What I Learned From NaBloPoMo (And Pistachio Rosewater Ice Cream)

Well, it's been quite an adventure. It may not have been the best month to do commit to posting every day, given that I spent the first few days of July away from the internet, and then was stricken down by the Bubonic Plague for a few days in the middle, but despite that, I managed to crank out a post during the rest of the days in July. I'm proud of myself.

And because it's almost the season for those "What I Did This Summer" essays (remember those? ugh...), here is my version of the genre ... a top ten What I Learned From NaBloPoMo:

1. I have more versatility as a writer than I thought I did. More than once since the inception of this blog I have banged my head against a virtual wall and talked myself into believing I have nothing to say, or convinced myself that I could only write about food or yoga or parenting. I've gone weeks (well, maybe no more than a week) without posting. But apparently, if I read enough elsewhere, I can come up with other things to talk about, and -- this was the biggest surprise to me -- people actually read what I've written and think it's worth commenting on, even if it's NOT about food or yoga or parenting. Either I'm better at this than I thought, or I have some very kind followers. Well, maybe a little of both.
2. I don't have to post food every time I write. It's worked for me in the past, but it's not the end of the world if I change that formula every once in a while. People won't instantly stop reading my posts. And I may actually acquire new readers who are interested in the other things I write about. I may stretch my brain a little bit by trying something new.
3. If you want to write, something has to give. Writing consistently requires reading, which sucks up time. And then writing itself requires more time, to draft, to edit. This month, I did practically zero hours in my consulting job. Which means that I gave up potential pay, small as it may have been, to do this project. There are a limited number of hours in the day, and giving up sleep will not get you more time to write. You need to decide what you are willing to sacrifice, if you're going to write.
4. Sometimes you will write crap. There are posts I've done this month that I'm not particularly proud of. There are also posts that I think were pretty damn fabulous, if I do say so myself. There was probably more crap than fabulousness, but that's OK with me. Mostly, I had to write the crap in order to keep writing, and get to the good stuff.

5. Which brings me to this: writing begets writing. If you sit down and write, you will write more. 'Nuff said.
6. On the flip side: FB is a time suck. It is all too easy to scroll through pages of status updates looking for something interesting to spark your writing muse. You are probably safer going to read the NYTimes or the Huffington Post or the BBC or ... well, practically anything else.
   
7. A list of prompts doesn't guarantee that you'll be able to write. You still have to come up with your take on the prompt, and sometimes a prompt simply won't resonate with you in a way that opens the floodgates to language. Writing prompts do, however, serve as a very useful guilt-inducing tool, especially if you know and respect the person who drafted the list.
8. On a related note: writing in community makes a difference. Even if no one is writing about what you're writing about, and even if you're not really committing to reading or commenting on each others' work. Just knowing that you are supposed to produce for other writers, who are also producing something regularly, induces just enough stress that you may get off your duff and do it. And if you surround yourself by people who are writing intelligent, thoughtful things, you are also more likely to write intelligent, thoughtful things.
   
   
9. If you are blogging often, and your writing invites comments from said community, you should build in time to respond to comments. See #2. Responding to comments creates better conversation, but it can feel overwhelming, especially if you're also reading and commenting on other blogs, as you really ought to do in order to be a good bloggy citizen.
10. Committing to a writing project makes a difference. Having a goal, even if it's not a very lofty goal (post something every day! even if it's about your toenails!), can make you feel like a writer, and act like a writer. And thus? BE a writer.

SO: thank you, Kathy, for talking me into this ... thanks, jjiraffe and Kristin, for committing along with us ... congratulations to everyone who participated and finished (even if you didn't post every day) ... and thank you to my readers and commenters, who helped move me forward!  Cheers!  I'm saluting you all in Half Baked style: a bouquet of roses, for dessert.

There will be penance in August for the days I missed in July, because I was raised Catholic and that's how I roll, even if I am UU now, but you can sit back, relax, and enjoy the ice cream. (And thanks for the great flavor suggestions ... I had the ingredients for this on hand today, but up next: cardamom, peach, sweet potato, and much more!)

Pistachio Rosewater Ice Cream

1/2 c. pistachios, chopped and roasted or toasted
2 c. whole milk
1 T. plus 1 t. cornstarch
1 1/4 c. heavy cream
scant 2/3 c. sugar
1 1/2 T. light corn syrup
1 T. + 1 t. rosewater
1 1/2 oz. (3 T.) cream cheese
1/8 t. kosher salt

Fill a large bowl with ice water. In a small bowl, mix 2 tablespoons of the milk with the cornstarch. In another large bowl, whisk the cream cheese until smooth.

In a large saucepan, combine the remaining milk with the heavy cream, sugar, corn syrup, pistachios, and rosewater. Bring the milk mixture to a boil and cook over moderate heat until the sugar dissolves and the nuts flavor the milk, about 4 minutes. Strain through a sieve to remove the nuts and set the nuts aside. Return the milk mixture to the saucepan, and off the heat, gradually whisk in the cornstarch mixture. Return to a boil and cook over moderately high heat until the mixture is slightly thickened, about 1 minute.

Gradually whisk the hot milk mixture into the cream cheese until smooth. Whisk in the salt. Set the bowl in the ice water bath and let stand, stirring occasionally, until cold, about 20 minutes.

Strain the ice cream base into an ice cream maker and freeze according to the manufacturer's instructions, adding the nuts during the last five minutes of freezing/processing. Pack the ice cream into a plastic container.

Press a sheet of plastic wrap directly onto the surface of the ice cream and close with an airtight lid. Freeze until firm, about 4 hours.

Keeping the Old: Perfect Moment Mondays

I am a terrible correspondent.  You'd think, with all of the email that I send, and all of the time I spent on the evil timesuck FB, I'd keep in better touch with friends.  But the reality, of course, is that electronic communication is simply not a substitute for the kinds of conversations you have in the dark, or the laughter and tears that are spilled over coffee, or the times when you sit together with someone and say nothing at all.

Back in high school, I had three good friends.  One of them is now a FB presence; we grew apart, because we really had nothing in common any more, and though she still reaches out once in a while, I don't tend to initiate contact with her.  One of them I've lost touch with entirely, though her sister lives in my town, and I see her posts on her sister's FB page, so I have some peripheral sense of what's happening in her life.  The third lives about 40 minutes away, and has a son two years old than mine.  We seem to cycle in and out of contact every few years, getting together and then drifting apart.  Of the three, she was the one who shared my values, my convictions, my sense of humor, and though she too has changed since high school (really, who hasn't), she's the person with whom I can still pick up a conversation where we left off, and still feel like there's something to say.

It had been about two and a half years since I'd seen her last.  I think I'd lost only one pregnancy when I saw her.  We lost touch for the usual reasons: busy schedules, the tour of birthday parties and swim lessons -- basically, life got in the way.  But I got a text message from her earlier this year, and my heart leapt.  It had been too long.

Finally, this weekend, we met for coffee.  It was one of the few beautiful days we'd had in a while: not too hot, not raining.  We get our coffee and walked, finding a bench in the shade.  And we talked nonstop for over an hour, about kids, about changes in jobs, about changes in careers, about loss, about fear, about hope.  And then--and perhaps this is most noticeable because she is hands down the most talkative person I know--there were spaces of silence, when the breeze would blow, and the sky would brighten overhead, and we'd sip our drinks, and appreciate just being where we were, together.

In a few days, I'm going to BlogHer.  I'm looking forward to meeting in person, for the first time, some of the people with whom I've developed friendships online over the past two and a half years.  (*And yes, I'm still a little bit nervous, because despite my fabulous online personality, it takes me a little while to warm up in person.  I dread being left on the periphery of conversation, though, so please come talk to me if you see me.)  I'm going with the intention of learning about writing and about myself, becoming inspired, and making new friends, with whom--despite the fact that we are women of words--I can sit and sometimes say nothing, and be understood.  Because really, in an era of information overload, sometimes the silence, together, is really what you need.

Perfect Iced Coffee

The Pioneer Woman has a fabulous recipe for iced coffee.  I'm not going to reprint it here, because she has better pictures than I could ever hope for, but I'll give you the link.  Now you have no excuse: invite that friend whom you haven't seen in too long to come for a tall cool drink.

Small Packages: Vanilla Ice Cream

My son is obsessed with campers.  He points them out on the road, gawking at them, and often draws them, narrating their parts in great detail for whoever will listen.  He says he likes the idea of being able to take everything you need with you wherever you go.  And I agree with him: in a time when the size of the average U.S. home has practically doubled since the 1950s, standing at around 2,400 feet, it's sort of refreshing to think about living with just what you need.  A few weeks ago, I showed him pictures and a video about the Tiny House Movement, and it definitely made an impression; he's still talking about it.

The Tiny House Movement itself is nothing new, really, but it caught the public's attention back in 2006 when Dee Williams got herself featured in Time Magazine. Her 84 square foot house on wheels has a composting toilet, no shower, and space for only 300 items.  It costs her $8 per month to live there, for heating.

Tiny Houses aren't for everyone.  You can't really, for example, have a family in a house that's 84 square feet, at least not unless the weather is pretty good year round.  We can't all live in someone else's back yard.  But I do like what Williams says about living intentionally.  I suspect at some point you start to realize just what that old saying means, that good things come in small packages.

I don't have a Tiny House.  I will probably never have a Tiny House.  And that's OK with me.  In fact, I just bought something entirely frivolous that will eat up space in my kitchen cabinet, with a gift certificate that has been burning a hole in my pocket since I baked cakes for our friends' wedding last summer (thank you, M and H!).  Said new kitchen item would never come with me if I had to downsize, and it would not be among the things I'd put in my son's camper.  BUT ... tasting the first ice cream from our new ice cream maker reminded me that I didn't need to eat an entire pint in order to appreciate the treat, that good things often do come in small packages.  Or, in this case, bowls.

(So, dear readers ... what flavor to try next?  Rosewater cardamom pistachio?  A spicy chili cinnamon?  Or ... for Emily ... Chubby Hubby?  Blogger ice cream social at my house.  And: what good things have come in small packages for you?)

See those specks?  That's real vanilla bean, folks.

Vanilla Ice Cream
Jeni Britton Bauer is an artisan ice cream maker in Ohio.  Her ice cream cookbook, which I covet, debuted last summer, and I confess I checked it out of the library and salivated over the possibilities when S. was on his last business trip and couldn't talk me out of my madness.  This is her vanilla take on her foolproof standard base.  I am pretty sure that you could use less sugar, with equally good results, but haven't yet been brave enough to try.

2 c. whole milk
1 T. plus 1 t. cornstarch
1 1/2 oz. (3 T.) cream cheese
1 1/4 c. heavy cream
2/3 c. sugar
1 1/2 T. light corn syrup
1 vanilla bean, split, seeds scraped
1/8 t. kosher salt


Fill a large bowl with ice water. In a small bowl, mix 2 tablespoons of the milk with the cornstarch. In another large bowl, whisk the cream cheese until smooth.

In a large saucepan, combine the remaining milk with the heavy cream, sugar, corn syrup and vanilla bean and seeds. Bring the milk mixture to a boil and cook over moderate heat until the sugar dissolves and the vanilla flavors the milk, about 4 minutes. Off the heat, gradually whisk in the cornstarch mixture. Return to a boil and cook over moderately high heat until the mixture is slightly thickened, about 1 minute.

Gradually whisk the hot milk mixture into the cream cheese until smooth. Whisk in the salt. Set the bowl in the ice water bath and let stand, stirring occasionally, until cold, about 20 minutes.

Strain the ice cream base into an ice cream maker and freeze according to the manufacturer's instructions. Pack the ice cream into a plastic container.

Press a sheet of plastic wrap directly onto the surface of the ice cream and close with an airtight lid. Freeze the vanilla ice cream until firm, about 4 hours.

Giving, and Giving Back: Baba Ganouj

Sometimes I think I should have been born a Libra.  I have a tendency to mentally weigh gifts--both tangible and intangible--I've been given, and worry that perhaps I'm not giving back enough to measure up to what I've gotten.  (There is a less attractive flip side to this, that sometimes I stew over giving a great deal to someone who never seems to give back to me ... which makes me feel like a much more mercenary and much less generous person than I hope I am, even if all I hope for, most times, is appreciation.)

We have friends who have, over the past few years, generously given us enough hand-me-downs for the kids that we haven't really had to buy very much clothing.  This is a twofold blessing, of course, because not only have we saved the money we would have spent on clothes, but we've saved the sanity I would have spent on clothes shopping, which you now know is one of those activities that inspires dread in my heart.

But every time I put a load of new hand-me-downs into the laundry, and sort them into bins and closets, realizing that I will never be able to give clothes back to these people, because their children are older and larger than mine, I worry that maybe it looks like I'm taking the gift for granted. I try to give well-chosen birthday gifts, or find other ways to "compensate," but I never feel like it's enough.  The hand-me-downs often get another life beyond our house, but that doesn't seem like it's giving "back" either ... it's more along the lines of paying it forward.

My CSA is another good example of the generous giver.  Between winning our share this year, and enjoying the treats that are always waiting for me when I go to pick up our share, and feeling strangely cared for by the people who grow my food, I find myself fretting about the unequal benefit.  I'd thought about offering up social media services for them at some point, but it turns out that they're actually really good at it, and I could probably learn some lessons from them.  Event planning?  They have that covered, too.  Volunteering on the farm?  Would be ideal, but not with a squirmy one year old on my back.

It could be that I'm just not good at receiving gifts.  In fact, I'm sure that part of it is certainly that I'm just not good at receiving gifts.

I've been thinking about a similar equation in blogging, lately, too.  The giving and the taking.  The producing and consuming.  There are lots of variations on this, of course.  For example: there are some people who read, but never comment (please understand, my intention is not to inspire guilt here, but really just to pose a question).  Are we obligated to "give back" as consumers of blogs, either in the form of comments or in the form of our own blog posts, contributing to the conversation?  It's funny; I would never think to ask this question in relation to a reader and a writer offline, but somehow, online, because it's possible to give back, simply consuming without connecting feels irresponsible to me, somehow.  There are bloggers who take without giving, too, of course ... who take comments without responding to comments, or who collect commenters but never seek out new blogs.  Are bloggers who don't "give back" doing the blogging world a disservice?  Or is their writing contribution enough?

Are you good at receiving gifts?  Or do you have a mental scale, too, for better or worse?  And do you think that scale applies, in any way, to blogging?

This week my farm made Baba Ganouj for us.  In case you've never had it: it's a popular Middle-Eastern mezza dip made from eggplant and tahini., with a smooth, creamy texture and a slightly smoky taste. It's traditionally served with pita bread (toasted or fresh), but you could also serve it as a dip with cut fresh vegetables, potato chips, or tortilla chips.

Baba Ganouj

1 large eggplant
2 cloves garlic
1/4 c.  lemon juice (depending on taste)
1/4 c. tahini
1 teaspoon salt
3 teaspoons olive oil

Garnish
2 teaspoons olive oil
2 Tablespoon chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

Preheat oven to 400.  Prick the eggplant all over with a fork and lie it in a baking tray lined with foil.  Bake, turning every 15 minutes.  One pound of eggplants will take about an hour.  They should flatten and turn very soft.  Allow to cool for 20 minutes. Cut open eggplant and scoop out the flesh into colander and allow to drain for 10 minutes. Removing the excess liquid helps to eliminate a bitter flavor.

Place eggplant flesh in a medium bowl. Add remaining ingredients and mash together. You can also use a food processor instead of by hand. Pulse for about 2 minutes.

Place in serving bowl and top with lemon juice and olive oil. Add other garnishes according to taste.  Or, if you're like me and you're in a hurry, skip that step entirely.

Serve with warm or toasted pita or flatbread. Enjoy!

And the Livin' Is Easy: Tomato Tart

About mid-way through the summer, I get really sick of cooking.  Unfortunately, this always coincides more or less with tomato season, during which a CSA member must cook early and often, or face rotten tomatoes.  I've never really canned food, partly because I have an inexplicable fear of the process, and partly because canned things remind me of my mother's basement, which, unlike our basement or pantry, is well-stocked for the next nuclear fallout, and covered in a quarter-inch-thick layer of dust.

Luckily, tomatoes are often best when they're not cooked, so we end to eat lots of tomato and cream cheese sandwiches, and tomato salads.

There's also something like this, which is ridiculously easy and comes together in less than half an hour, even though it looks like you labored over it.  If you didn't want to be a cheater, you could make your own puff pastry, or use home-made pizza dough.  But who wants to do that?

What are your favorite ways to use fresh tomatoes from your garden or farm?

Fancy Tomato Tart

tomatoes, 5-6, sliced about 1/4" thick and laid on paper towels to dry a bit
cherry tomatoes, 6-7, halved, for color
fresh basil, about 6 leaves, cut in chiffonade
fresh parmesan, grated, about 1/2 c.
puff pastry, 1 sheet, thawed! (takes about 40 minutes)

Preheat oven to 400F.  On a sheet of parchment, roll out puff pastry a bit so that it's slightly larger than it was when you unfolded it.  Bake pastry for about 15-18 minutes or until golden brown and puffed.

Remove from oven and sprinkle with a small amount of the grated cheese.  Lay tomatoes in a decorative pattern on top of the pastry, pressing slightly so they don't fall off.  Top with more cheese and fresh basil.

Summer Vegetable Soup

N. has taken to playing in the kitchen while I work there, making meals or washing.  Sometimes she simply empties cupboards, and often she demands to be up in my arms so she can "SEE?  SEE?  SEE?" but lately, she's also been "cooking."  When I ask her what she's making, she usually says, simply, "soup."

I'm not sure how she got the idea to make soup, since she's only really started talking this summer, and there hasn't been a whole lot of soup-making around here, what with the temperatures in the triple digits and all (yes, I know one can make cold soups; we tend not to).  Still, it's nice to be "fed" by my toddler.  I love it when kids "make soup," because they become so creative with the ingredients.  "BOK-key?" N. tells me.  "BEEEEn?" and then: "PAPAYAYAYA?"

Despite the record heat and humidity in these parts, I could have used a little comfort soup today.  The I-bug was still at home sick and will likely be home tomorrow, too; I had a job interview; and I am developing a complex about the fact that I really only have one pair of shoes--sandals!--to wear to BlogHer.  (My shoe-buying phobia is even worse than my clothes-shopping phobia. And I happen to really like wearing my one pair of sandals.)

If I did make soup, it would be something along the lines of the food we ate at a little B&B in Nominigue (now under different ownership, I believe) when we stopped there for a night during a bike trip through the Laurentians in Canada.  I've been thinking about our host Guillaume a lot lately as I've been using up CSA produce; the meals he made us were filled with produce and herbs from his garden, and inspired, he told us, by his grandmother.  His chickpea salad, which I tried to recreate the other day with some chickpeas, lemon juice, fresh ground pepper, and fresh herbs, practically leapt into my mouth.  I don't remember if he made tomato salad, but if he did, it would have been like the tomato, balsalmic vinegar, and fresh Parmesan dish I threw together to go with the chick peas. It's funny, but I think that those simple meals were some of the best meals I've ever eaten, anywhere.

Here's to you, Guillaume.  I hope you're still making wanderers feel at home.

French Vegetable Soup
adapted from Twelve Months of Monastery Soups
This is supposed to be a spring vegetable soup, but it could also work well with some of the summer produce arriving in a CSA share or at your local northern hemisphere farmer's market now (onions, potatoes, tomatoes, beans).


3 T. butter
2 c. cauliflower
1 c. fresh peas (or beans)
1 c. chopped spinach (or chard or kale)
2 carrots, sliced
2 onions or leeks
1 c. chopped celeriac (you could also use turnips or potatoes)
2 quarts water
1 c. sherry or white wine
2 bouillon cubes
2 sliced tomatoes, peeled and chopped
pinch mixed herbs
salt and pepper to taste

Melt the butter in a soup pot and saute the vegetables (except for the tomatoes) for 1-2 minutes.

Add the water, sherry, bouillon cubes, tomatoes, herbs, salt, and pepper.  Cook the soup slowly, covered, over medium-low heat for about 1 hours.  Stir occasionally and add more water if necessary.  Let soup sit for 10 minutes.

When ready to serve, add more fresh finely chopped herbs.

Do-Overs

Remember, when you were a kid, how you demanded a do-over when something didn't quite work out as you'd wanted it to?

Yesterday I.'s camp called, just as I was about to feed N. lunch.  It was the camp nurse; apparently I. wasn't feeling well, his stomach hurt, he was hunched over a bucket.  She surmised that it was the heat (it was 93 degrees and about nine billion percent humidity), but suggested I come pick him up and give him a day at home.  So I did.  Of course, S. is away on business.  Because that's when my kids get sick: when it's a federal holiday, or when S. is away.

This morning, I. was dragging his feet about going to camp.  He ate his breakfast, took his usual hour to get dressed, made pleasant conversation.  Then he complained about having a headache.  Which went away.  Then a stomachache.  Which he claimed was better by the time we had to leave.  I took his temperature, and it was 99.  Or 100.  Or 98.9, depending on which time I swiped the thermometer across his head.  Yay for temporal thermometer consistency.  Not.

I hemmed and hawed.  He looked a little under the weather.  But I wanted him to go to camp.  I knew that he'd be bored at home, and terrorize his sister.  I knew he wouldn't nap.  Or lie down.  Or do anything else that would potentially make him better.  I told him that I would be happy to have him stay home if he was really sick.  But that if he wasn't really sick, this would not work.  Then I worried I was guilting him, and asked him if felt OK, for the eleventieth time.  He assured me yes, yes, he was fine.  So, conscience nagging at me, I packed him in the car, and sped up the highway to camp.

And of course, the call came just as I'd put N. down for a noon nap, just as she had gone to sleep.  He'd thrown up all over his group's clubhouse.  Would I come pick him up?

Sigh.  I wished I could do the morning over.  Did I ignore his symptoms because I wanted him to go to camp?  Because it's a little harder to manage alone when the two of them are home all day, when they have such different needs?  Why didn't I listen to my nagging conscience?

    .............

Yesterday, I wrote a post about the Chick-Fil-A controversy.  I weighed my words very carefully, trying to said only what I meant.  I posted, and waited.  JeCaThRe commented, correcting me: that it sounded as if I thought all Christians denounced gay marriage, and that used the words "Biblically sanctioned" for marriage, when in reality, the Bible says all sorts of things about concubines and polygamy.  [Edited later to add: let me be clear, I happen to really *like* JeCaThRe, and respect her observations about language ... this story may have turned out differently if it was someone else.]

I fretted, and went back to edit my post.  Do-overs may not be possible in real life, but it's easy enough to edit something online (discounting cached copies, of course).  I know that not all Christians--not even all Baptists are anti-gay marriage.  I also know that the Bible is full of complication.  I wanted to make sure I didn't give the wrong impression about my beliefs.  I worried a little about whether editing it was OK, but decided to go through with it anyway, because the edits weren't substantial (just clarifying, and I included a link to Cathy's statement).  But it nagged at me anyway.

JeCaThRe deleted her comment, which no longer really applied to my post. One of the things she wrote, which I really wanted to preserve, was this: "We'd do better seeking out companies that match our ethics than trying to play "gotcha" with the companies that don't."  It's a good point.  And it's an approach that's a lot more manageable than combing through the records of companies to find out where they're spending their profits.

But having her delete her comment made me realize I was having second thoughts about do-overs in blogging, especially given my own ruminations lately about truth in our writing.

SO: What do you think?  Is it acceptable to edit a blog post to more properly express what you meant in the first place?  Or do you need to stand by what you originally wrote, even if it's not quite what you meant?  If so, do you need to make disclaimers?  Where?  How?  Is there a certain amount of time in which edits are OK?