The Eno and the Office

North Carolina woods smell like home to me.

I spent a year living in an old camp on a bluff above the Eno River, back when I was a newly minted adult. Then I spent many years living in a lowland forest about an hour south of there. We always went back to the Eno every July 4, to work at the festival which raised the money to buy the land for the Eno River State Park. We didn’t really use the park ourselves. It was far, and we already lived in the woods with a creek near the house. Still, something about it is home.

My daughter lives not too far from the Few’s Ford access area of the state park. We hiked about three or four miles the day after Christmas. It poured on Christmas, and the river was wild. The water was up high and rushing brown. The low trails were swampy, but we hiked anyway. The winters there are not as cold as TN, and it was nice just to be outside without bundling up (I wore a sweatshirt. It was a bit cold, but I felt free.) Canoe geeks that we are, we stopped next to each set of impromptu rapids and charted the best course through the rushing water.

The Eno is usually a lazy river.

Spending my birthday in the car isn’t ideal, but we got home safely, and the route around the I-40 rockslide wasn’t bad at all. I started a new job yesterday. Been training the last two days, but tomorrow, I work for real. I’ve never done office work, but it’s the job that was offered to me. It always seemed odd to me that there are buildings upon buildings of people doing nothing but office work. it seems like it should be support work for something else, like maybe where something is produced, but it has become an end onto itself.

This job is temporary, maybe two months. It seems that once you are in the census office, you can pick up other jobs with them. I recognized several people that I worked with before, but in the field, not the office.

So it is another experience to add to my life. I hope I don’t get too sedentary.

Visiting and gingerbread

I don’t think my parents stayed with Kurt and me until we had an extra bedroom with a real bed in it. My relationship with my older daughter and her boyfriend, who are 23, is more comfortable than ours was.

We travel with an air bed and camp in their apartment. It’s a nice, casual way to visit. Also, it reminds me where I’ve been. In my college and young adult days, we always traveled without worrying about where to stay, taking last minute road trips and camping on couches or dorm room floors. Somewhere along the way, adults lose touch with that, moving first to motels, then on up to hotel rooms, until that’s what you need. It’s no longer a luxury, but a necessity.

We really don’t require all that much. In fact, none of us are materialistic. It makes it hard to buy gifts, but I think that’s a good thing. One of my sisters-in-law showed up with reusable grocery bags for everyone, filled with a variety of foods she had made and little bits of other things. We got things like chex mix and pound cake, along with a card game and a slinky and dish towels. We all got a different mix of things, and she bought the grocery bags at Target and Dollar Tree, s they were red or green. It was a fun idea.

I really like Kurt’s side of the family, and everybody showed up. This was nice, as it doesn’t always happen. People often have too many Chistmases to go to. His mother didn’t host Thanksgiving this year. She sent out an email about it, along with the message that she expected to see everyone at Christmas. It was a good idea, as it turned out, better than people showing up for one holiday or the other.

Back to staying with the (adult) kids. I’m glad I can be comfortable visiting them. We enjoy each others company, and I try to make sure we aren’t overwhelming guests. We usually cook a meal and pick up the tab for food we bring in. I’m still Mom, after all.

I wanted to make some sort of muffins to bring for breakfast. Meanwhile, my younger daughter came home from college wanting to make gingerbread. I handed her the muffin pans along with the recipe, and instructions for changing the cooking time (about 20 minutes). They came out great.

Gingerbread

1 10” cakes, 350˚, 45 min.

1/2 cup melted butter

1/2 cup sugar

2 eggs

2 1/2 cups flour

1 1/2t baking soda

1 t cinnamon

1/2 t salt

orange zest (optional)

1 1/2 t ground ginger

1/2 cup molasses

1/2 cup honey

1 cup hot water

Put first batch of ingredients in mixer. Beat. Mix second and third batches

in separate bowls. Add alternately to mixer. Grease and line pan.

Tins, cookies, candles and pies

I always make my mother-in-law 2 pies for Christmas. I used to just do one, but then everyone got bigger. Teenaged boys and young adults go through a lot more dessert than little kids. So for years, one sister-in-law did these ridiculously rich iced brownies and I did a pie. My mother-in-law always kept the leftover pie, because she really likes a good, homemade fruit pie. Then one year, after we all ate dessert, there was none left. It was when the kids were all teenagers, and we all used to bring extra people. In fact, I used to call a few days ahead of time to check, so that even friends, stepkids, and foster children never got left out.

She looked so disappointed that now I make two. It's funny to think how long we have been doing this. I'm sure that when I did the first one, way back when, I had no idea it would become a tradition. But then, you don't plan traditions.

One is blueberry apple. The other is pear.

I gave in and made Hanukah candles for the last night of Hanukah. I've always liked seeing the whole thing lit.

Things are winding down towards Christmas. To me, the whole thing is about seeing family.

One daughter comes home tonight, and I'm very excited.

Got my tins done today. I had everything stored in a trailer which is on our land, the same one I'm where I have my studio.

There is no heat on, and it's cold over there. On the other hand, the fridge over there doesn't work, and with the winter weather, I've used it as a baked goods storage space anyway. I don't like to leave things out, because of rodents.

So it was really cold getting them all together, but there they are. Each has chocolate chip coconut bars, bourbon truffles, marzipans, chocolate dipped candied pears, almond crescents, fudge and either a gingerbread person or gingerbread stars, depending on the generation. The adults also got a little jar of pear butter or lemon-honeysuckle jelly.

There is a monthly songwriter pot luck that we go to. This month's was yesterday. The beginning part is social, and then songwriters settle in the different rooms and take turns playing their songs.They usually back each other up, and do musical breaks for each other. Musicians are what make Nashville special. I'm not all that into country music, but I love hearing songwriters perform their own work.

I'm not a singer, but I sang back-up on this one, just because I know the word. (I'm also one of the back-up singers here.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4atO-WdfS9w

Soup weather and the census

I was driving towards Nashville on a cold rainy morning when my phone rang. Well, not really rang. What do you call it that cell phones do. Sing? My ringtone is more of an instrumental.

Maybe it played.

Anyway, it was somebody from the local Census Bureau office, wanting to know if I wanted a job.

Yes.

It's not a great job. It's office work, entry level type of office work. But then, I've never worked in an office. I've done taxes, ordering and paperwork when we had a cafe/coffeehouse, and I did deposits and submitted reports in my last job, where I was a store manager, but I've never worked in a total office environment. Never really wanted to.

No benefits, either. The Census office is temporary. It's an interesting organization. It practically has to reinvent itself every ten years, at least on the local level.

I have worked with the Census Bureau before, in a better paying position, working in the community. But Nashville is a terrible job market. So yay!

Still unpleasant weather, good for soup. I made some split pea soup a few nights ago. I put turkey sausage in it this time, but this is one of those that I used to do as a vegan soup, back in the coffeehouse days. Great with a good, hearty bread.

This is restaurant sized. You don't need 4 gallons of soup. I would divide by 8.

Split Pea Soup

4 gallons

8 cups split peas

diced potatoes

salt, pepper, garlic

1 lb. carrots

1 bunch celery

2 large onions

mustard powder

dill

thyme

oregano

Put the split peas and a diced potato in the pot, with salt, pepper, and a touch of garlic powder. I wouldn't use to much. It's not a garlicky soup. You could even leave it out if you don't have any. Cover with water (totally covered, plus a little extra) and cook until the potatoes are soft. If it cooks down too much, you can add water. If it's too watery, take the cover off.

Cut up one stalk of celery and a carrot, and dice half an onion, less if it's a big onion.

In a separate pan, saute the onion. I do this in vegetable oil. Add a touch of dried thyme, then oregano and dill, in ascending order (ie. the most dill). If you don't have mustard powder, skip it. It's optional. If you are putting in sausage, slice it and cook it in the same pan, until cooked. Add vegetables and saute briefly. The celery and carrots can still be firm. Drop into the soup, and cook until the split peas start to fall apart.

Climate change and us

I did not celebrate Christmas growing up. From a distance, it’s enticing, all glitter, shine and warmth. I loved looking at the lights at night, and fantasized about stockings hung over a fireplace.

We had neither. I was born too late in the century to call them anything but socks, and we lived in a NYC apartment. I didn’t know anyone who had a fireplace, much less stockings, except for the nylon things old fashioned ladies wore.

Nonetheless, we children of the sixties had Hanukah presents. It was a new tradition, one pushed by rabbis onto the parents so we wouldn’t feel left out. Nobody wrapped anything, and the presents were only from parent to child. It wasn’t huge, but it was fun and warm and ours.

I never saw the madness and the stress of holiday shopping and long distance travel, families dividing time between increasingly far-flung parents and in-laws, laden with presents bought solely because it was Christmas. I only saw the Hallmark fantasy.

After marriage, we always spent Christmas with Kurt’s folks, who lived twenty minutes away from us. The first few years, we exchanged gifts, but once everyone had children, we stopped. We only exchanged gifts for the children, which made shopping fun.

It wasn’t until later, when default gifts came my way, that I really paid attention to what people bought at Christmas. Watches with changeable holiday themed bands, chia pets, salad shooters, endless varieties of shower gel. Stuff that people bought only because they had to buy something for someone who already had everything.

Which brings us to Copenhagen. People do affect the climate. Next time you’re in a traffic jam, look at all the tailpipes radiating heat, spewing emissions. Then multiply it by every rush hour in the country. How can it not be affecting the earth?

We don’t have to wait for an international pact to do something about it. The power lies with us.

We don’t have to buy as much. China is one of the world’s biggest emitters of carbon and other pollutants, and most of the useless stuff we buy is made there. So just leave it on the shelf. We don’t need TVs so big that you see every pore, and we don’t need them in every room. People don’t need giant houses to raise a perfectly nice family, SUVs to drive to the grocery store. And we really don’t need chia pets and inflatable Santas.

We can still have parties, presents and good times, homes and cars. We just don’t have to push everything to the max. Changing a few light bulbs won’t do it. Changing our mindsets will.

Peace on Earth, and let’s take good care of it. It’s the only one we have.

First day of the studio

I turned on my kiln for the first time since 2007. The temperature gauge no longer works. Something must have happened to it in the move. This is a problem.

I did manage to do some work, but I also overfired things, because I was depending on the color of the inside of the kiln to let me know how hot it was. Not good. Enamels are sensitive to temperature, and I'm out of practice. Also, repeatedly looking at red hot things causes cataracts eventually. This is a problem that potters experience.

Back in the art school days, the health implications of being an artist seemed so far off. Even so, I have always worked with both a dust mask and a bandana over my nose and mouth, to protect from silicosis.

Getting back to enameling, which I had not done seriously since 1998, was an interesting experience. There was so much I forgot, but I allowed my body to remember, then followed it.

For example, I was getting ready to sift my first layer. I got out the paper to work over, and the sifter, then reached for the Klyr Fire, before I remembered that I didn't have a container for it. Klyr Fire is a product that holds the enamel in place until the firing, at which point the Klyr Fire burns off. So I went back to the house to get one. I did this a number of times, with multiple items, including an iPod dock.

The studio is in an old trailer which is on our property. It's not that far, but it's not right out the door either.

Finally, I was ready, but I felt strangely naked, despite the heavy sweater and the hat (I didn't have the heat on).

Bandana, I realized. My mouth and nose were uncovered. So back to the house I went, and then finally, I was ready.

This would be easier if it wasn't so cold over there, but it's expensive to run a kiln and more so to heat an old trailer. I need for my art to generate some income. By next Christmas season, I should be up and rolling, and will not be working in a place where you can see your breath.

The first weird incident was that I opened the kiln and set off the fire alarm. Apparently, it's heat sensitive, and the kiln was right across the (tiny, it's a trailer) hall from the kiln. So Kurt came over and disconnected it, and I got back to work.

As I said, I had problems with overfiring (getting the piece so hot the colors break), but I made this little dish to give to a friend from my writing group. It's done with flux, which is clear enamel, and fires very hot. It's almost impossible to overfire flux.

Our writers group is having our yearly Christmas party on Tuesday. The rest of the group will get presents from my first batch of tins for the season, but one of the writers has a weight problem and diabetes. I hope he doesn't feel singled out, but I couldn't see giving him things like coconut bars and bourbon truffles.

Tomorrow, I will do a far more organized work session. It's fun realizing how much I once knew, and still know. I just have to fetch it out of there.

And do a web site. And an Etsy site. Ugh.

The gingerbread band

We went to Surefire Publishing's Christmas party last night. They have been in the music business longer than anyone currently operating in Nashville. It is a family run operation. They provided food, but also asked people to bring some. I made a whole platter of gingerbread people. Most were playing guitars, but I made more people than guitars, so the plain ones had round mouths (Red Hots). They were singing.

The guitar ones went fast, even though there was a whole table of desserts. I think it was the novelty of it. I had to hand cut the guitars. They do make guitar cookie cutters, but I don't know where to buy them except on line, and it's ridiculous to pay 7 or 8 dollars shipping on a cookie cutter. I also think they'd be too big for my people cutters.

I'm thinking of buying a blow torch and making my own, out of copper flashing. Then I could do enough instruments for a whole band.

The party was energetic. There was a very large music circle, mostly good quality. I guess it helps that the party was by invitation, even though the invites were pretty open.

My Hanukah candles did not work out. I used kite string for the wick, and it won't burn.

Gingerbread Folk

350˚ 12 min

1/2 cup shortening

1/2 cup brown sugar

3 1/4 cups flour

1 t salt

1 t baking soda

1/2t cinnamon

1/8 t cloves

2t ginger

3/4c molasses

1/4c water

Cream shortening and sugar. Sift dry goods. Add, alternating with water

and molasses. Chill. Roll 1/4” thick. Use floured cutters.

Hanukah candles

I'm annoyed with Target.

Usually, I like that store, but I have a complaint that extends to so many stores in the south. This time, Target is the offender.

There are many aisles of Christmas stuff every year, as well makes sense. Most people around here are Christian. But not all people are, and being a minority, Jews are used to having to go to stores in neighborhoods that have other Jews to look for what we need. It comes with the territory.

The needs for Hanukah are simple. Candles, that's it. The dreidel cookie cutters are cute, and the menorah wrapping paper is pretty, but cookies and gift wrap are not part of our tradition. It's just a take-off on Christmas, and we won't get upset if you run out, but how hard is it to order enough candles?

We're not talking about a lot of shelf space. One brand and one set of colors works just fine. They aren't perishable. If there are any left, they'll hold until next year, but there are never any left, because the stores don't order enough. They wouldn't dream of not having enough Christmas cards or ornaments.

This isn't the first year this has happened to us.

Back when we lived in NC, one year, our synagogue started a hot line for Passover matzoh sightings. All the grocery stores in western and southern Wake county had seriously under ordered, and this is an item you have to have for a seder. For the stores in the southern part of the county, where we lived, it was an understandable error. It was an area that had been rural and was changing, and most likely, whoever ordered didn't know that the Matzohs already on the shelf would not suffice, even though Not for Passover is clearly marked on the box. In western Wake, where most of our congregation lived, it was inexcusable.

So anyway, when I asked the salesclerk at Target where the Hanukah candles were, I was told they had run out a while ago. I paid for my purchases and left, annoyed. This isn't in my neighborhood, not close by, and the supermarket I shop at serves several mostly-black neighborhoods. They don't carry Jewish stuff, and I wouldn't expect them to. Same with the rural grocery up the hill from my house.

That year of the matzoh shortage, I made my own flatbreads. I had a coffeehouse with a bakery then, and why not? They didn't taste very good, but the ones the Jews ate in Exodus probably didn't either.

So I made my own candles. I had not hand dipped candles since I was a child in summer camp, and I'm not sure I'll make it a yearly tradition, but there they are. It's easy to do.

Melt wax (I have loads of candles, so I melted some). Dip a wick in wax, then water, then wax, then water, over and over until it builds up to the right width. It took about twenty dips. Then roll it against the counter so the bottom will be cylindrical, instead of a blob.

I'll let you know how they burn.

Brrr.

We moved the cayenne pepper plant inside a few weeks ago. Adds a nice touch of color.

I'm not a fat American, but I worry about becoming one. I think we are a culture that sits too much. We spend lots of time driving, and most of our leisure time is spent sitting too, especially in freezing weather.

I never worried about sitting on my down time as long as I was working, because I worked standing and moving around. Sitting on the couch and reading, or using a computer or watching TV or lazing around the yard was an appropriate end to the work day. My body was tired, and it was a welcome relief.

Nearly all of America sits at work, especially the ones that are better paid. It seems like there would be a better way to do things. Why should people sacrifice being in shape in order to make a living?

I have been working on the selection of baked goods that I will be giving as presents. Most of what I do would be high dollar if I wasn't the one doing them. This isn't just giving out chocolate chip cookies for Christmas, although I never object to being on the receiving end of that tradition. But I try to make these special.

So far, my selection will be gingerbread people, bourbon truffles, marzipans (made to look like oranges), chocolate chip coconut bars, almond crescents, coc au peres and fudge.

I began making fudge when the children were younger, because it was something they could do. My younger daughter usually took care of making it. It's really the only thing in my list that's a junk food. I'm not sure why I continue it. Tradition, I suppose. I don't usually consider mixing a bunch of pre-made stuff to be baking, but then, I don't milk cows or grow cocoa beans. It's all pre-made to some degree.

So here we go, for an intense sugar buzz and easy cooking.

Fudge

1 1/2 lbs.

3/4 c evaporated milk

1/2 c butter, cut into pieces

2 c sugar

1/4 t salt

12 oz. semi sweet choc, chips

2 c mini marshmallows

1 t vanilla

1 c chopped walnuts (optional. I leave it out, because the child who used to make this didn't like walnuts)

In saucepan, heat milk and butter ‘til melted. Add sugar and salt, stirring constantly, until liquid starts to boil. Cook on low heat stirring, for two minutes. Remove from heat. Stir in choc. chips and marshmallows, beating unitl smooth and thick. Stir in vanilla and nuts. Spread into buttered 9” pan. Chill for two hours before cutting.

Flipping in the pan

So I do remember how to do it.

A few weeks ago, I stepped in as a line cook at a place where I used to be the pastry chef. It was just for a few days, and I warned them that I no longer knew how to flip ingredients in a saute pan. I was worried that I was going to lose the contents all over the stove, and I used a spoon. I have not line cooked in at least 15 years.

We have a lot of leftover mashed potatoes from Thanksgiving. There was a theory in our house, back when the kids were still children, that there was no such thing as too many mashed potatoes. I guess it was with this in mind that Kurt cooked about 5 pounds of potatoes for nine people. Delicious, but we had at least half of them left.

Back when we had the coffeehouse, I used to make a soup I called Ancho Corn Chowder. It was something easy that I made up, and is vegan (unless you use leftover mashed potatoes). We usually ran two soups. In summer, one was always gazpacho, but in the winter, we ran two hot soups, and one was always vegetarian.

To make the soup, I would boil potatoes in salted water. While they were cooking, I chopped an onion, a couple of dried anchos, a bit of green bell pepper. I sauteed these with garlic, salt, cumin, coriander and frozen corn. Then I pureed the cooked potatoes and the water (don't drain off the water) and poured it back on top of the sauteed vegetables. Simmer. It's that easy.

But in this case, I was sauteing the vegetable/spice mixture and pulling stuff out of the fridge. The mashed potatoes were behind the eggs, and the leftover vegetable stock was hidden somewhere. So I flipped the food in the pan without thinking about it, and didn't lose any. Surprised, I did it a bunch of times. I never used a spatula at all.

Then I topped it with the mashed potatoes and stock, and whisked it together. It's nice to know my body remembers how to do it.

Don't think I'll try flipping omelets in the air yet, though.