle. Cover the kettle with a lid. Get out a bowl and some salt if you haven’t done so already… because this is your last chance. When you hear the popcorn start to pop, move the kettle in a continuous circular motion over the burner so that the heat is evenly distributed. When the popping has almost completely stopped, remove the kettle from the heat and pour the hot popcorn into the bowl. Sprinkle with salt and enjoy!

If you burn it the first time, don’t be afraid to try again. Experiment with technique and quantity until you get the hang of it. And then try to resist the temptation to make it every evening…

This morning Mom and I made 26 turkeys, and even though we thought we had enough, we really should have made four more. No, we weren’t feeding a multitude. And no, these weren’t real turkeys. They were made of candy.

Ideally I would have posted this a few days ago so you could make some cute little turkeys too, but in this case, a picture really IS worth a thousand words, so I had to wait until today.

We usually use fudge stripe cookies (with the stripes running vertically), but this year we experiented with a different kind of cookie. The candy turkeys are totally edible, since they’re held together with melted chocolate. You just have to be patient enough to hold your creation together until the chocolate cools and hardens.

Note to self: next year take along some extra candy corn for the toddlers who are interested in eating the heads off of everyone’s turkeys…

Last evening I went to hear a former college classmate of mine, Bethany Spicher Schonberg, speak about food and farming. With carefully chosen and beautifully crafted words, Bethany reminded us of the importance of thinking about where our food comes from, of knowing whether our food is grown in healthy soil, of being mindful of those who labor to harvest and produce our food.

I’ve been hearing a lot of talk about food recently — about the local farmer’s market, and about a new food co-op that’s starting up here in town, and about the 100 Mile Diet. These are great things, and I have friends and acquaintances who are actively involved with each of these. But even though I agree with and support the basic principles underlying these choices, I’m just not naturally gung-ho about incorporating these choices into my own lifestyle. However, instead of avoiding the issues that make me uncomfortable, as I often tend to do, this time I’m trying to learn more about them.

When I got home from hearing Bethany speak last night, I decided to bake some carrot cupcakes for an event I attended this evening. None of the ingredients were certified organic, and very few were locally grown or produced, but as I sifted and stirred, I took some time to reflect on the food I was making.

First of all, I was making the carrot cake. It never crossed my mind to buy the cupcakes from a bakery or purchase some kind of pre-packaged dessert. And I was making the carrot cake from scratch, not from a boxed mix. Brownies are perhaps the only food in the world that I think taste better when made from a boxed mix rather from scratch. I wish it weren’t so.

Most of my ingredients were purchased from my favorite grocery store — a locally-owned grocery store just a few blocks from my house that closes at 9 p.m. When I shop there, I almost always see people I know. If I make it the whole way through the store without saying hello to anyone, I’m a little disappointed.

The three eggs, however, did not come from that grocery store — or any grocery store. The eggs were laid by chickens that are owned and cared for by some children I go to church with. Just one dollar for a dozen beautiful, fresh eggs of several different varieties.

The recipe was from a cookbook compiled by the church where I grew up. I modified the recipe a bit, and offer my version here for your enjoyment. In the spirit of what Bethany spoke about last evening, when you make it, remember the laborers who planted, tended, and harvested the carrots.

::

Carrot Cake

3 eggs, beaten
3/4 c. vegetable oil
1/2 c. plain yogurt
1/4 c. milk
2 c. sugar
2 t. vanilla extract
2 c. all-purpose flour
2 t. ground cinnamon
2 t. baking soda
1/2 t. salt
1 8-oz. can crushed pineapple, undrained
2 c. grated carrots
1/2 c. raisins
1/2 c. chopped nuts
1/2 c. flaked coconut

Combine eggs, oil, yogurt, milk, sugar, and vanilla; mix well. Combine flour, cinnamon, baking soda, and salt; stir into egg mixture. Stir in pineapple, carrots, raisins, nuts, and coconut.

Spoon into papered cupcake tins and bake at 350 until done (approx. 15 minutes for mini cupcakes and 20 minutes for regular). When cool, frost with cream cheese frosting. Makes 24 mini cupcakes AND 20 regular cupcakes.

Enjoy!