Chicago, in Shades of Grey and Green

Oh, Chicago.  Even though you can no longer claim me as a resident, you are still the same dreamy, exhilarating, challenging city that you were when I first arrived, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with a shiny new college degree.  Seven years ago, you held such promise for me.  You delivered on your promises, and then some.  And even though you are cold and grey more often than not, I’m still drawn back to you like a magnet is attracted to the fridge door.  I adore you, but I am grateful to have made my home in a sunnier, warmer place where life seems a bit easier.  Our love has become a long-distance relationship.

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My week in rainy, springtime Chicago was bittersweet.  It was brimming with friends and new babies, and yet there were moments when I felt almost sick with loneliness.  There were train rides between Evanston and Chicago, but I missed my bike and the feeling of wheels flying over concrete and a Texas wind whipping through my hair.  Mornings usually consisted of bowls of hot oatmeal, topped with my usual peanut butter, sliced almonds, chocolate chips, and dried cherries, but I would long for a view of the Texas skyline outside of my patio door.

If I had to give my feelings a label, I’d say I had an acute case of homesickness.  I had thought that my trip to Chicago would feel like coming home, and in some ways it did, but without my home waiting for me at 534 Hinman Avenue, I was at a loss.  While I was busy setting up a new home in Texas, things changed back in Evanston.  My sweet friends Daphna and Ian finally got to bring their twin baby boys home from the hospital.  As we might expect, their lives have been changed forever by these two little bundles of joy.  Joy is the right word for these babies who were born way too early and whose arrival was filled with fear and sadness, not happiness and delight.  I got to visit them once in the hospital, just a few weeks before I moved to Texas, and my God there are no words for the sight of babies that small and fragile.  I remember being overwhelmed by the fear of what their futures might hold, the potential handicaps and developmental challenges that loomed like monsters crouched under the bed in the middle of the night.  Our grief was immense.  At some point during those first terrifying weeks after their birth, I just decided that I was going to believe that the twins would be okay.  I didn’t know what else to do.  So I believed, and then I left to start my new life in Texas.  Before I left, though, I promised Daphna and Ian that I’d be back.

Last week I made good on my promise, and I think the twins made good on my hope for them.  For one thing, they made it out of the hospital.  They came home.  Now they are five times heavier than they were at birth, and when they aren’t sleeping or eating, they’re busy being smiley, curious, playful babies.  Of course they have their moments when they’d rather howl than coo, and they keep the worst hours, determined to deprive everyone of sleep.  Daphna and Ian are exhausted, still wading through uncertainty and fear in their new role as parents, but seeing the boys last week has renewed my hope for their family.  Who knew that hope wears a dirty diaper and can’t sleep through the night?

I’m still not sure if my presence in Daphna and Ian’s home was more helpful or annoying.  I had the nagging sense that I was in the way, another adult upsetting the delicate balance in a household that has been turned upside-down by babies.  Before my arrival, I had made lots of plans with my Chicago friends and colleagues, and I worried that Daphna and Ian would see my coming and going as a sign that I was just using them as a free hotel.  That was never my intention—I was there first and foremost to visit their family—but after seeing how crowded and tense the house was with babies, parents, and grandparents all struggling to be noticed, I quickly decided that it would do all of us some good if I slipped away to do my own thing for a few hours each day.

With time on my hands and a credit card in my wallet, I made the most of my urban playground.  I visited my old haunts in downtown Evanston: Borders, Panera, the library, Whole Foods.  I browsed the cookbooks, ate soup, tried a new granola (with vanilla and dried strawberries—holy moly that stuff is good!).  I walked and walked and walked, feeling drenched in the green beauty of Evanston in May.  I sipped iced green tea at Panera, enjoying the solitude of that warm, cozy space after an afternoon of shopping and walking.

There were evenings out in Chicago.  My friend Ammie and I made dinner out of lemony braised fennel and turnips stewed with tomatoes and white beans.  For dessert, we made ice cream sandwiches with oatmeal cookies and rum raisin ice cream.  They were so good that we moaned with pleasure—loud, theatrical moans that made us giggle and slurp ice cream out the sides of our sandwiches.  Oatmeal cookies and rum raisin ice cream are an inspired combination, the soft chewiness of the cookies giving way to the boozy sweetness of cold ice cream.  I met Ammie’s two significant others, and I was surprised to find myself a little nervous to meet these two people who had only recently assumed such important roles in her life.  But they were delightful and funny, and we had such a good time together that Ammie had to kick them out so we could go to bed before midnight.  We shared her futon that night, and when we awoke, her two cats were cuddled around us.  It was like waking up in a sea of cats—soft and warm and lovely.

That morning, after Ammie headed off to work, I wandered around Andersonville, one of my favorite neighborhoods in Chicago.  Andersonville holds a special place in my heart as Matt’s old neighborhood, where we first started a friendship that would later grow into so much more.  I ate an early lunch at A Taste of Heaven, an omelet stuffed with spinach and cheese, with crisp potatoes cozied up alongside it.  In my past, I’d always felt shy about eating alone at places other than Panera or Noodles and Company, but sittting there, forking my eggs and watching the street traffic pass me by, I took deep breaths and felt myself settle into this trip to a place that was both home and not home.  The loneliness dissipated, and I felt full with the company of the city.  My displaced sense of belonging melted into a hunger to find my new home in this city laced with clouds and adventure.

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Dear reader, stay tuned for part two of my Chicago trip!  Part two will be posted tomorrow, May 24, with pictures and thoughts on homes near and far.  And speaking of home, it’s good to come back to my beloved blog and kind readers.  I missed you!

Into the Sky

Friends, I’m taking off tomorrow!  Me and my suitcases are getting on a plane and when we land, we’ll be in Chicago.

I’m equal parts excited and nervous about this trip.  There is a lot to be excited about.  For starters, did I tell you that Daphna and Ian have twin baby boys?  The twins are just shy of nine months.  D tells me they are starting to play, and I can’t wait to see them in action.  I am pretty good at playing, so I think we’re going to get along really well.  In addition to the fun that D and I are planning—a cruise around the farmers’ market, walks with the boys, coffee in downtown Evanston, some homecooked meals—my friend Ammie and I have a cookie-baking date and then a dinner party later in the week, where we’re going to make almond crust pizzas and an avocado salad and remember how much fun we have cooking together.  It’s going to be great.

I’m also hoping to spend some time alone, contemplating this place where I used to live but don’t any more.  I think it will be important for me to remember my sense of place in the town that used to be home.  Because I spent so much time alone when I lived in Evanston, I need some solitude to tap into that well of emotions inside of me.  I want to see my old apartment building, the place that held me and my life for six years.  I want to walk down to Lake Michigan and remember what it was like to live next to that cold, majestic body of water.  I want to eat Japanese Pan Noodles at Noodles and Company, like I did so many times after a long day in the lab.  I want to haunt the cookbook aisle of my old Borders, where I may even splurge on a new cookbook, though heaven knows I do not need a new cookbook.  (Even so, got any suggestions for a good one?  This bookworm loves books like a fruit fly loves wine!)  And of course, I want to shop at Whole Foods because of all the things I left behind in Evanston (not counting people), I miss Whole Foods and our farmers’ market the most.  (Japanese Pan Noodles are a close second, though.)  Plus I promised a new Texas friend that I’d bring her back a jar of Whole Foods peanut butter (the organic crunchy kind, please).

I may visit the planetarium in Chicago, something I wanted to do in September after I finished my PhD work but never got around to doing.  I also want to do a little shopping; I’m thinking about going to Crate and Barrel to find a KERF-style spoon.  You know the ones, curvy and bright-colored.  Is it strange to look forward to buying a spoon while on vacation?  I’m also hoping to drag Daphna with me to Ann Taylor Loft, a store we both love, to do a little browsing and trying on of new things.

While I’m in Chicago, I’ll be doing some couch-surfing, staying with Daphna and Ian for most of the time but spending a night at Ammie’s.  I hope it’s more fun than disconcerting—I haven’t had a sleepover with friends in a long time.  I have to make sure I get enough sleep so that I can keep up with all these plans I’ve made!

I always get nervous before I travel, and this trip is no exception.  Sometimes I think the nervous energy is good because it propels me to get everything done: the packing, the travel arrangements, the fixing of food to eat while in transit.  It takes a lot of work to get my butt out the door.  I have only myself to blame, me and my overpacking and my overly ambitious plans.  Sometimes I wonder why can’t I be more like Matt, who shows up at my door for a weekend with nothing but the tiniest of brown bags.  He is a man of the road, someone who knows how to travel lightly.  I envy him, but that’s about all I can do.  I don’t think I’m going to stop overpacking any time soon.

With that thought in mind, I’d better get back to my suitcases and my last-minute running around.  I’m not sure when you’ll hear from me again—I may pop in to say hello while I’m in my jewel of a city, but I just don’t know.  Certainly you’ll see me here again after Texas welcomes me back in ten days.

Chicago, I’ll see you soon.  I can’t wait.

Quick as a Wink

It occurs to me today that this site is headed straight into a no-cooking zone.  I think we all know why.  It starts with a T and ends with an exas, and friends, soon it is going to be very, very hot in the place where I live.

It’s funny how, whenever I told people I was moving to the Lone Star State, I would get at least one of two reactions.  The first: “Wow, it’s really hot down there!”  The second: “Hey, I hear Austin is great.”  After a while, these reactions started to drive me a little bonkers.  To the first, I wanted to say, “Duh!  That’s why I’m moving there!”  To the second, I wanted to say, “Well, I’m not moving to Austin.  Know anything about College Station?”

To be fair, I’m almost positive that I would have said the same things in response to someone’s declaration of intent to move to Texas.  I mean, what do we Northerners know about Texas?  It’s practically a foreign country to us.  There’s even a movement afoot to make Texas a foreign country.  Maybe I should get my passport now before I become an expatriate?

But those things aside, I like it down here.  In many ways, Texas and I are a natural match.  I was raised to be feisty and independent, and those qualities are the spirit of Texas.  I love the wildflowers and the birds, the big open sky, and Blue Bell ice cream.  Politically, I’m probably best described as a cross between liberal and libertarian, and our lab manager is working hard to win me over to the libertarian side.  To me, Christopher has been a one-man Texas welcome committee, and I count my lucky stars that we ended up in the same lab.  He’s a gem.

As for that prediction that it is going to be brutally and inhumanely hot this summer, well, yes.  I believe that.  Which is why I am stealthfully loading up this blog with recipes to get me through the summer.  I am not prepared for a Texas summer—not by a long shot.  In Chicago, the summers are wonderful—warm and breezy, with sunshine and farmers’ markets and a giddy sense of freedom from long pants and sweaters.  Because the summers are so short in the North, we really know how to party when the temperatures go up.  I brought that sense of brevity with me when I moved, which probably explains why I feel compelled to be outside all the time right now.  It hasn’t quite sunk in that summer is the default weather down here, just like winter is the default weather of the North.

These days, I am finding that the weather isn’t too oppressively hot for cooking.  Last night I made a big batch of black bean chili, and a few nights before that I made a wonderful frittata, both of which I plan to tell you about soon.  But I feel a certain sense of urgency to tell you about my no-cook recipes, probably because I want to squirrel them away for later.  Also, I find recipes that take about five minutes to put together kinda charming.  Maybe it’s an effect of opposites attracting: I love to plan, but five-minute recipes don’t require much planning, just some on-hand ingredients.  So I make a plan to have those ingredients on hand, or for a quick trip to the grocery store, and hey, we’re in business!

Today’s recipe makes me happy just thinking about it: Greek Iced Coffee.  While I cannot vouch for the authenticity of the name, I can tell you that this mixture of instant espresso, sugar, water, and milk is much tastier than the sum of its parts.  I’m not sure I expected much of it—it’s instant coffee—but it was good and it comes together quick as a wink.  Sweet and refreshing, the flavor is surprisingly rich, almost like a mocha.  It’s fun to make too: you shake the first three ingredients together in a jar to make a frothy, sweet coffee.  Then you add milk and you’re done!  You can sit back and enjoy a reward for your five minutes of work, or, like me, you can tuck it into your lunch sack and save it for a 4 PM pick-up.  Either way, it’s delightful.

 

And that cookie above?  No baking involved.  In fact, it came straight out of the freezer on Saturday.  Easiest recipe ever.  Except that I’m going to tinker with it because I can never leave things alone.  I’m not sure how you put up with me, but I’m glad you do.  Life, Love, and Food turns three this month, and I wish I could invite you all over for coffee and cookies.  Wouldn’t that be fun?  Something tells me that the distance between us might get in the way of a coffee klatch, so I’m going to stop talking now and just give you a recipe.  But I promise there will be cookies in the future.

Greek Iced Coffee

Adapted from EatingWell

Serves 1

1 tsp. instant espresso (I like Medaglia D’oro brand)

1 tsp. granulated sugar, preferably infused with vanilla bean (i.e., granulated sugar with a vanilla bean tucked inside the bag)

1/4 cup cold water

1/3 cup cold milk

1)  Place the espresso, sugar, and water in a small jar with a tight-fitting lid.  Screw on the lid, shake like mad for 15-30 seconds, until everything is frothy and well-blended.

2)  Add the milk.  Pour into a glass and drink immediately, or cover the jar with its lid and tuck in the fridge to save for later.

A Friday Chronology

Finally, finally, finally: I have cracked the code to a perfect Friday night.

I started with a lizard sighting.  I love the lizards down here!  They’re so exotic to me, something I am used to seeing only in glass cases at the pet store.  But here, they hang out on my patio and run away when I try to take a picture.  They threaten me too, nodding their head up and down and swelling their throat to show me how red and scary it is.  But it’s hard to be frightened of a creature that’s so small and cute, even when he’s being aggressive.

Then I went to the grocery store and bought wine.  This step is very important and necessary until I start building some sort of wine collection.  I’m not a big drinker, but I like wine.  Wine is fun.  Wine reminds me of Matt and relaxing with friends.  Wine reminds me to slow down, to sip, not gulp.  One glass is all I need, but oh, the amazing power of one glass of wine.

Last night I was all about the Chardonnay.  I waffled between J. Lohr and Toasted Head Chardonnays, remembering the visit that Matt and I made to J. Lohr’s winery in Paso Robles, California.  I read the bottle labels and was persuaded by Toasted Head’s promises of “aromas of vanilla spiced pear and nectarine…complemented by tropical fruit and toasty oak notes.”  Yes, please!

From the grocery store, I walked home, threw the wine in the fridge, was licked by a cute dog, and did a short but sweet running work-out while storm clouds brewed in the sky above.  A few drops slipped out of the clouds, but I made it home before the rains descended.  It was hot and humid outside, and I was drenched in sweat, so I hopped in the shower to cool off.  Then I put on my favorite pajamas and went into the kitchen to make dinner.

I’ve been going through my old issues of Vegetarian Times, ripping out recipes that I want to save and putting the remaining magazines in a give-away pile.  [Dear reader, are you interested in the give-away pile?  E-mail me if you’d like back issues of VT and we’ll work something out!  All I ask is that you pay for shipping.]  A hummus recipe had caught my eye—I really want a hummus recipe to call my own, something that I love and love to share with others.  I keep trying recipes, but I have yet to come across a candidate for my recipe.  This new recipe was a little unusual: it left out the tahini to make a lower-fat hummus.  I find tahini to be very bitter, and I wondered if I’d prefer a hummus without it.  The answer is yes, I do!  The hummus was wonderful: creamy and spiced with cumin, smoked paprika, and cayenne pepper.  I streamlined the recipe by replacing the garlic plus olive oil with garlic oil, and even though I don’t usually post recipes on Saturdays, I will make an exception for this hummus because I like it a lot.

I paired the hummus with homemade tortilla chips, carrot sticks, a green salad with feta, and of course, my glass of Chardonnay.  Then dinner and I watched Private Practice together on Hulu.  Everybody needs a guilty pleasure or two, and Private Practice is one of mine.  The show has been so good lately!

The wine was fabulous.  It tasted like toasted marshmallows and pineapple, with some heat and oak at the end.  I mangled the cork trying to open the bottle and ended up with a few bits of cork in my wine glass, which I like to think complemented the other flavors.  I like a little cork with my marshmallow.  Also, I found the fire-breathing bear to be a very convincing mascot for the wine.  That’s kinda how I felt after this long week: don’t mess with me.

Then it was time to clean up the kitchen, run the dishwasher, and soak some oats for breakfast.  I stayed up past my bedtime, curled up with a book, and when I finally turned off the light, I fell asleep almost instantly and slept like a hibernating bear.  It was perfect.

Tahini-Free Hummus

Adapted from Vegetarian Times

Makes about 1 1/2 cups

This creamy hummus is probably quite similar to other versions you’ve tried, but as I say above, leaving out the tahini makes for a less bitter, more mellow hummus.  The garlic oil adds a nice richness, and the lime juice adds spunk.  I think the combination of spices is very nice—a bit of smoke, a smidge of heat.  This recipe might become my signature hummus.  And every chickpea lover needs her own hummus recipe.

1 15-oz. can chickpeas, drained and rinsed

1/2 tsp. ground cumin

1/8 tsp. smoked paprika

1/16 tsp. or a pinch of cayenne pepper

1 tbsp. garlic-infused olive oil

1 tbsp. fresh lime juice

1 tbsp. yogurt

Salt and pepper to taste

1)  Place all the ingredients in a food processor.  Buzz until smooth and creamy, scraping down the sides as needed.  If the hummus seems a little dry, you can add a little more yogurt or olive oil to help it blend together smoothly.

2)  Taste the hummus and add salt and/or pepper if needed.  Serve with chips or veggies for scooping or dipping.

A Sign of the Earth

Intrepid a and I are feeling dirty tonight!  Or rather, we’re writing about dirt.  Which is not at all the same thing as feeling dirty.  a’s post is right here; go on and say hello to her!

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When I think of dirt, I think of possibility and accomplishments.  I think of running.  In college, I was a cross-country runner, and we spent many hours running on dirt.  The dusty backroads of rural Michigan were our playground, with occasional jaunts into the college’s nature center.  In the heat of those late summer days, the dirt roads answered our footsteps with clouds of dust, and the dirt would stick to our sweaty legs as we pounded out our work-outs.  As the summer eased into fall, the seasonal transition would bring with it rains.  Sometimes we would run outside in downpours, the roads and our bodies slick with rain.  During speed work-outs, we would run directly through mud puddles, our shoes turning into dirty squishy sponges that squeaked and squirted the mud water back out at us.  We ran no matter what the weather was unless there was lightning involved.  And whenever we had the chance, we ran on dirt.

During graduate school, dirt acquired a new meaning.  I was in college when I became a vegetarian, but it took me a few more years to really discover vegetables.  I don’t mean that I didn’t eat a single vegetable until I was 25.  It’s that my vegetable repertoire was limited and predictable: carrots, green peppers, tomatoes, onions, corn, lettuce, potatoes.  I ate my vegetables diligently, but I was not curious to discover more.  In graduate school, a new world opened up to me, a world with fennel and radishes and fresh green beans.  My friend Anne taught me how to cook zucchini.  It’s embarrassing to admit now that I needed to be taught how to handle a ubiquitous garden vegetable.  But I didn’t know, and Anne didn’t laugh at me, which was very nice of her.  I studied cookbooks and learned how to make an awesome vegetable soup and I started topping my pizzas with thinly sliced zucchini.  Looking back now, I feel like those years in the kitchen were very formative for me.  Though I am always learning about cooking, I feel like I really learned how to cook in that big kitchen in my old apartment.

All those vegetable-based meals gave me a new appreciation for dirt, the direct source for the stuff that showed up on my dinner plate.  Dirt was a place where the magic and miracle of life began.  I became an admirer of gardens and my gardening-friends, happy to compliment them on their basil plants or muck around in the soil, planting seeds.  When I became a regular customer at the farmers’ market, smudges of dirt thrilled me, a sign of the earth that had yielded such beautiful food for us to enjoy.

The most recent lesson that dirt has taught me is that it can make a new apartment feel like home.  Now, I’m no clean freak, although I do like an orderly home.  A little dust and dirt do not induce panic attacks in me.  But I’ve found that cleaning a space is a profound bonding experience for me.  After vacuuming and dusting, wiping and washing in my new place here in Texas, I feel much more like a resident rather than a visitor.  Sometimes with all the sunshine and the swimming, I feel like I’m on vacation.  But then I realize that the bathrooms are dirty again and I haven’t vacuumed in a week and I am reminded that yes, I do live here.  It may sound unromantic to put it that way, but I am relieved to have a home, a place to cook and clean and put my feet up at the end of the day.  In its way, dirt is homey and comforting to me.  But I do keep my running shoes right next to the front door, just in case I need to exchange the dirt on my carpet for dirt under my sneakers.

A Matter of Time

Let me be the first to say it: I am a hypocrite.

I think it’s really hard not to be a hypocrite.  Certainly I’m not the only person to declare, “I do not like that,” only to find myself changing my ways after an enlightening experience.  Heck, think about how many romances start with animosity, intense negative passion that transforms into love.  One of my favorite moms loves to remind me that when she first met the man she would later marry, she did not like him.  At all.  Thirty-something years later, they have one of the most loving and playful relationships I’ve ever seen.  See what hypocrisy can do?  It’s magic, I say.

In my more mature moments, I try to be open-minded about new things and people, but it’s hard.  It’s really, really hard.  I am an adult version what the psychologists call a “slow to warm up” baby, referring to children who are wary of strangers and new things but can eventually grow to like and trust new people.  I rarely jump into new situations without carefully assessing the scene.  Not surprisingly, I am terrible at dating.  But I’m no longer going to apologize for these things.  I am not perfect.  I’m not going to waste my time feeling bad about my flaws.  So yes, I am a hypocrite.  I am, however, willing to admit when I am wrong.

I was wrong about green smoothies.

If you follow any of the food journal blogs, you must have seen smoothies that are blended with leafy greens like spinach or kale.  The idea struck me as ludicrous, something you’d do only if you were an extreme health nut or unable to eat leafy greens prepared in a more traditional way.  I love salads and kale prepared with minimal fuss—salads dressed with good olive oil and a squeeze of lemon juice or even nothing at all if I just want the taste of green.  I like my kale steamed, and if I’m feeling fancy, I’ll spoon some Maple-Mustard Vinaigrette over it.  Leafy greens are delicious—they don’t need to be blended into oblivion to be enjoyed.

I don’t know why I decided to try a green smoothie in the first place.  Peer pressure?  All the cool bloggers were doing it?  Boredom?  Too much spinach in the vegetable drawer?  Whatever the reason, I did it.  I started with my favorite basic smoothie recipe, this frozen banana and chocolate treat (no sugar and without the espresso powder), and I added two handfuls of baby spinach.  I remember I’d just come back from a long training run outside, and the wind was fierce.  I arrived home with bits of sand and dirt stuck in my eyes and on my face, and I was exhausted from trying to run against that wind.  I needed fuel, and I needed it fast.  And I remember thinking that getting a little more green into my diet wouldn’t be an awful thing, even if it wasn’t necessary.

What surprised me the most was that this inaugural green smoothie was GOOD.  I couldn’t even taste the spinach above the flavors of banana, cocoa, and malt powder—it was just my usual smoothie with an extra hit of nutrition.  I liked it.

Since then, I’ve moved on to a more intense green smoothie, one made with baby lettuce.  This version is like an amped-up version of my first one, substituting lettuce for the spinach and adding some berries and vanilla.  In the lettuce smoothie, I can taste the greens—they have a slightly bitter taste that contrasts with the sweetness of bananas and milk.  It surprises me that I like the bitterness—the flavor is more complex, more grown-up.  The smoothie looks like swamp water, all green and brown, but the taste is fabulous.

A green smoothie can be a treat by itself, but when combined with homemade granola, it’s downright decadently healthy.  My long-time readers know that a granola recipe will appear on this site every couple of months.  I just love granola, and I love the endless varieties that one can make and still call it granola.  Recently I fell in love with dried cherries.  It was only a matter of time before they showed up in a granola recipe here.  Today’s recipe is a variation on what I think is a classic granola template—the ratios are very similar to other granolas I’ve made and loved.  We’re not reinventing the wheel here.  Flavorwise, it’s delightful: lightly sweetened with honey, it’s nutty and chewy, and the ratio of oaty granola to dried cherries is just right: not too little, not too much.  It’s delicious as a topping for a smoothie, even one that dares to include lettuce.  I’m including a recipe for my swamp monster smoothie below—I dare you to try it!  And gardeners: green smoothies are a great way to use up some of those mounds of lettuce you may be harvesting right now.  Your crisper drawer will thank you.

Cherry Almond Granola

Adapted from We Are Not Martha’s Cherry Vanilla Granola

Makes a bit more than 4 cups (estimated yield)

Almonds and honey and dried cherries—it’s like a round-up of Rose-Anne’s favorite things!  In granola form!  I should mention that the yield listed above is estimated because I didn’t measure the final yield—I just divided my granola among various containers and that was that.  I’ll double-check my estimate when I make another batch.

2 1/2 cups rolled oats

1/2 cup oat bran

1/4 cup sliced almonds

1/4 cup almond flour

1/2 cup unsweetened shredded coconut

1/8 tsp. salt

1 tbsp. salted butter

1 tbsp. mild extra-virgin olive oil

1 tbsp. packed brown sugar

1/4 cup honey

1 tsp. vanilla

1/2 cup dried cherries

1)  Preheat the oven to 275 degrees F.  Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.  I use my 10x15-inch rimmed roasting pan for making most of my granolas.

2)  In a large bowl, mix together the oats, oat bran, almonds, almond flour, coconut, and salt.  Set aside.

3)  In a small pan on the stovetop, melt the butter and olive oil together.  Remove from heat and stir in the sugar, honey, and vanilla.

4)  Stir the butter mixture into the dry ingredients, mixing as thoroughly as you can to distribute the wet ingredients into the dry ones.  The combined mixture will be clumpy and sticky; carry on with your granola-baking in the next step.

5)  Spread the sticky, clumpy mixture over the prepped baking sheet.  Bake for 30 minutes.

6)  Remove the granola from the oven.  Sprinkle the dried cherries over it, separating the cherries into individual pieces of fruit if they have clumped together.  Bake for another 15 minutes, then remove the granola from the oven and let it cool completely.  Eat immediately or pack into sealed bags or containers and store at room temperature.

Rose-Anne’s Swamp Monster Smoothie

Makes 1 very generous serving or 2 more modest servings

Green and brown never tasted so delicious together.  If you must, you can add a little sweetener to make this tastier—sugar, honey, maple syrup, or whatever you prefer.  Because I eat this with lots of granola, I don’t add any sugar to the smoothie base.

2/3 cup milk (I like 2% cow’s milk here for a richer taste)

1/3 cup water

1/4 tsp. or an unmeasured splash of vanilla

1 ripe banana, fresh or frozen

3 strawberries, fresh or frozen

1/2 tbsp. cocoa powder

1/2 tbsp. malt powder (optional but delicious)

2 big handfuls of baby lettuce, such as baby Romaine.  Spinach would probably work here too.

1)  Combine all ingredients in a blender and blend for 30 seconds to combine thoroughly.  Scrape down the sides, blend some more if needed, then pour into one or two glasses.  Top with some Cherry Almond Granola and serve.

A Weekend of Hope and Hominy

I’ve been very grouchy lately.  It’s been a damage-control kind of week, trying to minimize the destruction of my bad mood.  There have been some recurring problems at work and back pain, but I also think someone switched my multivitamins for misanthropy pills.  I will be the first person to admit that I am moody, but it’s unusual for a bad mood to linger this long unless hormones are involved.  My calendar says they’re not.  So misanthropy pills must be the cause!

But today is Saturday, which means a respite from work and its problems.  I’m actually feeling pretty good today.  Maybe because I had waffles for breakfast!

These waffles are straight out of the freezer (Eggo Nutrigrain), topped with either a quick blueberry sauce or a yogurt-peanut butter sauce and bananas.  Waffles appeared on my breakfast table because I don’t have enough milk for cereal, but I think it was a serendipitous occasion.  This was a good breakfast.

I’m a little sad that my dinner party plans for tomorrow fell through.  I had invited a friend over for dinner, and I was going to make us this soup and a big salad with fresh croutons, all crispy-hot from the oven.  I was also thinking about making some Walnut Wafers for dessert.  There would have been wine too, and laughter, and maybe some cheese.  But now I’m on my own again, and I’m feeling a vague sense of drifting through life with no real human connections to this place where I live.  In graduate school, my non-science friends became as essential to me as breathing.  With just one non-science friend here in Texas, I’m feeling a little lonely.

Dinner party or not, I have declared this weekend Family Weekend.  I need to call my mother to assure her that I’m not lying in a ditch somewhere.  She’s really old-fashioned and will never, ever pick up a phone to call me.  I think in the ten years that I’ve lived outside of her house, she’s called me exactly once.  This may sound a little mean, but if she’s concerned about me AND she won’t call, I think she’s refusing to solve her own problems.  I’m going to call her today or tomorrow.  Other Family Weekend events will include card-shopping for Mother’s Day and gift-buying for a brother’s upcoming birthday.  I love buying cards and presents, so I’m looking forward to my plans.

I find that cleaning and organizing are effective mood-boosters, so I’m also looking forward to mundane chores such as doing the laundry, filing financial paperwork, and cleaning the bathrooms.  I love how tangible the results are from domestic tasks.  In between rounds of my domestic goddess act, I’ll be grocery-shopping and cooking.  I want to make a tomato soup similar to this one but featuring hominy, which I forgot how much I love until last weekend.  There was a can of hominy lurking in my pantry, and I finally popped it open to make The Ultimate Veggie Bowl of Red.  The spicing in this chili is really nice—it’s hot but not set-your-head-on-fire hot and the combination of herbs and spices creates a wonderful depth and layering of flavor.  I ate the entire batch of chili by myself and wasn’t the least bit tired of it by the end, which is high praise.  This weekend, instead of chili, it will be an Italian bowl of red with chewy nuggets of hominy and lots of vegetables.  I can’t wait.

Happy May Day, dear readers!  I hope your weekend is a great one.