It’s a good time of year for cozy sharing of a favorite soup with a new friend.
For another food-related New Year’s Resolution, please see New Year’s Resolution: Recipe.
Tag: Food
Taking Down the Tree
The day after Epiphany is traditionally the occasion for packing up all the ornaments and toting the Christmas tree off for recycling (in honor of which I post this painting, and a poem by Jane Kenyon). That is, unless you live in a household in which the offspring are eager to extend the season as long as possible. One year we actually left ours up past Valentines Day. We did remove the ornaments, however, replacing them with red and white hearts. Very pretty, if rather unseasonal.
The painting is one of a new series begun in the fall. More on that soon.
“Give me some light!” cries Hamlet’s
uncle midway through the murder
of Gonzago. “Light! Light!” cry scattering
courtesans. Here, as in Denmark,
it’s dark at four, and even the moon
shines with only half a heart.
The ornaments go down into the box:
the silver spaniel, My Darling
on its collar, from Mother’s childhood
in Illinois; the balsa jumping jack
my brother and I fought over,
pulling limb from limb. Mother
drew it together again with thread
while I watched, feeling depraved
at the age of ten.
With something more than caution
I handle them, and the lights, with their
tin star-shaped reflectors, brought along
from house to house, their pasteboard
toy suitcases increasingly flimsy.
Tick, tick, the desiccated needles drop.
By suppertime all that remains is the scent
of balsam fir. If it’s darkness
we’re having, let it be extravagant.
—Jane Kenyon
Emily
Of Two Worlds
Here is my daughter blowing out her birthday candles last year. Today she enters her teen years (!), chronologically leaving childhood behind; yet in reality she is straddling two worlds. In her are blended right now the growing thoughtful awareness and surprising wry humor of a young woman, and the openheartedness and generous, candid spontaneity of a child. It’s a sometimes-challenging but always-engaging time. In honor of her day, I post this poem by Sharon Olds, as it describes a malady my daughter shares. Happy, happy birthday, dear one.
Diagnosis
By the time I was six months old, she knew something
was wrong with me. I got looks on my face
she had not seen on any child
in the family, or the extended family,
or the neighborhood. My mother took me in
to the pediatrician with the kind hands,
a doctor with a name like a suit size for a wheel:
Hub Long. My mom did not tell him
what she thought in truth, that I was Possessed.
It was just these strange looks on my face—
he held me, and conversed with me,
chatting as one does with a baby, and my mother
said, She’s doing it now! Look!
She’s doing it now! and the doctor said,
What your daughter has
is called a sense
of humor. Ohhh, she said, and took me
back to the house where that sense would be tested
and found to be incurable.
— Sharon Olds
Eileen
Sisterhood of Squash
It’s finally getting too cold to draw from nature outdoors, so we’re sketching from the pantry, and thus cut open a recent discovery: a Sunshine Squash. (If you like winter squash, you will love this super-sweet and tender variety.)
It was my daughter who noticed the squash’s interior division into thirds, and, more subtly, sixths, and who suggested we add our squash drawings to our cucumber drawing pages. So we did. It’s exciting to find, despite their apparent exterior differences, their interior commonalities. And together they make a lovely pair. There’s a life lesson for you.
Gina
Deep Dark Chocolate
I could not resist posting pictures of these two cakes my husband made for the Washington Waldorf School Bazaar tomorrow. The recipe is Deep Dark Chocolate Cake, from the cookbook BakeWise. For the relief on top, he created the head first in clay, then made a silicon and plaster mold, then cast two in chocolate.
I cannot tell you yet how the cakes taste (come to the Bazaar to find out!), but my daughter and I greatly enjoyed licking the bowls, and I myself had to be restrained from finishing off the frosting before it was actually applied to the cake.
Even the Dead Are Rising Up to Dance
In honor of Día de los Muertos, here are our skull bread and bones (although they look rather like dog biscuits) and the bilingual song by Tish Hinojosa that we sing every year after the lighting of the candles. For more on this celebration, and the recipe for anise-flavored Pan de Muerto, please see Día de los Muertos.
Hasta Los Muertos Salen a Bailar
La luna llena acaba de llegar El otro mundo empieza a despertar Bajo las sombras vamos a cantar Hasta los muertos salen a bailar. Al camposanto, hay que celebrar Porque esta noche todo es embrujar Y el coyote empieza a aullar Hasta los muertos salen a bailar.Chorus
Flores, canciones, papel de colores Olores de antojos que traen Quienes recuerdan amores, santos, pecadores Allí vamos a estar. A The moon is full of something on the rise The other world is opening its eyes Out in the graveyard, we will sing a stance Even the dead are rising up to dance.Chorus
Love songs and flowers and papers, bright colors And smells of the food that we bring There we remember the saints and the sinners This night with them we will sing. A Los embrujados salen a bailar Y La Llorona mira donde está Ai con la momia enruedada va Hasta los muertos salen a bailar. ALos abuelitos salen a bailar Tíos y tías salen a bailar Hasta monjitas van de allá pa’ca Hasta los muertos salen a bailar. A
La luna llena acaba de llegar El otro mundo empieza a despertar Out in the grave yard we will sing a stance Even the dead are rising up to dance. A Hasta los muertos salen a bailar. Even the dead are rising up to dance.
—Tish Hinojosa
Jack O’Lanterns
Michaelmas/Rosh Hashanah
This year two festivals of autumn fall upon the same day: Michaelmas, the feast of the dragon-conquering St. Michael the Archangel, and Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. And appropriately so, since both, although from different spiritual traditions, call for reflection upon and atonement for our deeds and misdeeds of the past year and a courageous awakening to our innermost thoughts. The days now grow shorter, and as we head into winter we plan consciously to nurture the light within.
So in our family we honor the season ecumenically, if perhaps sacrilegiously, and don red garments, blow our tofu horn, say special verses and blessings to help us reflect, and share apples dipped in honey and challah baked in the shape of a dragon. A light-filled MichaelmHashanah to you.
Dad
Equinox Cupcakes
To celebrate the autumn equinox, one of the two times of year when the day and the night are of equal length, my daughter and I baked half-and-half cupcakes (lemon/chocolate). We distributed them door-to-door in the neighborhood, wherever we saw lights shining in the window after dinner on Equinox Eve, since the actual event was to take place at 5:05 am EDT the following morning. And you don’t want to be caught cupcake-less. Although I’m not sure everyone waited until the following morning to eat them. Happy Autumn, everybody.
The Art of Cooking
Julia McWilliams Child (1912-2004) would probably be horrified at the departure from classic cuisine depicted herein, but I post it in a spirit of unequivocal admiration for her blend of the classic and the unconventional that made her both compelling and beloved.
Today is the birthday of the woman who probably did more than any other individual to open the eyes and broaden the palates of American cooks. I recall my mother and her best friend watching reruns of The French Chef and using their families as guinea pigs for meals drawn from Mastering the Art of French Cooking. For which we were not entirely grateful at the time—children being creatures of habit—but which inevitably expanded and uplifted our tastes. Happy Birthday Julia, and merci mille fois.
Today is also the Feast of the Assumption, one of the the many holy days which the French honor in sacred traditional fashion: that is, taking off from work and heading out of town for some R&R (if they are not already there, it being, after all, the month of August). For a comic, please see Assumption.
Jenny