Roller Calotypes

Every parent is overjoyed by their children's successes.  I, certainly, feel very proud that since last year I have, not one, but two readers. That said, their reading has caused me certain inconveniences.

Each Advent season, my girls and I forego chocolates to spend 24 evenings trying out things that interest us.
Last year, I found myself the only literate member of our little crafting circle, so I was able to make all the choices without impunity. This year the girls have the added ability to be able to make meaning of what was just gobbletygook under those pretty pictures on Pinterest.  Research plus volition equals trouble.

We made a list. I bought some supplies.  And, we got to getting on.  Or rather, more accurately, we tried to make bouncy balls at home, attempted to make a snow globe that didn't leak, and made terrariums that could more aptly be called sedum genocide. In the end, we came to an important conclusion--the internet lies.  Lies.  All lies.

The challenge about home craft compared to my day job making art with students is that you are often trying things for the first time with your kids.  In the classroom, you always pre-try your project.  There is nothing more horrifying that sitting in a room with 35 high school students when you don't quite know if your paper-making project is going to work. Rather than experience anarchy or embarrassment, you always pre-test your project.

At home, you would basically need to craft by night and parent by day (and take something special to sustain that pace) to be able to try out the project before doing it with your children.  So, instead, you and your children become intrepid explores in the wilds of the internet how-to-verse.  With that in mind, we have started testing things and assessing the success of these little projects.

Our first experiment was with roller callotypes.  I have seen people us sticky/foaming stuff on rolling pins.  But, I am not quite willing to give up a rolling pin.  So, we were on the look out for other things that can roll.  We considered cardboard rolls and lint rollers.  But, in the end, we went with water bottles.  There definitely benefits.  These are a great size for little hands.  And, if you are trying to get an even pattern, you can see through the bottle so that your columns line up.  The challenge with water bottles is that they are light, so you need to apply pressure to make an even print.

And, if you want to see this test in action...

Slushy Shirley Temple or Very Cold Virgin Vortex

As an only child, I didn't have the benefit of comparison.  My behaviors, my reactions, my nature could not be benchmarked against another incarnation of my parents.  And, it is my inexperience perhaps that leads me to notice the many differences between Maybelle and Tigerlily.  Where one is cautious, the other fearless.  Where one is salty, the other sweet--both of behavior and taste.

Today, we were reading Anthony McCall Smith's new series about Precious Ramotswe's Botswana.  When the father of Precious recalls being confronted by a lion, I asked the girls what would they do had they been in Obed's shoes.  Maybelle considered her actions, while Tigerlily yelled out that she would eat him.  I countered, "I think the lion would want to eat you."  Then, she retorted, "I would use my gun, and then make him into meat."  Maybelle remained silent, astutely pondering her course.  Finally she said, "I would run for shelter and barricade myself in."  And, there they are, often one is action, while the other is potential energy.

At other times, there reactions are shockingly similar.  In the throes of the evil chill vortex that has made me think of Jack Frost as a charming, warm hearted fellow, we have been all but agoraphobics.  We are starting to feel like the weather is sentencing us to house arrest. I have moved from mother to camp counselor, filling every moment with something, anything, that might prevent mutiny.  After all, if I had to walk the gang plank, I might freeze before I fell off.  

So, today, when NPR posted about chilling experiments, we got to going.  A little ginger ale, some grenadine, rose water, and of course, insanely, unseasonably, ridiculously cold weather, and you have a drink that both of my girls devoured with equal vigor.   Watch the video at the end of NPR's post for directions. 

Paper Bag Advent Calendar

During the Thanksgiving preparations, I had my mind on many things, most of them not food. I certainly ate.  And, ate.  And ate.  But, I found my mind combatting tensions, stresses, and other banalities.  Finally, my mind began to fixate on lunch bags. 

We had a number of lunch bags around.  At Halloween, we had thrown a crazy bash that rotten many a mouth within a ten mile radius.  In order to encourage the guests to take the sugar home and away from our own children, we had an activity where children could decorate hand lino-printed bags.  It was these leftover white bags that were singing to me.

Cooking has always been a joy for me; its inherent creativity and relationship to conviviality enrich me.  However, the food blogging scene, with its competition and cliquishness, were challenging. I always felt like I was in middle school.  But, in the midst of radio silence, I was certainly cooking.  Though rather than trying to find new combinations and frankly win adoration from unseen, unknown followers, I went back to regulars.  I just cooked for myself and my family.  And, then I also allowed my many interests to live unobserved. 

Making things, in whatever form that takes, continues to enrich me at home.  I continue to write and photograph.  But, I have been doing it for myself. And, this takes me back to the moment, where I was standing at my pantry door, as if eying a conquest.  The bags were just sitting on the shelf.  Lets face it.  They were asking for it. 

A couple hours, a few snips, and a little bondage, and voila, a paper bag Advent Calendar.  The spare appearance began a whirlwhind of further Advent making.  Felt and mason jars were harmed, to be sure.  The children can now certainly count up to 24.  If they are doing anything other than hours in a day of a portion of the month of December, it could be a problem.  But, hey, why put too much pressure on your young?

Chocolate Marmalade Mini-cupcakes

Perspective.

I have been thinking long and hard about this word. Stop a second and actually think about it. Let it roll of your tongue. Try saying it fast so that you swallow the “s.” Then say it a little slower. Roll that “r”, and then ramp up as at the “s.” Then notice that you just spent the last minute not thinking about anything but sounds. You were putting the concept of that word into practice. You just found a moment where everything was in perspective.



I can’t say it is something I myself put into practice with any particular frequency. For the majority of the last two months, I have almost lost sight of a concept so noble as perspective. Work has consumed me, eaten me from the inside, and left me wholly unsatiated. In some meager response to the pressure, I have cocooned myself in even more work hoping the mountain of papers would somehow inure and protect my soul. If only at some moment in that month, I had realized that my soul needs no more protection than perspective. That one day off, one evening away from the labors of the office, would mean nothing more than my own sanity. Or, that taking the snow day to make a small batch of cupcakes with your girls is so much more cathartic and so much more real than anything work has to offer.



But sometimes when you are standing at the edge, you can’t find your bearings. It is when you step back, way back, when you see the wide vista of possibilities ahead, that the lines of perspective become so obvious. You can see your present in your peripheral vision but in front, small but nonetheless there, your future reassuringly beacons you forward.

Chocolate Marmalade Mini-cupcakes:
adapted from a recipe from the Cookie Shop

Combine:
1/4 cup flour
3 T chestnut flour
Pinch baking soda
Pinch baking powder
salt
4 T cocoa power
¼ sugar
2 T brown sugar

Add:
4 tbsp buttermilk
1 egg
Couple drops espresso
½ tsp vanilla extract
4 T olive oil
1 T marmalade

Bake in mini-cupcake tins (buttered and floured) for about 8 minutes. Top with chocolate ganache.

Sweet Potato Whole Grain Waffles

Fake seems to have become a real fact of life these days. Think about it. No one is who they purport to be on facebook or twitter. In fact, on the internet, not being your real self can be a major selling point (ruth bourdain anyone?). And, as food goes, sure there are all the artificial flavors and colors. But, even with the new “real food” movement, think about the pictures. Many of those pictures have been styled, artificially lit, and preened to within an inch of their existence. For years, there have been accusations from psychologists that the plethora of airbrushed, surgically enhanced models in magazines and in video games would make young men unable to appreciate the normal female body. I am starting to think the power of food photography is affecting how I see regular food.




These waffles spring forth from their iron looking a little like a patio tile. Not the pretty Italian-made ones, mind you. More like the ones at the edge of the patio that have crumbled after putting up with one too many cold winters. And, if you aren’t used to whole grains, their bespeckled nature might concern you. And, then there is the sort of unfortunate orange of the dough. The marketer in me might call it terracotta. In other words, these are not the prom queen of waffles; instead, they make the wallflowers of waffles look like Miss America. And, then here is where my brain thinks societal conspiracy. I actually thought they are so ugly I wonder if they taste good. What? Why? My brain somehow placed visual data ahead of smell when it came to food. Who the heck cares what it looks like? I guess some food stylist/ lizard part of my brain. Luckily my husband, who abstains from all types of food porn on principle, is immune from such stupidity. He dug in and quickly attested to their deliciousness.

Recipe:
Whole Grain Sweet potato Waffles
In a blender combine:
250 grams cooked sweet potato
1 buttermilk
2 eggs
2 heaping T oil

Cook 100 grams bob's red mill hot cereal plus 3 T chia seeds with 1 cup almond milk. Cool and add to the wet. Mix.

In a large bowl combine:
145 g whole wheat flour
40 g chestnut flour
15 g flax seeds
10 g oat bran
60 g corn meal
1 T yeast
1 t baking soda
1 t salt
2 T brown sugar
2 T white sugar

Add the wet to the cold. Mix heartily. Let rest in covered in the refrigerator overnight. Bring to room temperature. Add 1/2-1 cup more buttermilk (or almond milk if you wish) to create a batter like consistency. Cook in a waffle iron at medium for about 5-7 minutes. These take longer to cook than other waffles we have made. Ours dings when it thinks they are done. So, we went through three of the regular cycles.

I am submitting this recipe to yeastspotting run by the lovely Wild Yeast.

Egg-less Chocolate cake

There were times when I was pregnant with Belle, when I was alone in the house and all was still outside. I would lie down on the couch hands cupped around my hard belly. I would breathe in and out as purposeful as possible. I would wait and attempt patience. And, I would wonder who this little person would be.

Then with a wallop, Belle would kick with all her might at anything in her way with an impressive lack of rhythm. Then, she would gurgle and swim casually brushing her hands across my belly in broad gestures.


Four years later, I wished I had written down who I thought that little person was. I am fairly certain whatever I thought was nothing like the true Belle. She has a finely attuned design sense. She would have you know, stripes work well with hearts but not polka dots, and not all pinks match. She loves all things dolly—prams, changing tables, and bottles. But at the same time she can build a mean tower. Mostly, she reminds me every day how important observation and curiosity are in feeding the human soul. She smells everything from food to scarves. She wonders about clouds, snow, heaven and God.

Every day is an investigation for her. Dessert is one of her particular specialties. Why is it that some cakes aren’t chocolate? Why is it that some cakes are deficient in frosting? Why are some cakes only one layer?

Belle’s love of chocolate is something that I anticipated bodily during pregnancy. I was not much of a sweet person until Belle resided within me. During my pregnancy, I would fanaticize about decadent chocolate cupcakes. Now, Belle is a woman who relishes the idea of visiting her grandparents, in the magical land of Cincinnati, where cupcakes are alright for breakfast.

This summer we experimented with the ideal chocolate cake. While I have more experience tasting chocolate cake, I think Belle has a natural insight. We make an ideal team. We tasted cakes. I talked, perhaps idly, about the required a balance between sweetness and bitterness; moistness and denseness. Though, Belle really summed it up, “it has to be super chocolate and good.”



Our first try at this cake was one that was basically a large brownie. When topped with cocoa butter cream, Belle was very satisfied.

When birthday time came around yesterday, I turned to this cake. Parenting is something that is harder when you pay attention to what you are doing. I probably should have just made the cake that she liked, but instead I decided to increase the buttermilk so that I would have a moister cake-like result. After all, sometimes a mother has to make decisions for their children.

I also decided to use three frostings, because sometimes a mother gets to break the rules. First I separated the two layers with marshmallow butter cream , added a crumb coat and then some with vanilla butter cream, and then frosted with cocoa-cream cheese butter cream. The result was a cake that would make your dentist call you to set up an appointment.


As we cut the cake, I waited to hear her observations. She sat down to her slice with almost religious fervor. She eschewed the paper napkin so that she might lick the frosting from her fingers. She then requested seconds and thirds (though both requests were denied.) And, then she played.

In the last four years, one of the few things I have learned about parenting is that often it is the quiet off-minutes, when socks are being pulled up or blocks being picked up that your children share. Today, when the house was quiet, and Belle and I were cleaning up her room, she said to me, “There was much more frosting on that cake. I am glad.”




Recipe:
Chocolate Cake:
Cream together:
4 oz cream cheese, softened
4 T butter, softened
1 3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar

In the microwave, melt 1/4 cup chocolate chips (or a little more)

Into the bowl of the stand mixer, add:
1 cup buttermilk
1 T instant coffee granules
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tsp cider vinger
melted chocolate chips

In a bowl, combine:
1 3/4 cup flour
3/4 cup cocoa
1 1/2 t baking powder
1 1/2 t baking soda
1 tsp salt

Add dry ingredients to wet, in 1/2 cup intervals, blending as you go.

Bake in 2-9 inch pans that have been greased and floured (or cocoaed) at 350 for 25-30 minutes.

Frostings:
I got a little mystical/ alchemistry-like with the frostings, so no recipes here…all I can say is that for the cream cheese frosting, I used 4 oz butter (soften), 4 oz cream cheese (softened), splash of coffee, and then added cocoa and powdered sugar with wild abandon. The others were a little of a blur.

Bad Weather Cupcakes

It’s a snow day. Every snow day my mother in law made a particular sugar laden cake. Why would a woman with 4 kids would want to hype up her children when they were trapped at home? Well, at least here, have devoured the cupcakes, danced a jig, and tore up the house, they settled into a nice nap. Maybe she was onto something.

Snow day Cupcakes
My mother in laws recipe with my changes in parentheses
1.5 cups bisquick (or 1.5 cups flour, 1 1/2tsp Baking Powder, 1/2tsp Salt)
2/3 cup milk (or eggnog)
½ cup sugar, feel free to be heavy handed
2 egg whites
2 T oil (plus 1 T more oil)
1 tsp vanilla

Topping
1/3 cup brown sugar
2 T chopped nuts (optional)
1 T butter
1 T milk

Beat all the cupcake ingredients at low for 30 seconds. Then beat at medium for 1 minute. Spoon into lined cupcake tins. Bake at 350 for 18-20 minutes.

Mix all the topping ingredients. Top the warm cupcakes. Broil for 2 minutes with the cake 3 inches from the coil.

Gluten Free Carrot Candied Orange Madeleines

Someone once told me, “You know, writing is like riding a horse.” They stopped there. Now, I am starting to wonder. Was it because if you rode once you can ride again and similarly if you strung together sentences before you will again? Or was it because riding a horse, and writing similarly, takes practice but the practice is well worth it? Or was it because riding a horse, and writing as well, can be a terrible pain in the behind?

I would like to believe the answer to all three of those questions is yes. I am starting to believe most things take practice and are often a pain, though once learned are so familiar they can never be forgotten.

After a frustrating week when the skies have chosen to offer inclemency of some kind, I find myself itching to have a quiet minute in the kitchen. I don’t mean event-cooking or dinner making. I mean quiet mixing chopping joy; the kind of cooking where you don’t need to look up the recipe or pull out a scale. You just drop that measuring cup into the flour, feel the smoothness of the ingredient, and then satisfied sweep the knife over the cup. Chopping, whisking, moving. Then you bite into your creation and remember, hey, I can cook. Maybe cooking is like writing—oh, I mean like riding a horse.



Recipe:
Gluten Free Carrot Candied Orange Madeleines
Based on a recipe by Seattle Local Food
Melt ½ a stick of butter. Let brown. Strain and cool.

In a large bowl, beat together:
4 eggs
1 tsp vanilla

Add:
¼ cup grated carrots
2 T candied orange peels, chopped
1 T candied ginger, chopped (optional)

In a separate bowl, mix together:
½ cup GF mix
½ tsp baking powder
¼ tsp xantham gum
1 tsp ginger powder
½ tsp Chinese 5 spice
½ tsp cinnamon
2 T brown sugar

Mix dry into wet. Add butter.

Let sit for 5 minutes. And then pour batter (it is wet) into greased Madeleine pans. Bake 8 minutes at 350. This makes about 60 mini-madeleines.

Dry curry Brussels Sprouts

Knock knock. Let me be your friendly Brussels sprout evangelist. If you don’t like the sprouts, I would suggest your taste buds have been lied to—or even worse those sprouts have been tortured. Here is a handy guide, if your Brussels sprouts have been cooked until they are yellow, sulphuric or soggy, then pass them right on. If they are firm, green, lovely, pleasing to the eye and nose then grab yourself a double helping. For a couple years, I made vadouvon Brussels sprouts, this year I went with a mustard dry curry.

Recipe:
Dry curry Brussels Sprouts

Steam:
1 lb Brussels sprouts
½ lb tiny potatoes

In a skillet or wok, add:
2 T oil
1 t turmeric
1 t black mustard seeds
1/2 t cumin powder

Once the spices brown slightly, add:
1.5 T tomato paste
1.5 T whole grain mustard
2 small onions sliced in thin rings
Pinch sugar
Salt
1 T ginger
1.5 T garlic

Let onions caramelize. Once onions have browned, add Brussels sprouts and potatoes. Let brown slightly. Then add ½ cup water or coconut milk. Simmer.

In a separate skillet, dry fry a handful of tomatoes.

Add the browned, wilted tomatoes to the brussel sprouts. Serve warm.

The gang at Guerilla Gourmet were kind enough to include me as the Ohio rep for their holiday round up. And, I rarely turn down the chance to represent the glory of Ohio produce. Go over and check out the rest of the states.

Cheddar Cheese Apple Mini Pies

Belle seems to dislike the number 14. I am not quite sure what it did to her. She is plenty enamored with 4. And, that 10 is a good round number is something upon which we can all agree. But, 14 is turning into a bit of a bother. Fifteen through twenty are really a breeze. And, anything up to 13 are so easy they aren’t worth discussing.

What does a mother do? Well, honestly, first there is a little worry. If you don’t, more power to you. Worry, then admitting to it, and then moving on is what makes me human (that and a couple of other things including the fact that I bore children.) The next step for some of my parenting woes usually springs from some strange “call in the troops” mentality. Strange because I barely remember what ROTC stands for and look terrible in khaki; but more importantly because metaphorically screaming “charge” is really the worst sentiment when it comes to dealing with your children. In this case, I attacked with colorful books and rote memorization. This tact was actually quite fruitful—it saved me from my gung-ho tendencies for a little while. Belle must have been relieved when I gave the whole number thing a rest. For a little while I suggested she just count to ten, and then go back to one. I went back to being my less crazy self.

Life ramped up. I made 300 mini-pies for a wedding reception. When we stood at the counter packing up my cheddar cheese apple pies, my Belle told me “Mommy, you already have four-teen pies in the box. Can I eat one?”

“Sure,” I said, in a voice that was just below a cheer.

“Well, now that I put another pie in the box, can you count them?” I asked.

“Now I only get to fourteen.”


for the apple cheddar pie recipe go to epicurious--but add chinese 5 spice, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ground star anise

Brains or Char Siu Bao

(For the recipe for the dough, go to She Simmers. Filled with soy, ginger, veggies and turkey.)

Ode to the End of Summer Market

There is that moment when the warm of summer begins to be tinged slightly with an edge of crispness. Walking down the sidewalk, you start to question if you saw that right. Wait was there one jaunty yellow leaf peaking out of a fully green tree. No, it’s still summer, you reassure yourself. Summer hasn’t just passed you by, you promise yourself. Fall is well in the distance, you start thinking. After all, your toes are freely traveling in flip flops; your skin is still tan; the rain still smells warm. You forget about this whole thing and keep walking. Then crunch, a brown leaf sticks to underside of your summer shoes. Fall is arriving—in the active tense. It’s a janus moment, fall at the front, summer at your back.







At the market, the last of the summer melons sit almost anachronistically beside winter squash. Tomatoes, those summer jewels, elicit in you equal parts joy for the wealth of summer and melancholy for the bareness of winter. You caress the soft, satiny skin; enjoying it summer bareness. You walk down the farmer’s market allee surveying not just the wares, but the end of the season, the joy of the moment. You look into the face of the farmer’s that you have come to count on over the summer (over the years.) You linger over the radishes reveling in this Easter-bonnet happiness. You chew on beans, raw and redolent of the earth. Then you spend a few minutes coveting, fondling the heirloom pumpkin, tapping on its hard skin you mindlessly pull at your cardigan. As you leave the market, you revel in the mental snapshots of summer, of the farmers, of the food, that you have preserved to hold you through until spring.







Standing in your kitchen, you hesitate over the vegetables. After all, when that last tomato is gone, summer is too. Steeled by anticipation and a little guilt about wasting such loveliness, you set to. You slice into the flesh of a squash, and smell in its fall earthiness. You tear into basil and remember the laughter of running through wet grass. You try to do those farmer’s proud, showcase the truth of those vegetables. Your guests bite into your food and feel the changing of the season.

Menu in Celebration of My Farmer's Market at the Change of the Season:

Rice, miso-lemongrass corn chowder, and red pepper sashimi


Raw tomato raviolo with Almond Cheese in broth


Broiled Hungarian finger food with pickled radishes, pickled beets and crisp daikon



Miso fried mushrooms


5-spice, star anise infused grilled eggplant into red miso garlic sauce






Soft tofu in genmatch tea


Vegan Cincinnati chili of cranberry beans and kidney beans on buckwheat noodles


All-american potato salad with homemade bread and butter pickles


Quick pickled homegrown carrots, celery, radishes and spicy pickled tomatoes




Apple sauce infused sweet tapioca with almond brittle


Kabocha “pie” filled homemade mocha


Matcha