tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61377314390403343772024-02-19T00:15:54.022-05:00Tilted GlassFamily WanderingsGlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.comBlogger116125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-67272915652225646522011-06-12T22:09:00.004-04:002011-06-12T22:26:43.307-04:00No, I don't drink coffee<span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial Narrow','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'font-family:'Times New Roman';" >I sort of like coffee now. Before my sister starts to do a dance in the barista area of her favorite independent coffee shop, I need to explain. I still don't drink coffee. I find the taste of coffee bitter. Or, I should say, I now find<br />the taste of coffee by itself bitter. This week, I have learned something new - coffee WITH quality chocolate wrapped in something else (like a coffeecake, perhaps) doesn't taste bitter. In fact, it tastes amazing. </span><br /><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial Narrow','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'font-family:'Times New Roman';" >I can't explain why I didn't figure this out earlier. I know that everyone and their neighbor's neighbor has discovered the world of dressed-up coffee drinks with shots of flavorings, foams, steamed milks purveyed by Starbucks and kin. But, I don't drink coffee. (Do you sense my incredulity?)</span><br /><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial Narrow','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'font-family:'Times New Roman';" >My first exploration of coffee in baking this week began with a kids' sleepover. The usually demanded breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes spongy with syrup and ignored fruit made me nauseous. The kids don't mind repetition,<br />but it makes me feel tired. So, while the charming-while-asleep room of girls slumbered on, I thumbed through one of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mollie-Katzens-Sunlight-Classic-Cooking/dp/0786862696/ref=sr_1_11?ie=UTF8&qid=1307931773&sr=8-11">my favorite all-things-before dinner brunch cookbooks </a>and found a coffeecake with chocolate chips. (Chocolate chips make almost anything palatable to children ages 2 to 22.) It wasn't just chocolate <span class="GramE">chips,</span> it was chocolate coffee cake with chocolate chips. No, it was mocha chocolate coffee cake with chocolate chips. <span class="GramE">Mocha?</span> That's java code word for coffee and chocolate, right?</span><br /><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial Narrow','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'font-family:'Times New Roman';" >The kids were initially suspicious of the coffeecake, but after the first bites, I took the silence in the dining room to indicate approval. Score one! With sleepovers, you learn that not only are your <span class="GramE">kids</span> <s>ridiculous in their rejections of all things orange or green or smelly or fishy or simply unusual because they have never heard of it in their short lives </s>palate-challenged, but so are other people's children. The coffeecake, baked in a <span class="SpellE">bundt</span> pan I've owned for 21 years and bought at an honest-to-<span class="SpellE">betsy</span> yard sale in New Hampshire when first assembling my (then tiny) newly married kitchen, was moist, with good volume and a not-too-dark not-too-milky coffee chocolate flavor that actually made me think there was a reason coffeecake could have coffee in it. In a word, it was yummy.</span><br /><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial Narrow','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'font-family:'Times New Roman';" >Later this week, I needed to bake a cake. Yes, needed. I'm taking part in a wonderful informal cake decorating class on Saturdays offered by a woman who has travelled the world with her considerable Wilton cake pan collection, teaching friends, work associates, orphanage children, strangers and people like me to decorate cakes. The class is wonderful and a challenge for a traditional bread baker who never wants to be a pastry chef in her life type person. Yet, after four or five weeks of making cakes and frosting (lots and lots of frosting), I start to balk and look for something a little different. </span><br /><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial Narrow','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'font-family:'Times New Roman';" >The normal frosting for a Wilton class is shortening-based. Yes, the stuff you get on kids' cakes everywhere around the world. Why? It is ridiculously easy to make--you don't have to turn on a burner or pull out a pan--and it is temperature-stable, which means newbie student tolerant. This is not the frosting used by most professional bakers in Europe and the more rebellious in the US. Yes, it has that Crisco-coating tendency, but you can dress up the flavor quite a bit with chocolate powder, butter flavoring, vanilla, orange, lemon, etc. It benefits from one or more of these additions. I've faithfully creamed pounds and pounds of it (sounds better if you say the number in kilos as it is lower) over the last month.</span><br /><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial Narrow','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'font-family:'Times New Roman';" >Not this week, I said in my head. I had made a lovely devil's food cake recipe in the shape of a cat (it was shaped cake class day) and, even though I sruggled to get the moist, heavy cake out of the pan, I couldn't bear the<br />thought of putting Crisco on it. Instead, I found a seemingly-easy recipe for French <span class="SpellE">Buttercream</span> icing, the one with the boiled sugar syrup and egg yolks and a pound of real BUTTER. I wanted my icing to be dark because my cake was dark and I had already learned about the chocolate crumb issue with light colored frosting from an earlier class debacle. (I don't care what “they” say about a crumb coat, you really should just decide on anything other than chocolate cake if your design vision calls for white frosting.) The deceptively-short, not telling the whole truth recipe had some side notes, including one for chocolate and then one for mocha. I'd learned in class that both chocolate and coffee are great ways to make dark icing colors. </span><br /><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial Narrow','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'font-family:'Times New Roman';" >The <span class="SpellE">buttercream</span> was amazing, but temperamental. The heating of the sugar syrup requires some patience and then thin stream of the syrup into the egg yolks requires a skill I have not quite perfected. The result was a not-so-temperature stable, but truly lick-the-spoon fabulous frosting. (I can state this because at the decorating class, my classmates kept licking the spatulas I had used to mix in colorings or scoop the frosting into pastry bags.) I had to repeatedly re-freeze the <s>blasted wicked</s> wickedly good frosting and my efforts partly melted into a smooth-coated, instead of shaggy, cat during the 15-minute car transport back to my refrigerator. </span><br /><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial Narrow','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'font-family:'Times New Roman';" >I'll post up the recipes soonest. Or, maybe not as we are to begin the wonderful, but incredibly long trek back to the US this week. A piece of the kitty cat mocha <span class="SpellE">buttercream</span>-frosted devil's food cake will probably be desired around hour 20 of the journey. Who knows? By hour 30, I might be ready for an actual mocha.<?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Arial Narrow','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></p>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-78539684966234657232011-06-04T22:49:00.005-04:002011-06-05T08:02:20.558-04:00Better Watch Out<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmvXm8P9d1ZLdLwwol-qK5S1w9iuyVj-15Xgy6p-hb0NBQ0o6QfmdjhDZBq-fCHEtCIDQRKMws0vQLWaLylsFqEXoGSZYS87A5fpt8hCLwgXXQ5qNfSakdAPhZmpyJfqlJnFqiRfRuKzVF/s1600/webIMG_0586.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmvXm8P9d1ZLdLwwol-qK5S1w9iuyVj-15Xgy6p-hb0NBQ0o6QfmdjhDZBq-fCHEtCIDQRKMws0vQLWaLylsFqEXoGSZYS87A5fpt8hCLwgXXQ5qNfSakdAPhZmpyJfqlJnFqiRfRuKzVF/s320/webIMG_0586.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614699482983111666" border="0" /></a><br />Updating a blog is a bit like a job, unpaid, fun, but sometimes challenging. A friend emailed me today, wondering why we had quit updating. Sigh. I could claim mitigating circumstances: the challenges from here include blocking and slow to intermittent to non-existent connections. Really, though, I've just been struggling with the concept of blog. Do people read it? Do they care? Who are they? Do I want them reading it? Is this just an open journal, preserving our adventures for our kids to read later?<br /><br />My friend (who I had no idea actually read our blog, much less was interested enough to spur me on) gave me the kick in the pants I needed. So, with my one-year only Girl Scout fingers raised, "I promise to update our blog more regularly."<br /><br />Today's topic is urban obstacle running, which is how I like to refer to my runs around town. Now, I need to first say that I am thankful every day I run that we live in a place where I can run on the streets safely and freely in normal running kit, including shorts. Friends in other countries are not so lucky, living in locations that are either not safe or do not provide personal liberties for women to run in public.<br /><br />I often run from our house out to one of the main roads. At the juncture, I need to choose to run right which takes me (eventually) around the lake, intermixing road, sidewalk, lake park trail and parking lots or left to quite a bit of large and small road running. Running here requires scanning, a technique I have named to describe the process of constantly shifting sight from right in front of my feet to ahead to the sides to determine what obstacles are coming. Obstacles here range from the mundane of car traffic to the more interesting. Street dogs, pedestrians, bicycles are all assumed. Perhaps more unique is the surface, the terrain.<br /><br />At one point in time, the city built a sewage drainage system bordering streets with sidewalks placed above the drainage system. That point in time was a long time ago, at least judging by the current state <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6BuZPrFH_huA4Veq0z5iiw5AXU-rk3h8TfL_4S2XuArqLgfjDmHQdnXbnfaWq1-3LFT6d39aK56Oa4DRm_plmLfnlSgaEMUfkApzJJYXMyOZQEYarFKK7KZTEGAxncNq7j5tNuIQkYxhA/s1600/webIMG_0585.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6BuZPrFH_huA4Veq0z5iiw5AXU-rk3h8TfL_4S2XuArqLgfjDmHQdnXbnfaWq1-3LFT6d39aK56Oa4DRm_plmLfnlSgaEMUfkApzJJYXMyOZQEYarFKK7KZTEGAxncNq7j5tNuIQkYxhA/s320/webIMG_0585.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614701770305980258" border="0" /></a>of the sidewalks (and the drainage system). Pedestrians of all sorts must pay attention - the sidewalks are decaying daily, creating craters, pits and unstable areas that are really better off not explored by feet and ankles. Some of these pits drop down two to three feet into the sewer - not where I want to lose my shoe or twist an ankle. In my recent desire to improve my running to the point of less to no pain and moderate enjoyment, I have been practicing "barefoot" running techniques (actual barefoot running might not be advisable here - the authors of such books talk about choosing not to run in areas harmful to ones' soles). My urban obstacle runs are perfect practice for being light on the feet, lifting up, not plopping down. The zig zags and up and downs from sidewalk to road to sidewalk to leaps over holes or ditches encourages that light feeling of just touching down on the earth. Today, the run was nice, aided by a breeze that kept me upwind of most of the garbage areas and cooled the rivulets of sweat down my back. I saw two young chickens rummaging in the undergrowth, an assortment of dogs who like to sit on top a five-foot stone wall (for a better view?) and the morning bicycle delivery guys with their bikes stacked impossibly high and wide. A most enjoyable start to the day.GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-34061288895205416382010-10-25T01:16:00.002-04:002010-10-25T01:37:11.317-04:00Biking in Burma<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBWkw9aDCO-8hn417K0XEHnm6lu3zFdKo7VFdQO21ax9An41pyqlighSTQDLbBMI0kbXkJOOsuB9f8pxwStmXBORwzWDq2hF6JNm2ilBYKUlGk9godNqAn0-j95CJKIo5ztisCjiW416G/s1600/Bike+Trip+to+Bago+2_Oct+2010.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531853457725436098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBWkw9aDCO-8hn417K0XEHnm6lu3zFdKo7VFdQO21ax9An41pyqlighSTQDLbBMI0kbXkJOOsuB9f8pxwStmXBORwzWDq2hF6JNm2ilBYKUlGk9godNqAn0-j95CJKIo5ztisCjiW416G/s320/Bike+Trip+to+Bago+2_Oct+2010.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;">Biking here in Yangon is certainly an interesting prospect. There are a few challenges that make it rather exciting to jump on the bike and ride; </span></div><br /><ol><br /><li><span style="font-family:arial;">road conditions (or lack of road)</span></li><br /><li><span style="font-family:arial;">traffic (watch out for the buses and taxis especially)</span></li><br /><li><span style="font-family:arial;">pedestrians (standing on the white line is a safety zone - you may not be able to see me, but you can't touch me if I'm standing here!)</span></li><br /><li><span style="font-family:arial;">dogs</span></li><br /><li><span style="font-family:arial;">cows</span></li><br /><li><span style="font-family:Arial;">unmarked road repairs (traffic cones don't exist - road repairs are usually marked with a pile of rocks right in the road)</span></li><br /><li><span style="font-family:Arial;">broken down cars (repairs are done where ever the car breaks down. If the driver gets a flat in the middle lane, that's where he'll stop and make the repair)</span></li><br /><li><span style="font-family:arial;">and poor lighting. </span></li></ol><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;">But, all things considered, I've only had a couple of close calls so far, nothing serious. Although the traffic is crazy here, nobody gets irate and road rage is certainly not an issue. The traffic and people kind of "flow" around each other versus following any rules or obeying any lane markings. I make an odd enough entity - helmet, gloves, water bottle, tricked-out bike, big Caucasian guy - that most people stare and give me a fairly wide berth. Often the children in cars will goad me on when they pass, all in a good-natured way, and I'll be compelled to sprint out and pass them, much to their delight. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;">The roads themselves present the greatest challenge. There's really only one road that is good enough for road biking for any distance, so I'll ride that out-and-back two times a week or so with my friend Chris H. Otherwise, it's mountain bike time to negotiate the pot holes and other road hazards. I usually leave early mornings about 5 a.m. when the traffic is thin and the riding less risky. I've been all over Yangon now, gotten lost most every time because all the side streets look the same and there are few street signs here. I eventually find my way back using the GPS. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;">There are a surprising number of bikers (not the commuters) who ride, especially on Saturday and Sunday mornings. Most are Myanmar, some are expats or other embassy folks. There's even a Myanmar Cycling Federation that I want to join, just so I can say I'm a member. Plus, we have Bike World, a great little bike shop run by an Australian, Jeff P., who also organizes tours and rides. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;">Biking is a passion and no matter where you go, you're bound to run into someone else who shares that passion. Even in Myanmar. So, come ride with us. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-35018730590729781712010-10-01T02:22:00.004-04:002010-10-01T03:10:40.964-04:00Life so far in Burma<div>So, we've been in Burma for 2 months now and we've had time to acclimate to living in this Junta-run country. It's not quite what I expected in some ways. Here are some of the more interesting things we've noticed.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>1. Considering the international sanctions against Burma, I've been surprised by the rather robust availability of nearly everything. Sure, there are some "American" items that you can't get; peanut butter being one of those essentials. I take that back, you can get peanut butter, if you don't mind a Chinese version or Thai version. Luckily we brought a good stock with us. Heatherly makes fun of my addiction to Jif Extra Crunchy; but I'm not the only one as we've given some away already to other perfectly sane and discriminating friends. Otherwise, if you're standing in one of the markets, you could just as easily be in a market in China or Thailand or Singapore.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>2. Cash and lots of it. You can't do anything by credit card here, so you must pay in cash. Which wouldn't be so bad if the value of the Myanmar Kyat were a little better. Right now it's at about 1000 Kyat for each dollar, so a trip to the grocery store to get $60 to $80 of food requires one of us to be the "bag" man. The predominant bill is the 1000 Kyat note, so you have to count out 60 of those. Heaven knows how making a big purchase would go down, such as a $30,000 car. I imagine we'd need a couple of heavies for protection, a non-descript briefcase and a mutually beneficial location in a semi-public place. The transaction itself would take hours (1, 2, 3, 4....).</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>3. Roads are rough in most places, harder to describe the farther out you get. Sometimes a road is simply where the houses are not. And there aren't that many of them outside the towns. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>4. News is not the Washington Post or the New York Times, not even Fox or CNN. The main newspaper of the Burma government is 1 or 2 pages of national "news" and 20 pages of international news that tends to be more supermarket tabloid. The information age is an infant here.</div><br /><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XiMESsIgd3Nqg1a2iWJ5ZD0TT8cSAf-HhV_0GzLd32opTTxfqNWYWhfbbgD9TiM79QZQHlitx_4icUtnctklhcYuF6f2oxkF44c95G9F6OAO_ruM4iJFAIMSW0F5v-VDtm3TMHtUz8wV/s1600/DSC_0128.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 213px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522971250309277346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XiMESsIgd3Nqg1a2iWJ5ZD0TT8cSAf-HhV_0GzLd32opTTxfqNWYWhfbbgD9TiM79QZQHlitx_4icUtnctklhcYuF6f2oxkF44c95G9F6OAO_ruM4iJFAIMSW0F5v-VDtm3TMHtUz8wV/s320/DSC_0128.jpg" /></a><br /><div>5. Restaurants are everywhere! For a country where the average income is about $2 a day, there are a ton of restaurants in Yangon. We haven't had a chance to go to many of them yet, but the ones we have gone to are pretty good.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Although there are other things that define and distinguish Burma, there is common ground. The people are gentle, friendly and, like all of us on this dust mote in God's great universe, just trying to live, love and find some happiness in life. Despite the poverty and difficult living conditions we've seen, they are still moms and dads, working hard to raise their children and maybe, just maybe, find happiness in seeing their children's children. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div><em>Children's children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children</em>. Prov 17:6</div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-40137284887047199272010-08-18T01:00:00.003-04:002010-08-18T01:13:06.341-04:00One shoe lessCome Friday, we will have been here in Yangon for a month. I truly find that hard to believe as I feel still transitory, in motion, yet I know we have also settled a tiny bit. We know where to find yogurt and good French croissants (day two thanks to our sponsors!), how to ride in and pay for a taxi, the three major north-south and two major east-west roads in town and the all-important wisdom of always carrying a camera, bug spray, after-bite, hand sanitizer and plenty of local currency no matter where we are headed. Oh, and to always look down while walking to avoid the holes in the sidewalks that open up to another subterranean sewer level two to four feet below.<br /><br />Indeed, one of those holes claimed Maiya's right Teva flip flop. It was dark and we were walking back to the appartment from a good, Euro0-style (with prices to match) pizza place. The sidewalk was dark and the random holes only shades darker or lighter, depending on the random headlights of oncoming traffic. Maiya skipped, stumbled a bit and then cried out, standing on one foot, that her shoe was gone. She cried. I gave her a piggy-back ride back home. MeiLin plotted how we might come back with a flashlight or in the morning to rescue the shoe. Maiya wimpered again for her shoe. I stated uncategorically that the shoe was gone, not to be retrieved three feet down in raw sewage, and that a shoe was minor -- it could have been Maiya's foot or whole leg. MeiLin continued to plot retrievals for days as we passed the area in cars or taxis. Maiya gained a new pair of local, harder plastic flip flops. And, I placed the order online for a new pair of Tevas.GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-60773329523646287472010-07-08T13:26:00.003-04:002010-07-08T13:34:32.845-04:00So much, so little<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVWTZiEPIAYe27PHebHrkKI6NkB1Udo5U1owiGLcphJhMAOVwTcd9XfXQG2x1dF83V0kps_S6HPzN377O7gvk4tItdiSgUwPk2BmbRg5KUtk4avsxD1h6D0I8KNkyuIMKRM_HIZKAViNE/s1600/IMG_0198.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVWTZiEPIAYe27PHebHrkKI6NkB1Udo5U1owiGLcphJhMAOVwTcd9XfXQG2x1dF83V0kps_S6HPzN377O7gvk4tItdiSgUwPk2BmbRg5KUtk4avsxD1h6D0I8KNkyuIMKRM_HIZKAViNE/s200/IMG_0198.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491589949220609218" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">All that we need for the next six weeks is in a closet. Everything else has been wrapped, boxed, padded and lugged down the crazy town home stairs and then packed into crates--most headed for a three-year storage and a few to meet us in Rangoon later.</div><div>The girls have been at the grandparents' this week, enjoying those last precious days together. We also thought it would be less disruptive for them if they didn't see their world packed up and taken away piece by piece.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEici3CMzXd-Kgf5SjFbaDNL7sx_WSVrbSkZDMRwCGMTDfpjJdmDfh2mQbbjelZ2aB5V3jM-3NYI1sP1whXgJC1ne5x-NcfSYY2Wcc7dC3uDkuIcEazbvk5f3bf5PVzxKYsITiTIB00sgKHs/s200/IMG_0197.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491589944581477922" /><div>We hit a zenith in possessions about 8 years ago and have been purging every move since. Yet, still we have much, too much. In fact, once it is boxed away and taken, I don't feel much need. But, put those five ink pads, 2 stamps and four books the packers missed in front of me and I feel a tug. I might need these, right? Take them away again, please, before I figure out how to squeeze them into our ridiculous luggage count.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoYbU_39DcOi-whDMCkO8O49w5_tn6y03mj5dzm5fJkOvNtQ_K9BQS1G7wppJ1j8eQubwNpgitmRJi8B1zKPkkB5CcHsjM9lCnkxkwU_5fa4c1eE0sKItsWDuoQcm2tk3p3mY5pgaQNJ64/s200/IMG_0199.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491589942152528994" /><div>I miss the girls and am looking forward to a week on the 40' boat with galley kitchen. All we need is right there. </div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-40371077589007704062010-06-11T21:59:00.007-04:002010-06-11T22:17:06.786-04:00Off we go, into the wild blue yonder...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnGf78GXCH7rmEZPwYOSb66YtjOuKGcjOcksYVuoytYw6q0wv5nep3K9MEkExQTBxaIhMV6tIK16HZ8XI4K7yCkGjuSzMnGTBlge8oX11qUnfJ4hdpzOOzFxX-fTZCQ_TymzwkbHwbudm0/s1600/DSC01032.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481704829950858882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnGf78GXCH7rmEZPwYOSb66YtjOuKGcjOcksYVuoytYw6q0wv5nep3K9MEkExQTBxaIhMV6tIK16HZ8XI4K7yCkGjuSzMnGTBlge8oX11qUnfJ4hdpzOOzFxX-fTZCQ_TymzwkbHwbudm0/s200/DSC01032.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNHvwaUn9i6PqWkhCPblVx1g4dbpM10S2U5UJ6bw3iqAf3YTUsNeMHByo_tClGaeCaj187FUlJ0wTGFO0M-fK-pOBtywJSkqURqdxTxIoXzMbuABBgvOVl5J4P-TDGyBPOe8LEU08kfXW/s1600/DSC01030.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481704353844624818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNHvwaUn9i6PqWkhCPblVx1g4dbpM10S2U5UJ6bw3iqAf3YTUsNeMHByo_tClGaeCaj187FUlJ0wTGFO0M-fK-pOBtywJSkqURqdxTxIoXzMbuABBgvOVl5J4P-TDGyBPOe8LEU08kfXW/s200/DSC01030.JPG" /></a> I love living in our nation's capitol. There's always something going on, something to do, and most of them are FREE!<br /><div><br /><div>The US Air Force Band plays at the Air Force Memorial every Wednesday and Friday night from June through August. Since Heatherly was working, the girls and I took some chairs, a blanket, some bubbles and camped out under the clear, blue sky on a spectacular night with warm breezes and great music. </div><br /><br /><div>Now, I'm not sure if the girls really enjoyed the music. They spent most of the time blowing bubbles at each other and the kids around them. But, at least I was outside with my girls, away from the cares of the week, relaxing and walking down memory lane with the jazz band. </div><br /><div></div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481705209663492418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9NHBom9sdVo_sktAu6gYbQ0QMzswdZLvWkzEX61Y7N_f6s-pMOEIVvg0U7ZcDMq1O9BoF4VU6PMqbMUPyzLPAZMfjnJiCrVLGCYzq8doBPMGpj6KJ13KfXqgGUlcQIOi5CwudqaHn3rg/s200/DSC01033.JPG" /><br /><div>Great night. Looking forward to the next evening concert.</div></div></div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-8805731664374395022010-05-16T19:01:00.012-04:002010-05-16T19:45:54.136-04:00Treasures<div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibFJHFGJV2AFBSqjR6QXcPGchwMeUscwGNdboJA9j83UtGBXEh3L4CUbObsVC8umNerbIau3Xw6Rq-qcIfiRfwloAorgvrS57D0H2E5Q1zvrm4ZvN0miW63nM7C-zZD-rkRcbm5NLab_vR/s1600/DSC00913.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472010150299760834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibFJHFGJV2AFBSqjR6QXcPGchwMeUscwGNdboJA9j83UtGBXEh3L4CUbObsVC8umNerbIau3Xw6Rq-qcIfiRfwloAorgvrS57D0H2E5Q1zvrm4ZvN0miW63nM7C-zZD-rkRcbm5NLab_vR/s320/DSC00913.JPG" /></a> <span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="color:#000066;">Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.</span> ~ <em>Pierce Harris</em></span><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;">The girls and I had a father-daughter weekend. This wasn't planned; we'd signed up for the <em>Tour de Chesapeake</em> months ago, intending on all going. But, Heatherly was not up to biking and camping yet, so we got the girls out of school early on Friday, packed the tandem and MeiLin's bike, along with all the camping gear, and headed down the coast of Virginia to the town of Mathews. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;">We spent the night on the field of the local middle school in our 3-man tent. It rained and poured, and then the lightening crashed around us. While MeiLin slept through it all, Maiya and I conferred and decided the best course of action would be to make a dash for the van and wait out the lightening there. MeiLin didn't get a vote; I had to drag her out of the tent like a sack of potatoes. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;">But the next morning was bright and clear. After a less than stellar breakfast (or maybe it was the perception because it was served in the middle school cafeteria), we hit the road, Maiya on the back of our tandem and MeiLin on her single. The day was wonderful! Flat, back country roads, little traffic, bicyclists everywhere, sunshine and cool breezes, puddles to blaze through and splash ourselves and each other. The girls chattered endlessly about nothing the music of their silly laughter carrying us down the roa<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaeUsBh1MAMVsUbL392jRMiqqiGUCXKExXebNTNwPaUN-Jvo8nhkutlO5IwENVy9v0JxJsw-xR1x4AgrXZYuncbRBaSaPGRpRl5_8rBqh50WHGGf6iB4A2RNrUkxobxdi4TJ8yWGj9xNBE/s1600/DSC00956.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472015730060261394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaeUsBh1MAMVsUbL392jRMiqqiGUCXKExXebNTNwPaUN-Jvo8nhkutlO5IwENVy9v0JxJsw-xR1x4AgrXZYuncbRBaSaPGRpRl5_8rBqh50WHGGf6iB4A2RNrUkxobxdi4TJ8yWGj9xNBE/s320/DSC00956.JPG" /></a>ds. We stopped for a rest and watched a glass blowing demonstration. We fished for tadpoles in the lilly pond. We ate snacks to strengthen us for the journey. We had lunch along the bay and explored the oyster shell beaches. Seventeen miles and four hours later, we made it back to the camp and the girls still had the energy to play on the school's playground for nearly an hour! </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;">Next on the agenda was a movie at the local theater, complete with popcorn and drinks. With time to kill before the show started, we found a local library and hung out for a while. Post movie it was back towards Mathews and the local beach. Warm sand, warm waters and tons to explore, including the eagles nest on the pier. MeiLin found that the mucky areas of the surf reminded her of her time at the island of Juist and decided a tribute to Alt Oma (Mom's mom) was in order. If you look closely, you can see her name "Sophie" drawn in the sand. More shells, crabs, sea glass and sand - all in the setting sun's light. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik3fRlIrkjdeoR9l8uqz-stdFaf6KR47Rq7A-KZZIHkqFV1cci4MNC6klqte8uy-Wag0jRk42C3gpqLuwanm8tEYnGrQPKsUIKa99ozQVbLTh1QzmyBHTdSnXwzTNjjgqjUroGGl53eRLO/s1600/DSC00965.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472017525276070802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik3fRlIrkjdeoR9l8uqz-stdFaf6KR47Rq7A-KZZIHkqFV1cci4MNC6klqte8uy-Wag0jRk42C3gpqLuwanm8tEYnGrQPKsUIKa99ozQVbLTh1QzmyBHTdSnXwzTNjjgqjUroGGl53eRLO/s320/DSC00965.JPG" /></a></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"></span>Dinner that evening was in down-town Mathews, complete with a live blue-grass band - BBQ to the Orange Blossom Special. The girls broke out their scooters and I sat on the grass listening to the music, watching them zoom around, and silently thankful for time and place and peace. </span><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;">I don't know what the girls will remember as they grow older. I know that I still have strong memories of events in my childhood, bits and pieces, things that just stand out and give my life a sense of stability, of place, of experience. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;">We did a lot this weekend. My hope is MeiLin and Maiya will have at least one thing that, in some distant future, some smell or image or sound will spark a memory...and they will smile and be silently thankful for time and place and peace.</span></div><div> </div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472016501511056930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-umsuyJlH8EpZhadSap9AQtecUHj_DNPbNi8vylsFYEAJB-uSrWMy7OWmZMqjt1r7INPTZ0qfBTiE1i12jMuht9MJvBuAD73SqhCKjkUTuaAEX_Dl68HXutK5pGXmFfcZD8miUXqaYKQH/s200/DSC00968.JPG" /></span></div></div></div></div></div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-50119882011774813532010-04-11T08:25:00.004-04:002010-04-11T08:56:41.283-04:00Riding Dinosaurs<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW8yEKVomrbYEY6uvdhL_FpqMKtHX37XjaarXeujmpe0ZTv64t4Lkh_COptLnlOZDXYyAlPV6P2iJATpo1Z59qmZqevjNcxPi0-1Xayn300D_KKgBo002DJMr0HiFPL29t7DZiEmtk7nmg/s1600/DSC00843.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458860895106242482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW8yEKVomrbYEY6uvdhL_FpqMKtHX37XjaarXeujmpe0ZTv64t4Lkh_COptLnlOZDXYyAlPV6P2iJATpo1Z59qmZqevjNcxPi0-1Xayn300D_KKgBo002DJMr0HiFPL29t7DZiEmtk7nmg/s320/DSC00843.JPG" /></a><br /><div>Today was a beautiful day. The girls and I hit the road since Heatherly was at a conference in DC presenting a paper. What to do, what to do. As the son of an avid planner and seeker of relevant and memorable activities for our children (thanks, mom), I'm always looking for things that will instill a cultural, historical or natural appreciation in our girls. Fat chance. The girls basically want to know if a gift shop will be involved, if we can eat out and if any snack opportunities will present themselves. Oh, and is there anything they can climb. Note to self: don't ask the kids what they want to do, just do something.<br><br>The aquarium at the Baltimore Inner Harbor was the first choice but a quick check online showed sold-out conditions on that attraction. So, I opted for a trip out to Front Royal, VA and the Skyline Caverns. <br><br>As expected, the girls were more fascinated by (1) the dirt on the floor of the cave and the cool sounds you can make when you drag your feet; (2) the ginormous gift shop complete with rude-humor bumperstickers, cheap toys and t-shirts; (3) lunch; (4) the Dragon Maze at the cave; (5) and the dinosaur statue in the park. Ah well, I guess at some point they'll begin to appreciate the things that parents expect them to. But then again, maybe we parents miss too much because we don't go and ride the dinosaurs. <br><br>Today is another beautiful day. Maybe we'll take the girls to the park and climb some trees and then go for ice cream. Simple. My new motto: ride dinosaurs.<br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgv1HHByhYeojemxQHnoO4t-THQ3nxJJ6HMW7xZ7srypmHi50lOZIs_d76PFxI4qXfeyq6rgA4M__v-V-_3f2gEBpy6AYBWby5MDpWQAdrD2lxPZjOmVCukhvFOlZIhnri3zyIGAlVcFo4/s1600/DSC00815.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458859570058802338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgv1HHByhYeojemxQHnoO4t-THQ3nxJJ6HMW7xZ7srypmHi50lOZIs_d76PFxI4qXfeyq6rgA4M__v-V-_3f2gEBpy6AYBWby5MDpWQAdrD2lxPZjOmVCukhvFOlZIhnri3zyIGAlVcFo4/s320/DSC00815.JPG" /></a><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-3072913641699002102010-04-05T21:05:00.003-04:002010-04-05T21:13:54.930-04:00Weighty Moments<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLw1BbsqULISir12HodBGwT-o16Mi-mrhDP0ciMeEYOmENYAEPOse8axhb6yw3plplaEJZuIWGmbVVwHRXXpRZVKMN3L3jQW31RRKF2DpxOHQBHnq729s9CBkNuxoxe7_nJKluFKh-5Jby/s320/IMG_1237.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456824690448698994" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>An invitation to the White House Egg Roll - pretty special, amazingly cool, but not fully appreciated by the 100+ kids from our school today. Parents got it. Teachers got it. Kids - hmm, chatting on the bus or in the security line was a highlight of the day for many. For our girls, it was neat, but the healthy food court attracted them as much as the Egg Roll or seeing the Obama family up close (well, closer than I ever thought we would be).<div><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtxrnU7hi6Q2OPBxKrvBh1hQ4wkkLUBPQ-kYwbUWUF5q8uZ-Zv6dPAf5bD5JfGob0YU1YPdm0x15xw8mTNpq1cxqFcRViezBXLEWS-urZ_z7rytAi12kholOeMljrWFz5uIWMUhtOi_VV/s320/IMG_1234.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456826382131492354" /><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Healthy or not, the food was a hit with all the kids thanks to long lines and warm sun. Two hours after breakfast and most of them want to know when they will get to eat again. The girls managed to scarf down hard-boiled eggs (complements of the Egg Roll), homemade granola, bananas, apples and fruit smoothies in the short hour. After a long race to the buses and an even longer wait in the bus for one lost chaperone/child set, we headed back to school and then on to a late lunch where the girls then consumed their packed lunches and large fruit drinks. Goodness!</div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtxiRr_cdIuJTzZrYlPZ_I6H7HZvDtB-a6GAwFn0-lEzOhPeQWrf_Zd5v_sy0btEk4glUosE46nnOc11gD3juLTDO3-QNjTG3JFE9Jo_80ts6nlyHQln-xY1ilMZeB83f7mhXj6vK4b70t/s320/IMG_1232.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456825568410886722" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-73637928638754001542010-03-29T07:51:00.005-04:002010-03-29T08:32:36.596-04:00Cake Pudding<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZAKOjFdZxfA5AGSil1oORVz1X3z6drhu5O3ePqqL4OND7f7BYTBNV_4rzK6fF_j_rwzKJOuherdvrbawD4qIPlzhvCMKVwZuNWPeBTrWzDKtzoivG53i4JsQZLztShTu_7wqjyHq35Db/s1600/IMG_1212.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZAKOjFdZxfA5AGSil1oORVz1X3z6drhu5O3ePqqL4OND7f7BYTBNV_4rzK6fF_j_rwzKJOuherdvrbawD4qIPlzhvCMKVwZuNWPeBTrWzDKtzoivG53i4JsQZLztShTu_7wqjyHq35Db/s320/IMG_1212.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454032286549920674" /></a><br />Spring blasted in on us with a week of sun and warmth and then crept back to its more normal rainy self this week. The rain suits me today as we enter Passion Week before Resurrection Sunday. I grew up saying "Easter," but my short trip to Uganda taught me this new term: Resurrection Sunday.<br /><br />I had forgotten until yesterday in church as a lady came in a bit late and sat next to me. She was suffering from allergies even more than I was with tissues and an inhaler and a process of excusing herself every now and then to go outside and blow her nose more loudly. After she sat down, as the kids started a processional in the aisles with their palms waving, she asked me<br /> "Is this Resurrection Sunday?"<br /><br /> "No, Palm Sunday."<br /><br />Easter, for those who want to know, comes from Middle English which itself comes from Old English and then goes back to Germanic <span style="font-style:italic;">Ostern</span>, which surprising (or not?) is the name of a goddess and her festival, derived from the cardinal point east. What? I think I will use Resurrection Sunday from here out. It is obvious, in-your-face, blunt, which explains why Americans don't use the term much. Being obvious about faith isn't in favor.<br /><br />Even though it is still Lent, I have been researching breads and other goodies traditionally served on Resurrection Sunday and that has made me hungry. Yesterday we made petit fours for the egg hunt at church (eggs = new life, no bunnies needed). I had leftover sponge cake cubes from that effort sitting in the fridge this morning. I had read somewhere that leftover cake could be used for bread pudding. A revelation - cake is rich bread, right? I freaked out momentarily when the cubes dissolved quicker in the custard base, but then calmed down when I saw how it all baked together. It's Monday, but Sunday is coming.<br /><br /><b>Sponge Cake Pudding</b><br />Leftover cake cubes, 4 cups (mine were roughly 1.5 inch squares--I would say 1/3 of a 9 x 13 sheet cake)<div>2 eggs</div><div>1/2 cup buttermilk (because I had it leftover)</div><div>1 1/2 cup milk or vanilla soy milk</div><div>3/4 cup pecans, chopped fine</div><div>1 cup frozen blackberries (from this last summer's picking--lovely!) or any kind of berry</div><div><br /></div><div>1. Crumble the cake in a bowl. Add the pecans.</div><div>2. In a small bowl, blend the eggs, buttermilk and milk with a fork. </div><div>3. Pour the egg mixture over the cake crumbles. Add in the frozen berries and stir just until combined. </div><div>4. Pour mixture into a 9 x 9 square baking dish that has been sprayed or oiled. </div><div>5. Bake at 375 until firm and browning on top.</div><div><br /></div><div>We enjoyed it with a spoonful of Greek vanilla yogurt on top. The younger daughter rejected the berries, but I consider that a personal preference issue.<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-52665529110058470942010-02-05T17:02:00.011-05:002010-02-06T08:57:56.554-05:00Igloo in the Road<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn8V6BzKWZltJ8NLF0k_Qzs5KTR2Att2ckNJ4OYavVtGCh__zuZN0HncoIGvZeMx2mm-lizNSZmWOXO9ZbSXTvKUZJ6D6K10IC7twRHHBTHbCdcchiSWIQDDO621yxYRll46H-qN2kDVZd/s1600-h/DSC01336_a.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 251px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 192px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434888780060719154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn8V6BzKWZltJ8NLF0k_Qzs5KTR2Att2ckNJ4OYavVtGCh__zuZN0HncoIGvZeMx2mm-lizNSZmWOXO9ZbSXTvKUZJ6D6K10IC7twRHHBTHbCdcchiSWIQDDO621yxYRll46H-qN2kDVZd/s320/DSC01336_a.jpg" /></a>I get this question a lot. In fact, I can almost bet it's the second or third question when someone finds out we're going to Burma, kids and all. It's not always exactly the same, but it invariably is accompanied by the raised eyebrow, the not-so-subtle body language that says "Really?"<br /><br />"Is it safe?"<br /><br />"Aren't you worried about the girls?"<br /><br />Last weekend the girls and I played out in the snow for a couple of hours. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">MeiLin</span>, ever the project and goal-oriented girl, set her heart on building an igloo with these great, plastic block-scoops. You scoop up the snow, pack it in and turn the form upside to create perfect snow blocks. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Maiya</span> spent most of her time sitting in the igloo while <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">MeiLin</span> and I built--<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">MeiLin</span> is her father's daughter.<br /><br />The snow was light and fluffy, fragile. Over an hour, we were able to build a tenuous tower of snow, ever taller, eventually topping even my six-foot height. The girls, of course, were ready to spend the night in their new igloo, build more, add a roof, attic, windows, doors. Problem was, we built it in the road.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434889635235782850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7H6AIFHubgyuKDYsyDmDnSSwLRC9E1G0CWbxpoGUFvuGPEhajxPSSEcDDCoJRFwFKekYjmv-We4LGn9rNEaJoz1ACjwYxQFl9KvcH4ye3fZ1urI138Lu1go0Aw6s7yoRskG0V25roMZnv/s320/DSC01337_a.jpg" /> "Is it safe?" <p>"Aren't you worried about the girls?"</p><p>I don't know. We think we're safe in our neighborhood, safe enough to play in the snow in the middle of the street. Safe enough to walk to school. Safe enough to drive around town. Safe enough to bike to work. Everyday we buy into this false sense of control and security. I convince myself that nothing is going to happen, that I can control the outcome of today because of the choices I make. </p><p>Put on your <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">seat belt</span>, and you're safe. Wash your hands, and you're safe. Look both ways before you cross, and you're safe. </p><p>Trouble is, the world around us, the daily news bear witness to the light, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">fluffy</span> and fragile igloo of our daily lives. Earthquakes. House fires. Accidents. Sickness. Tragedy. The violence of man. The igloo eventually melts. The walls slowly collapse and the igloo disappears. "For what is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." </p><p>Our igloo? It lasted a lot longer than I thought it would, considering its location. I gotta tell you, as a guy, it's awfully tempting to blast through it when you're driving the car. But, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">surprisingly</span>, no one did. The igloo slowly twisted and collapsed part way, still standing, struggling to hold on to its form. It eventually disappeared into the snow bank on the side of the road. </p><p>It's snowing again, and this weekend promises a snow storm of historic proportions, possibly the biggest in the Washington DC region. Time to build another igloo, even if we know it will just disappear. "If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this..."</p><p></p>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-83520221647548512312010-01-18T13:56:00.006-05:002010-01-18T14:34:25.954-05:00Banana Bread for Kids of All Ages<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2yhUexGWv5bOl-kLDq_OnT9OV-Q0M7-UbR7bqIX5vn-khNX3e7UyjJ7fMwnC-EXi1qw17oN9TKQgCjhSNj4LAhcHDZoWwnyMay4An7sdtTbzKuRKh_FNdGBvTE-ql3km8DAFLUM3RDGxz/s1600-h/P1015032.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2yhUexGWv5bOl-kLDq_OnT9OV-Q0M7-UbR7bqIX5vn-khNX3e7UyjJ7fMwnC-EXi1qw17oN9TKQgCjhSNj4LAhcHDZoWwnyMay4An7sdtTbzKuRKh_FNdGBvTE-ql3km8DAFLUM3RDGxz/s320/P1015032.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428164728166069858" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">This morning, I found myself staring at three bruised and blackened bananas. This was not my first, or even hundredth, encounter with the rejected fruit. My otherwise wonderful husband and oldest child both refuse to consume any but the most perfectly yellow bananas. Any that have browned even a little are passed over during snack time. This preference for only yellow results in quite a few extra bananas, past their prime as the time from green to yellow to a few tiny brown spots can happen almost overnight (or at least it feels like it).</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitUEso1WaW88mzIdfDFftldkcmliPWBRpuI-v7ldud0_r1kZ68W9dLL96dh3cqmNgZc84otTgzwitJrl2_9uwVv_XniwIZppnqAkkQ7-JBbxQ3uue5QBHJorHsecmTaZBFqfX0z_jRZcZZ/s320/P1015030.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428164724806834978" /><div>In the past, I've done a variety of banana bread recipes with or without nuts of all kinds. I've made banana muffins, peanut butter banana bread, Amish banana cake and many many banana yogurt smoothies. I adore banana breads both fresh and toasted. Is there anything more delightful than toasted banana bread with cream cheese or butter? The children have not exhibited my fondness for banana bread unless I throw in some chocolate chips, and even then, they manage to often eat out the chocolate chips and leave most of the bread. Muffin shapes they accept a little more readily, even if the same recipe. Form appears to be important to them in ways I would not have been able to articulate pre-children.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xJt9TiqkhGAaJeLLlVkXeWoygfEXvfixtTr64lu1thnMqf2IFyNmMXlLqTgzhFWDvCTf5_MFKYTkskpF3JJ_vgrS-4U4Cs2WXFJYhc2FYhkqioKVebiiH3qhQ56w_QgCo-l7bDH4u-F7/s320/P1015018.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428164716936071138" /><div style="text-align: left;">Today though I had a picky child recipe success with the bananas no longer fit for direct consumption. I'm out of chocolate chips (and vanilla, as you will see the omission in the recipe), but really wanted a bread that girls would eat willingly at lunch tomorrow. I did, however, have some King Arthur double dark cocoa powder (decadent stuff!) and chia seeds I had bought a few months ago on a fit of health after reading about them in a running book. I borrowed the base of the recipe from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bernard-Claytons-Complete-Book-Breads/dp/0743287096/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1263843194&sr=8-1">Bernard Clayton's wonderful bread book</a> (I have the older version) and improvised from there.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX3G13qGoURK8sAZViUy7k7pexDfCAhAK6jSbBtbZZQMW5vVj6YNaPJ5I_csD6MjeVMgHeJ2t1hkki1b7QQOaucc4B3u23pYotAmPjF2rfgEn-QPh1Dh8BItiHcHpqhVZy_iRJ_xfj742J/s320/P1015012.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428164714312835410" /><div>The result: a success even with the most pickiest eater in the house. They even asked for more. Wow. Chocolate really does make everything better and, as I found out, when you make the whole bread chocolate, they can't pick it out. I got them now.</div><div><br /></div><div>Chocolate Banana Bread for Everyone</div><div>6 Tbsp butter at room temperature</div><div>1/2 cup sugar</div><div>2 eggs, room temperature</div><div>1 1/2 cups mashed bananas (about 3 bananas)</div><div>1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour</div><div>3 Tbsp chia seeds (optional, but yummy little crunch--or try poppy seeds)</div><div>3 Tbsp cocoa powder (the dark King Arthur is wonderful)</div><div>1 tsp baking soda</div><div>1/2 tsp baking powder</div><div>1/4 tsp salt</div><div><br /></div><div><ol><li>Preheat over to 350F.</li><li>Grease a medium (8 x 4) baking pan. I use Pam. </li><li>In a mixing bowl, cream the butter and sugar together and ad the eggs, one at a time, beating after each addition. Mix in the banana puree. </li><li>In a second medium bowl, mix the flour, seeds, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder and salt with a whisk until combined. </li><li>Using a rubber spatula, mix in 2/3 of the flour mixture into the butter mixture then once combined, add the remainder of the flour mixture and stir until just combined. Do not overmix or the bread will be tough. </li><li>Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 50-60 minutes--until firm on top (not jiggly). Cool on a rack for five minutes in the pan and then turn out and finish cooling. </li></ol></div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-30064528231893021732010-01-06T17:56:00.006-05:002010-01-06T20:00:41.899-05:00The Cat Who Fetches<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzbaTfMdvdoAWjabJd9jypC-uBRehvDkFwnl3r2E_0Qq1ZKdxUGHGlVVQ0J_bk1MEptCpK8zAtBm528p3Pq4w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-11932219844726342752010-01-03T16:15:00.004-05:002010-01-03T19:52:25.988-05:00Christmas Bread<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3OMs0hnDbKsOr8XQIgYlfGLV60bj4x1yU0HntAnVtlUZzH-C8gddYUxwMqzooKKorT_SA802Yc3ieVC30W7RerMHIDAbmyGITJltmKYxx3jQVxgJy0ao_e2FbqOqaRVBLWqhchgkzSkHY/s1600-h/IMG_1116.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3OMs0hnDbKsOr8XQIgYlfGLV60bj4x1yU0HntAnVtlUZzH-C8gddYUxwMqzooKKorT_SA802Yc3ieVC30W7RerMHIDAbmyGITJltmKYxx3jQVxgJy0ao_e2FbqOqaRVBLWqhchgkzSkHY/s320/IMG_1116.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422681019090118082" /></a><br />One of my favorite Christmas traditions is making and consuming <i>natalizia</i>, a fabulous Italian bread similar to, but not quite as adorned as, panettone. I call this a tradition because I have been making it for approximately 10 years, ever since I found a obscure cookbook <i>Celebrating Italy</i> by Carol Field. Field provides a wonderful history of tiny hamlets and feast days along with seemingly well-researched and old recipes (I mean old as in back to the Roman period). She spend a good portion of the Natale section on the pandolce, panettone and natalizia Christmas breads. It takes me all day to make 2 tall domed natalizia and the time is worth it. This bread is airy, eggy and when sliced thin, toasted and slathered with butter is the most delicious thing I know. Sorry if I am drooling.<div><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKpv0fL2fud-lDp1GFgP9sYeeDvSuuUky6A_hUDAwAH9iedJHzdFkQmd6aC54YQV1zCnmPgFA2fDU7ye9rrh4OsfPql3dHNYjP6qSToasO39dzPzwpqgFsyUJD0ssCwLp19boi4PkXKB19/s320/IMG_1087.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422625341340956322" /><div><br /></div><div><div>Now, on another bread topic (yes, bread does seem to feature heavily in my life), I made a wonderful discovery today. If I heat my oven as high as it will go (which, for the record, is 550F), place a cast iron skillet on the bottom filled with warm water and bake baguettes at this blasting heat for 25 minutes, their crunch is fabulous and they get wonderful air pockets. While I still say I could use a bread oven someday when we settled down, this new approach definitely produces an almost bakery-worthy crust.</div></div></div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-50527648600697703712009-12-20T09:04:00.001-05:002009-12-20T09:06:47.872-05:00Snow Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd8QZc4M3xx-x1kiAqbmElNoZ_022v6-AlO_v5Kzz0FQyxQiOLH5sr_x_E35U0wtw6WiJY2a6eI4Ys2T4QRZ1dEl9J8cbLufjvHPwLTmUqX9Ed4tniVAXSrZvFMlniAxBx9g_mQPevpdaw/s1600-h/IMG_1070.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd8QZc4M3xx-x1kiAqbmElNoZ_022v6-AlO_v5Kzz0FQyxQiOLH5sr_x_E35U0wtw6WiJY2a6eI4Ys2T4QRZ1dEl9J8cbLufjvHPwLTmUqX9Ed4tniVAXSrZvFMlniAxBx9g_mQPevpdaw/s320/IMG_1070.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417319545762486194" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTIPCoZc6DkY7Sc_WiwuhqYrbUlwkLPwpztEPykHwsKz6Fu-ugrMhfuunDByK1PpNE_WPWFdah3AbArWy25cTopWNLm1Ypy4FXozDdmJeOGz5fyWY35Z_DKStweNmjICBG70QniVNWN_T/s1600-h/IMG_1066.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTIPCoZc6DkY7Sc_WiwuhqYrbUlwkLPwpztEPykHwsKz6Fu-ugrMhfuunDByK1PpNE_WPWFdah3AbArWy25cTopWNLm1Ypy4FXozDdmJeOGz5fyWY35Z_DKStweNmjICBG70QniVNWN_T/s320/IMG_1066.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417319541199667490" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitevn-LvFD8Di6dqgwhsmHQFyrf82oXuGnCHsSOBN4D957n-eXfelrjFkwTZLl1xUHQEBIvMfDkugMQ7gnfYXjHqjByaW5EWVJMPn1mgEsrfF4-5Fl72X9U0eXqaLDJ-zJeOJtWHV_kXEg/s1600-h/IMG_1067.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitevn-LvFD8Di6dqgwhsmHQFyrf82oXuGnCHsSOBN4D957n-eXfelrjFkwTZLl1xUHQEBIvMfDkugMQ7gnfYXjHqjByaW5EWVJMPn1mgEsrfF4-5Fl72X9U0eXqaLDJ-zJeOJtWHV_kXEg/s320/IMG_1067.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417319535843081138" /></a>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-60298202131258309632009-12-19T16:39:00.004-05:002009-12-19T16:42:54.434-05:00Not too fairy, but lots of dairy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxtIHuwNo21KB4DujWZsd0nT-pw26AE88oPSHuZsP4INy4QMYrqUyVKeZomSbpZk3G7pGnV3G8PKQIrxH6CpIDILG3ueJ2GRMQfZG5Yshuet9hjZhBSpi-7JUfDK3Yl5u5wI1FKIlrJ9Sf/s1600-h/IMG_1012.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxtIHuwNo21KB4DujWZsd0nT-pw26AE88oPSHuZsP4INy4QMYrqUyVKeZomSbpZk3G7pGnV3G8PKQIrxH6CpIDILG3ueJ2GRMQfZG5Yshuet9hjZhBSpi-7JUfDK3Yl5u5wI1FKIlrJ9Sf/s320/IMG_1012.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417065523076648434" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhhuoXStQKEB_hfSkJSjqd-2HGzs1N05-zgBkHGSEMda_LOvJd2WV9NdwdWH2UuOWS7ewuq87oc4cZu0XJLv56qObMLbLhPVqJXHqDHB6sSWulvRUJYnVT1FcPybhBO09pyFz86YwOmqH/s1600-h/IMG_1011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhhuoXStQKEB_hfSkJSjqd-2HGzs1N05-zgBkHGSEMda_LOvJd2WV9NdwdWH2UuOWS7ewuq87oc4cZu0XJLv56qObMLbLhPVqJXHqDHB6sSWulvRUJYnVT1FcPybhBO09pyFz86YwOmqH/s320/IMG_1011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417065516944090626" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHmPwydHZcZvzwVW81Hjn4wmSeF3PEmCADQNmBWjWf6N9jHp4fSztOHyoW1Or061Biz7sxZIdknpTTpNHgqRLOv8KIhc7wW39w523ry_ZqlQYKE-sDob3u0wooirQsUT7mrjBB65BnbgH/s1600-h/IMG_1010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHmPwydHZcZvzwVW81Hjn4wmSeF3PEmCADQNmBWjWf6N9jHp4fSztOHyoW1Or061Biz7sxZIdknpTTpNHgqRLOv8KIhc7wW39w523ry_ZqlQYKE-sDob3u0wooirQsUT7mrjBB65BnbgH/s320/IMG_1010.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417065518283446370" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0Iy2A4njk1CfVpfwK5BvK970ObU02sNRwSTovUJqNNaXCBLxqhmLFIxl0UsKNLhw7pTIxGk_D1dMGsScU7l3wvC3WRD_TY0YnSuZKYWEC5jWJikT-zJfy_xdTC1q05b2OmF4qnltpKQk/s1600-h/IMG_1006.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0Iy2A4njk1CfVpfwK5BvK970ObU02sNRwSTovUJqNNaXCBLxqhmLFIxl0UsKNLhw7pTIxGk_D1dMGsScU7l3wvC3WRD_TY0YnSuZKYWEC5jWJikT-zJfy_xdTC1q05b2OmF4qnltpKQk/s320/IMG_1006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417065512818104338" /></a>For Maiya's birthday, we had a fairy themed party. I had planned on a fairy birthday cake...but it turned out to be more of a flower cake. Mom made all the gum paste flowers and I made a devil's chocolate layer cake with marshmallow fondant (loved it) and chocolate malt filling. Yum. <div><br /></div><div>The grandfathers approved. </div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-50744288955966757432009-12-17T08:23:00.001-05:002009-12-17T08:23:41.052-05:00Merry Christmas All!<script type="text/javascript" src="http://wanimoto.clearspring.com/o/46928cc51133af17/4b2a30bd1b0a0645/46928cc51133af17/68da8fb2/-cpid/287185355f9220bc/-EMH/300/-EMW/540/widget.js"></script>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-59814732158745892642009-12-07T15:10:00.004-05:002009-12-07T21:24:26.053-05:00The New Synchro Swimmer<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigULGhjwhEdhzwc8MXodlLzQXe92ClgU_34Wevg71MsSDKyWi1OhKTAFTT4Y81qc4EpDhKQQWRSO4JC0a2cpuYU_iYP0OwpimXrBsqZGULAjim6qN4_Hy0GqhcRNSgTrrwoKVTtLQOJkb5/s320/IMG_0954.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412681366174470466" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhna2643ZmpWEGbf9We86Y0evOqeaTfHjr8ysQCXhqOOBs1cuKYMo9He_fjtp7rfnQzU002wOO3PpF6gAAVQ1fRbLsP3qx30Uu_WDXq4lYUdaMy2hK2SNDVL0oWnrs5LmHmm7OP2JVLrqXs/s320/IMG_0961.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412681370218639858" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOurKuEytQEMc_IGt05N2LcKP1L7uMvlAzbJJpudxQD5ySffGn6MFyZu-GFP7WXSdER681sAwxdBWeE_wz8qoNnz7BlMH_gH8zC1pLfvDpOoKWylKo0sSzRXHBFgTgf2jd_uKLKd-gudlQ/s320/IMG_0971.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412681377354390242" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzc0XC884ZMYFDSLmTkIcqb_UEvnwCCCa8czqAZeMzMX6Ma9CoOTIIlG8b4Fn49GxP1BzKPjxJTGq9QX_vu1A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-51897560076578386682009-12-05T07:14:00.005-05:002009-12-05T20:11:09.651-05:00No Sheep Here, Only in the Chili<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_GJ8KFd9FynbJQNUjWE-bAhXAmq5Oj_rs6ZK1jLq3VbBX0nW4bgaivCXuxNoDJEB1lvmkqW-x2SEElPNP_YC_XQZPtxMcwKHxuJ9MFbZjVyQpvKkg4s2ZwNcEYLv_OQgRwbqpvMaWgTpC/s1600-h/169841381_89c779eb83_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_GJ8KFd9FynbJQNUjWE-bAhXAmq5Oj_rs6ZK1jLq3VbBX0nW4bgaivCXuxNoDJEB1lvmkqW-x2SEElPNP_YC_XQZPtxMcwKHxuJ9MFbZjVyQpvKkg4s2ZwNcEYLv_OQgRwbqpvMaWgTpC/s320/169841381_89c779eb83_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411924153163881906" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: normal; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 18px; font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;">"When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd."</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">A crowd is pressing and I can see why the people seemed like sheep. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 18px; font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;">My sister has come. As nomadic as we may be, when we come together in a group, I realize how much I love a full house. I actually picture myself more relaxed when people are here--whether that is reality or not, I cannot say. A full house is not a crowd. It is cinnamon-infused lamb chili warming my heart. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "><b>Full House Cinnamon-Infused Lamb Chili</b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">1 Tbsp Green chili powder/green chili dried mix (New Mexico style)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">3-4 dried tomatoes</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">1 lb ground lamb</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">1 tsp dried oregano</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">1 tsp cumin, ground</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">1 cinnamon stick</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">1 tsp Ancho chili powder (or other similar style)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">1 onion, diced</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">1-2 cloves garlic, minced</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">1 28 oz can plum tomatoes, diced or sliced</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">1 bottle of Hefeweizen or Pale Ale beer</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">1 cup water</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">1 can drained kidney beans</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Salt to taste</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Put the dried green chilis and tomatoes in small bowl and cover with boiling water. Let them sit for 15-30 minutes. Dice the tomatoes and place back in the bowl with chili water. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">In a large stockpot, brown the lamb over medium heat. Pour off most fat, leaving 1 Tbsp. Add in oregano, cumin, cinnamon stick, chili powder, garlic and onion. Stir and cook on medium until onion is translucent, about 6 minutes. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Add the tomatoes with juice, the beer and water. Bring to boil. Add salt and simmer with cover for 30 minutes. Add kidney beans, stir and heat again for 10 minutes.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Serve with crusty bread and grated cheddar cheese (sharp). This is spiced for kids and those who prefer to live in the Northern culinary world of less heat. You can add more heat with stronger chilis or sauce at the table. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div></span></span></span>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-62892366759061513632009-11-18T17:15:00.003-05:002009-11-19T16:48:57.655-05:00Eating on the Cheap<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3TPvf2C9cGcdZO_5sU8e7F6CAwNL50kSfqsx9rpd8IU8pbHZaP3T1Oun7LRGU0JpZ7JmhKmAUz1vR1A1kYXZrd4IIXSJhgkIpN-xjt-sRTD7LJIaX_BytYeu2Rh0mv4hnUhG2_QPDGSC/s320/IMG_0935.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405913851144598386" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I met a woman yesterday who complained about the high price of healthy food here in the capitol. She had just found out she was pregnant and was told to stop eating all the junk and fried food she regularly consumed. She is young, newly married, carrying a mortgage back home and a rent here. She said she just couldn't afford the healthy food. She has a valid point - if you don't know how to cook or aren't willing to spend some time in the kitchen, buying and preparing healthy food can hit your budget harder.</div><div><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3cTMKcOrCDpUwAoXt8zuFrq6gtMvkuluGHRzvSYH7Nz3NC0ZVeZu2mqxtHja2JPMHF_8VfDCnMYqSF6UFU-2XPeLnqjnREWSHBOlSliAkB62Cw_rmhdKihPPM3faRKGar6DlRau_UFsVv/s320/IMG_0938.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405913854206697858" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Of course, Pollan and other food researchers have discussed the total cost of all that prepared, processed food and fast food--think government subsidies and poor health costs. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, if we spend a little bit of time in the kitchen, we can make some wonderful, mostly healthy, fresh food out of basic product. Yes, the fresh veggies and fruits are expensive, but they go a long way usually. A $8 box of mandarins this time of year gives our family five or six days of lunchtime and snack treats. Think Italian, Mediterranean, Chinese, Indian and you will see how well you can eat on about the same as you spend on the cheap, boxed foods and much less than going out, even to McDonalds.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>This weekend we bought bok choy at a Chinese food market--tender, green, sandy-as-could-be bok choy. Price: a ridiculous $2. At a local supermarket the same bok choy would have cost me three times as much. I don't know why--supply/demand volume?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Boy choy is usually quite sandy and needs to be washed. Trim off just the very bottom, seperate the leaves and put them all in a colander for some really good individual washing or float them in a sink of cool water.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRG219bk2weXCad-Sdvh66NfQgikBRUEvRZPwVHObaOGSxaUI3rAUNDhaH2Yglt1vP-fxL1R0d4cw42CzuZ6eRmpq0UUWmelNwg3T0T5iKZa2AQysip5XQRUxLPDUv2RYJsycBeKoFgGPr/s320/IMG_0952.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405934801998581410" /><div><br /></div><div><b>Greens Frittata</b></div><div>*You can make this with spinach, kale, bok choy or whatever greens you have. You could make it into a Spanish torta if you wanted to flip it. I find flipping a large fat omelette a bit intimidating so I go the frittata route. </div><div><br /></div><div>1 Tbsp butter</div><div>As much greens as you like, cleaned well, drained and chopped in 1/2 inch pieces</div><div>1/2 onion (mild), diced fine or quickly pureed in mini-blender</div><div>Dash of white wine vinegar, balsamic vinegar or rice vinegar depending on your mood</div><div>6 eggs</div><div>1/3 c. milk</div><div>1/2 to 1 c. shredded cheese - I used a mild goat cheese we had in fridge. Gruyere, cheddar or any other nice melting cheese would work</div><div><br /></div><div>In a medium stock pot, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the greens and onion. If too dry, add a Tbsp water. Cook over medium heat until greens are wilted and to your desired degree of softness. Towards the end of the cooking time, sprinkle in a dash of vinegar and some salt. </div><div><br /></div><div>Place 2 paper towels layered in a colander. Drain the greens in the colander. </div><div><br /></div><div>Mix eggs and milk together, hand-beating until smooth. Stir in cheese and greens. Add salt and pepper. You can also add spices at this time. Nutmeg is a nice addition. Or, try oregano or basil. </div><div><br /></div><div>Heat broiler and position a rack under broiler. </div><div><br /></div><div>Heat a large (10" or greater) pan over medium-high heat. Spray with cooking spray or rub with oil. Pour in egg mixture. Tilt back and forth a bit as it sets up. Run a spatula round sides to loosen. Let it cook slowly. Once bottom is set and top is soft-set, place pan in over under broiler. Watch it carefully! You want it to puff a bit, set all the way and brown, but not become dried out. </div><div><br /></div><div>Slice the frittata and serve warm or at room temperature. It packs well for lunch.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><div><br /></div></div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-65486485765007009512009-11-12T21:37:00.008-05:002009-11-13T07:06:58.530-05:00Cakey Comfort<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4QaFOMMtH6zJ2aj9Aozj6bbAMX2UCkW7hQ6feoUs1ccGBPLYh4JSce6KN2pvd6VgVb_f2odtycDUYiO7RRMo9k9h4xA9nyVzZje77mWLuLk4mHgWq6cpMn6XpFZVzYumdN1xN85D806G/s1600-h/IMG_0925.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4QaFOMMtH6zJ2aj9Aozj6bbAMX2UCkW7hQ6feoUs1ccGBPLYh4JSce6KN2pvd6VgVb_f2odtycDUYiO7RRMo9k9h4xA9nyVzZje77mWLuLk4mHgWq6cpMn6XpFZVzYumdN1xN85D806G/s320/IMG_0925.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403419906111786898" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Rainy days drive me to the kitchen for comfort foods. Comfort comes in the form of carbohydrates for me, apparently. A few days ago, I had some fresh cranberries (adore them) that needed to be used so I slipped them into a modified KAF coffee cake recipe. The original recipe called for dried cranberries and almond slivers. I like almonds, but seldom by them slivered. I do however keep a quantity of almond flour in the freezer at all times. I find it is a good way to slip in a depth of flavor AND protein to just about any quick bread, muffin, scone or pastry. The coffee cake was good, so good that Maiya managed to eat around said-offending, but brightly staining cranberries so she could enjoy the cake.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWHWYI5zn5v248tpKsNoZpu24W4I2Xl-RY4DyzTdPgCvGBPbT-nVCWuLrwZ-GoJoDKll-euNnWjDJDfsOg9qRU_o8fgRjqOvWI4AoBe2xMB85fYYIjmZaRi868egSZ3aM8uy8bW3lI906j/s320/IMG_0881.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403419902924629170" /><div>Today, the bananas demanded attention. Mike likes bananas, but only before any brown appears, so I am often making banana dishes with the overripe ones. I once again decided to go with KAF's recipe with some variations. I've used many other recipes, but I think this might be one of the best. This cookbook may be one of the ones making the trip next year with us.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic9VF-pAnVB5rNjMjm93QWx7tiS8l7n8fmNddG9QZOqS8nfneklwXb6Dc2LzJZccwYfi7icnOOcWGeekjoZNiykcYFKzKAE6ShtkMAslM4PzXHfbUBfNrKrQikpivDdJlC_LJWjdnihzwz/s320/IMG_0882.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403419900160323474" /><div><br /></div><div><i>KAF's Banana Bread with Modifications</i></div><div><br /></div><div>*First, I doubled the recipe because I had 6 overripe bananas. Banana bread freezes well and keeps in the fridge so consider a straight doubling of below. </div><div><br /></div><div>2 large eggs</div><div>3/4 c sugar</div><div>1/3 c vegetable oil</div><div>1 c mashed banana</div><div>2 tsp vanilla extract</div><div>1 tsp baking soda</div><div>1 tsp baking powder</div><div>1 tsp salt</div><div>1 tsp cinnamon</div><div>1/2 to 1 tsp nutmeg (take the time to fresh grate/pound--so much better!)</div><div>1 2/3 c unbleached, all purpose flour</div><div>1 c whole wheat flour</div><div>1 c yogurt, buttermilk or sour cream (I used Stonyfield Low Fat vanilla tonight)</div><div>optional: 1/2 c chocolate chips and/or 1 c chopped walnuts (I have kids, so in went the chocolate chips)</div><div><br /></div><div>Preheat oven to 350 F.</div><div>In medium sized bowl, beat together eggs, sugar and oil. Blend in the mashed bananas and vanilla. </div><div>Whisk together the all the dry ingredients from baking soda to wheat flour, then sift to incorporate well. I don't sift much, but I do here as you don't want to mix the batter too much (it gets stiff and then creates a drier texture) so you want those leaveners well incorporated. My shortcut is to put everything in my big sifter and sifter through and then mix a little. </div><div>Add the flour mixture all at once to the banana mixture. Stir in quickly but thoroughly. Now, stir in the yogurt until just combined. Finally, stir in quickly the chips and/or walnuts.</div><div>Pour batter into a greased (spray it well) 9 x 5 loaf pan. Bake for about 1 hour, until knife/cake tester comes out clean from center. You can tent it with foil after 40-45 mins if it begins to brown to much. I like my bread a bit brown. </div><div>Place on rack and cool for a bit, then turn out of pans and cool more. It is a very moist bread and slicing warm can be challenging, but warm banana bread is worth the effort. <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*Photos by our oldest. The first is from the Smithsonian exhibit on First Ladies. Mrs. Coolridge had a pet raccoon which the young photographer thought was worthy of a picture. </span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-90098525313763307582009-11-08T19:46:00.004-05:002009-11-08T19:55:21.352-05:00Back home<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggSKxUuvfzrRAzeJq6TjqjSvF_DcTSc_lhdzZ5c6LoW1HjF_Mnb_5dDRboX9uu1nOnaT0_cl-apZpZ-1TmTt13cpS8N55ffaWtRkPaMVyNPdJ7_V2_ngIwyGBsf36T95TjuLdUSGZo6nid/s1600-h/IMG_0806.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggSKxUuvfzrRAzeJq6TjqjSvF_DcTSc_lhdzZ5c6LoW1HjF_Mnb_5dDRboX9uu1nOnaT0_cl-apZpZ-1TmTt13cpS8N55ffaWtRkPaMVyNPdJ7_V2_ngIwyGBsf36T95TjuLdUSGZo6nid/s320/IMG_0806.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401901117991085010" /></a><br />Yesterday, our CSA provided us with two green tomatoes. I couldn't help myself, even if I seldom fry anything now in an attempt at healthy eating. I sliced them about 3/8 inch thick. I felt they needed a little more liquid before breading so I sprinkled some white wine vinegar over the slices and then dredged them in a mixture of white flour, white cornmeal, salt and pepper. I then pan fried them in my cast iron skillet a few minutes on each side. <div><br /></div><div>The taste: crunchy light fry outside with warm tomatoey inside. I sprinkled the slices with a bit more sea salt before eating. One daughter declared it so-so after one bite. The other daughter (the "may no veggies except edamane willingly pass these lips" one) managed one bite without too much gagging and a quick grab of the juice cup. But, Mike and I didn't care--we ate the rest. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, various recipes suggest buttermilk or even egg as a wash before coating. I suspect you would get a thicker coating with these approaches, but I think the thin coating works out just fine and you don't have to use as much oil. I've seen some recipes that dress up the fried green tomatoes with remoulade sauce, marinara or a parmesan/cheese approach. I do think a sauce could be nice, although tomato on tomato might be too much. Next time I might try a thin basil pesto sauce. Sorry, no pictures of the tomatoes today. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-79055989754066954642009-11-03T06:45:00.005-05:002009-11-03T06:54:47.124-05:00Gasp...<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVJ-XqR85bjhOQSh1KbTLPr2yddSMFUjCblRZAKPkPxdfnVc9fSEZEgqD0lkeqxYO3xpjjnK3yT1dS9HnZeAbCpuk_pQ3EzyBmqb57iqlUY8Ak7YYxvGsIkjF9DiMCbi1DwpGk0Vuqmq7I/s1600-h/IMG_0824.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVJ-XqR85bjhOQSh1KbTLPr2yddSMFUjCblRZAKPkPxdfnVc9fSEZEgqD0lkeqxYO3xpjjnK3yT1dS9HnZeAbCpuk_pQ3EzyBmqb57iqlUY8Ak7YYxvGsIkjF9DiMCbi1DwpGk0Vuqmq7I/s320/IMG_0824.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399844099815949314" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I know: an update! The last 6 weeks have found us a bit lost at sea, but we found floats, re-built our raft and are journeying again.</div></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_vav1bSStcCwHCuabB3ERE1pX2lOmiqpr6hD3Mi1oH_5FvXhkMWvyUUuLlrm3E_c6v8NlfxNfjjrLj5s6dIbvQeWvO6tbFHG550n_cwGfVeu8_FuD3Rn8Agfqv_u6H26Yin27AIzRXlS/s320/IMG_0822.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399844097016335154" /><div><br /></div><div>Halloween is an interesting holiday, isn't it? For those with a Christian faith, particularly the Protestant flavor, we find it a bit uncomfortable. Day of the Dead? All Saints' Day? Yet, shouldn't we think about the spiritual side of life and teach our children, albeit through a sugar-laden venue, something about this richness that goes beyond the physical? </div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg9EVbO6XXqfAgU-Yz7yBd0ySsD4hsHgFLMJBNPgzY9M0gCRzxHCqyKjTbZThf3jtwkpw82M50EhQU2OAZmbealT59wqA0AXe7fNqNDni9b-MemY29QSk6kUkpW0eK4n7qwBWN9Xph1n0v/s320/IMG_0820.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399844094527806610" /></div><div>Suffice to say, we've jumped into Halloween with the kids. MeiLin is in her girl mystery / spy stage and dressed as Nancy Drew. Quite clever and original. Maiya, ever the fairy/princess/all that is romantic, dressed as a gypsy. Mike and I decided to go retro (as we were co-hosting a 70s/80s party) and the consensus was we were Mike and Carol Brady. I don't have a really good picture of the my pants: velour orange bell bottoms, but I found them quite comfortable and swishy. I wonder if I can work those into my everyday wardrobe.</div><div><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHB4UOTwMDZj52GCMCgsVN82Q2xjZkfgRFwQvfgrHrugTA1mHKbiZ1RS4F1HRj2npYBo7R9w348RG8eEDvB9ZFO2mdDvt0FHcoHCYRSMlUVOWFqEZuWndxptkcQxiWRPChehAH8FqfdqD4/s320/IMG_0825.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399844100175260850" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137731439040334377.post-81023268750010441372009-09-20T20:57:00.003-04:002009-09-20T21:03:48.764-04:00Realizations<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHHi6YhRI1tbOJh1LMyBC_IgYi7NewXtYm3splczZO9k0Nfu5W-wmkERa6O1S9yTl6-Hd55AJKEivyKsD3vXJc-ap2Ua7jzLGze4bCwh_qGsJvRf2kpCphs3UqRf6C56gAdW6xUoPk8PP/s1600-h/IMG_0723.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHHi6YhRI1tbOJh1LMyBC_IgYi7NewXtYm3splczZO9k0Nfu5W-wmkERa6O1S9yTl6-Hd55AJKEivyKsD3vXJc-ap2Ua7jzLGze4bCwh_qGsJvRf2kpCphs3UqRf6C56gAdW6xUoPk8PP/s320/IMG_0723.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383719799906883138" border="0" /></a><br /><ul><li>I need a new lens and an external flash to take great food pictures.</li><li>I probably don't need to cook as much food as I do.</li><li>I seem obsessed with cooking, eating, food.</li><li>I have finally started running again, only to be cruelly punished by the running gods with a Jacob's hip after only the second day back.</li><li>I have only two weeks until I will be living in a bathing suit for a week.</li><li>What am I thinking making chocolate chunk bread two weeks before such an activity?</li><li>Although, peach pie sounds nice for later this week...and I can always gimply run to offset.</li><li>Sigh... more time on homework and reading and less on food would be wise.<br /></li></ul>GlobalNomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10222887843252692199noreply@blogger.com2