We're pretty sure Kima's all Dalmatian, but with her constant grass-grazing in the backyard, it may be time to ask: do we share our home with a barking, shedding, squirrel-chasing Holstein?
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Moo
We're pretty sure Kima's all Dalmatian, but with her constant grass-grazing in the backyard, it may be time to ask: do we share our home with a barking, shedding, squirrel-chasing Holstein?
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Hosta [is] La Vista, Baby
Unless you're a tulip person, in which case perhaps you prefer the vista from the porch view:
The confetti is white cherry blossom from the trees that will cover the backyard in shade for the rest of the summer. Lots of rain here means the grass we planted is making a real go of it. HK gets the credit for purchasing and planting all the lovely daffodils and tulips this Fall. Still to come: Alium pom-pom blooms. We hope, anyway.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Popcorn Multiculturalism
Can't remember where I first heard the term "popcorn multiculturalism," but I've always liked it as a critique of the ways that Americans "celebrate diversity." I'm sure it could also mean that the discourse around multiculturalism and the way it gets presented in schools is often without substance or much nutritional/ educational value--that it's a lot of nonsense dressed up with butter and salt. And I have a vague memory of eating popcorn in elementary school around Thanksgiving, since pilgrims and Native Americans may have eaten popped corn in the seventeenth century, and that bit of cross-cultural culinary celebration of coexistence worked out smashingly well in the long run for all some of the guests , so voila, popcorn = the multiculture.
I think the best example of why culinary multiculturalism as practiced in schools yields unpredictable results comes from a few lines in Li-Young Lee's superb poem, "Persimmon," in which his teacher presents his sixth grade class with a persimmon:
...
Mrs. Walker brought a persimmon to class
and cut it up
so everyone could taste
a Chinese apple. Knowing
it wasn’t ripe or sweet, I didn’t eat
but watched the other faces
...
It's a beautiful poem and this is the smallest, least interesting part; really you should go read it now. I like the idea of a well-meaning educational exercise derailed by incomplete knowledge and unripe fruit, with the other kids eager to try and then having their suspicions of the foreign confirmed by the chalk and pucker of the unripe flesh instead of the delight that is a properly ripe persimmon.
The poem, of course, tells you how to eat persimmons: you age them first in crumpled newspaper and then monitor them on the bedroom windowsill with the same care and patience you need to weather your own emergence from adolescence and your father's encroaching blindness. Are you convinced yet? Really, just go read the poem already.
So, no popcorn multiculturalism. But popcorn that incorporates two cultures--fusion popcorn--well that's culinary multiculturalism I will embrace.
We're enjoying Grace Young's stirfry book and she says that no wok performs at its best until it has years' worth of patina seared onto the carbon steel, but you can cheat the process a bit by making popcorn in the wok--it distributes the hot oil all around in a way that speeds the darkening of the wok.
So lately I've been making popcorn in the wok, and instead of soy sauce and nutritional yeast I've been drizzling on some Sichuan chili oil that I decided to make after an awesome visit to NYC. I met my brother and my parents and D.'s friend and his parents out in Flushing, Queens for Sichuan food at Little Pepper.
7 of us ate:
cold tripe
dan dan noodles
cumin roasted lamb in tin foil (apparently more Northern Chinese than Szechuan but still delicious)
dumplings and wontons in two different sauces
fried tilapia in red sauce
crunchy cubed and deep fried chicken with sesame and chiles
bamboo shoots in chili oil
tea-smoked duck
pea shoots
two variations on leeks (I think?) with pork belly or maybe some kind of sweet-cured bacon
cold silken tofu in chili oil with blackened scallion and Sichuan peppercorn
The tripe was my fault; I'd never tried it before. For something that looks like the hook side of velcro and has the texture of a long-chewed chiclet, this was actually pretty tasty, but not nearly as good as half a dozen of the other dishes. The tea-smoked duck and the leek dishes were lovely, and so was the cold tofu, which I decided would be easy to duplicate at home if I had this Sichuan chili oil that I read about on the Red Cook blog recommended by Grace Young. The chili oil is wonderful stuff--star anise and cinnamon for aromatics, scallion and ginger for hearty flavor, Sichuan peppercorns and pepper flake for heat. But as you can see from the comments, it wasn't the right recipe for the cold tofu. Kiam Lam Kho explains the right way to make that dish in the comment section:
Recap:
1) you should go to Little Pepper if you can.
2) you should read Li-young Lee's poetry and Kiam Lam Kho's blog.
3) Looks like I'm headed back to the Asian grocery store for mala dressing ingredients.
I think the best example of why culinary multiculturalism as practiced in schools yields unpredictable results comes from a few lines in Li-Young Lee's superb poem, "Persimmon," in which his teacher presents his sixth grade class with a persimmon:
...
Mrs. Walker brought a persimmon to class
and cut it up
so everyone could taste
a Chinese apple. Knowing
it wasn’t ripe or sweet, I didn’t eat
but watched the other faces
...
It's a beautiful poem and this is the smallest, least interesting part; really you should go read it now. I like the idea of a well-meaning educational exercise derailed by incomplete knowledge and unripe fruit, with the other kids eager to try and then having their suspicions of the foreign confirmed by the chalk and pucker of the unripe flesh instead of the delight that is a properly ripe persimmon.
The poem, of course, tells you how to eat persimmons: you age them first in crumpled newspaper and then monitor them on the bedroom windowsill with the same care and patience you need to weather your own emergence from adolescence and your father's encroaching blindness. Are you convinced yet? Really, just go read the poem already.
So, no popcorn multiculturalism. But popcorn that incorporates two cultures--fusion popcorn--well that's culinary multiculturalism I will embrace.
We're enjoying Grace Young's stirfry book and she says that no wok performs at its best until it has years' worth of patina seared onto the carbon steel, but you can cheat the process a bit by making popcorn in the wok--it distributes the hot oil all around in a way that speeds the darkening of the wok.
So lately I've been making popcorn in the wok, and instead of soy sauce and nutritional yeast I've been drizzling on some Sichuan chili oil that I decided to make after an awesome visit to NYC. I met my brother and my parents and D.'s friend and his parents out in Flushing, Queens for Sichuan food at Little Pepper.
7 of us ate:
cold tripe
dan dan noodles
cumin roasted lamb in tin foil (apparently more Northern Chinese than Szechuan but still delicious)
dumplings and wontons in two different sauces
fried tilapia in red sauce
crunchy cubed and deep fried chicken with sesame and chiles
bamboo shoots in chili oil
tea-smoked duck
pea shoots
two variations on leeks (I think?) with pork belly or maybe some kind of sweet-cured bacon
cold silken tofu in chili oil with blackened scallion and Sichuan peppercorn
The tripe was my fault; I'd never tried it before. For something that looks like the hook side of velcro and has the texture of a long-chewed chiclet, this was actually pretty tasty, but not nearly as good as half a dozen of the other dishes. The tea-smoked duck and the leek dishes were lovely, and so was the cold tofu, which I decided would be easy to duplicate at home if I had this Sichuan chili oil that I read about on the Red Cook blog recommended by Grace Young. The chili oil is wonderful stuff--star anise and cinnamon for aromatics, scallion and ginger for hearty flavor, Sichuan peppercorns and pepper flake for heat. But as you can see from the comments, it wasn't the right recipe for the cold tofu. Kiam Lam Kho explains the right way to make that dish in the comment section:
The cold tofu dish you described is a wonderful appetizer served regularly in Sichuan. It is sometimes served as a preserved egg and tofu dish. The dressing is what we call “mala” dressing. It is made with soy sauce, black vinegar, sugar, Sichuan peppercorn powder, the chili oil and optionally a little extra Sichuan chili sauce.
This chili sauce is made with fried onions, Sichuan peppercorn, fermented soy beans, sesame oil and other seasonings. You can buy this Sichuan chili sauce in Chinatown market and the best known brand is “Lao Gan Ma” or “Old God Mom.” Here is a facebook page on “Lao Gan Ma” brand of chile products. The one you should look for to make the dressing is currently depicted in the fifth picture in the photo album.
https://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2361721520&v=info
I believe this is the sauce that Little Pepper use for their “mala” dressing. Enjoy!
Recap:
1) you should go to Little Pepper if you can.
2) you should read Li-young Lee's poetry and Kiam Lam Kho's blog.
3) Looks like I'm headed back to the Asian grocery store for mala dressing ingredients.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Bird Internet
It's time for a post about Baltimore's birds! No, not the Orioles. And ok, not the pink flamingo either. It's heron blogging season! Usually Nick takes care of this, but now that the herons are on my way home from rollerskiing, he has to share. And anyway, pretty clear that the new bird internet revolution will be tweeted, not televised or blogged. Anyway, yellow-crowned Jones Falls herons: At least 7 herons and 3 nests on the tree they used last year. Also spotted: two bipedal binoculared birders on the bridge.
And yes, that's right: I strapped my poles to the toptube, threw the rollerskis in an ikea bag over my shoulder, and toodled over to Druid Hill Park for a late afternoon rollerski. I've been doing this with poles and rollerblades, but now I have the realdeal skis, and I guess because they make me look even more ridiculous but now somehow more earnestly ridiculous, I'm getting lots of comments. "Great cardio! Two thumbs up! Did you make those yourself? etc.... It is good cardio, I'd give thumbs up back, but I'm busy trying to balance on these skinny things, and sadly no, did not make them myself. Also worth stating that even without rollerskis I seem to attract comment while exercising.
Most notably, I was told once jogging at 62nd and Christian in Philadelphia, well into West Philadelphia proper (not "Left of Center/ University City,") that "the British are coming, and they're going to free the slaves." And you know what? He wasn't wrong, if two centuries late. The War of 1812 conference I've just returned from had a whole paper about British naval officers who went to Georgia and Louisiana to wrassle up maroon community ex-slaves and as many blacks and cherokees as they could find and who were willing to fight the Americans, and then declaring them manumitted and British citizens and enemies of the US. Also, did you know that Hail to the Chief came out of The War of 1812 and was adapted from a poem by that most American of Americans, Sir Walter Scott? Yupp. Or that American generals, who should have been writing dull editorials to American periodicals about civic duty and republican ideals were actually desperate to be Napoleonic heroes in ever-more outlandish fancy dress? You thought the War of 1812 was about overtures and Andrew Jackson and a "second war for independence." Nope: just more proof that at heart we're all Anglophiles and bon amis of the cheese-eating surrender monkeys.
And yes, that's right: I strapped my poles to the toptube, threw the rollerskis in an ikea bag over my shoulder, and toodled over to Druid Hill Park for a late afternoon rollerski. I've been doing this with poles and rollerblades, but now I have the realdeal skis, and I guess because they make me look even more ridiculous but now somehow more earnestly ridiculous, I'm getting lots of comments. "Great cardio! Two thumbs up! Did you make those yourself? etc.... It is good cardio, I'd give thumbs up back, but I'm busy trying to balance on these skinny things, and sadly no, did not make them myself. Also worth stating that even without rollerskis I seem to attract comment while exercising.
Most notably, I was told once jogging at 62nd and Christian in Philadelphia, well into West Philadelphia proper (not "Left of Center/ University City,") that "the British are coming, and they're going to free the slaves." And you know what? He wasn't wrong, if two centuries late. The War of 1812 conference I've just returned from had a whole paper about British naval officers who went to Georgia and Louisiana to wrassle up maroon community ex-slaves and as many blacks and cherokees as they could find and who were willing to fight the Americans, and then declaring them manumitted and British citizens and enemies of the US. Also, did you know that Hail to the Chief came out of The War of 1812 and was adapted from a poem by that most American of Americans, Sir Walter Scott? Yupp. Or that American generals, who should have been writing dull editorials to American periodicals about civic duty and republican ideals were actually desperate to be Napoleonic heroes in ever-more outlandish fancy dress? You thought the War of 1812 was about overtures and Andrew Jackson and a "second war for independence." Nope: just more proof that at heart we're all Anglophiles and bon amis of the cheese-eating surrender monkeys.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Best Lunch ever!
I am eating leftover polenta, herb-crusted pork tenderloin, and broccoli rabe. The pork and polenta are from last night's Sunday Dinner with Cool Neighbors.
On Saturday I used some leftover sour cream curry from Vij's on some new rice and a spice-crusted and roasted chicken breast while Josh was up in Queens eating Szechuan with his family. So far we are 2 for 2 in the crust-roasted meats division. Juicy on the inside, flavor on the outside. Yum!
On Saturday I used some leftover sour cream curry from Vij's on some new rice and a spice-crusted and roasted chicken breast while Josh was up in Queens eating Szechuan with his family. So far we are 2 for 2 in the crust-roasted meats division. Juicy on the inside, flavor on the outside. Yum!
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