daily bliss: derby day

You know how some girls are horse girls? Girls like my friend S, who rode all throughout her youth. Like my Aunt B, who always wanted horses as a little girl, and who now has them as an older girl with little horsie girls of her own. And my cousins S and S, who compete in Riding events and for the school Equestrian team.

I was sort of a horsie girl. I had several stuffed horses (one of which I named after my mom. Sorry, mom), and a small collection of Breyer horses. One of my favorite childhood Christmas memories is the stable that my Dad built me, that was set up in front of the Christmas tree, and filled with the aforementioned Breyer horses.

I was much more of a book girl than anything else.

But, there's something charming about celebrating Derby Day. Back in 2003, Derby Day was also my good friends' wedding day. They held a noontime picnic at the University Arboretum, and then we all went home to refresh, and redress for the evening ceremony. My friends S and K came over to my house after the picnic, and I actually watched the Derby for the first time, since S is the same S from paragraph one, and has a deep love for the day. We donned hats and cheered as the horses made their quick lap around the track. Then we helped one another prepare for the event.

I wore a dress I still own, and still adore, the dress I also wore to my Ph.D. graduation later that summer...




And so, today, I watched the derby whilst wearing my grad school sweatshirt over a more informal cotton day dress, a floppy hat on my head, and a hand-crafted julep in my hand. I cheered for all of the horses, and all of the jockeys, and loved the fact that Mine the Bird, an underestimated cheap horse, won.

Mint Julep
prepare the simple syrup:
rub 1/2 cup natural cane sugar and a handful of fresh mint leaves together with your fingers to release the essential oils and perfume the sugar.

then, mix the sugar and mint together with 1/2 cup filtered water in a small saucepan. cook over medium high heat until all of the sugar is dissolved. remove from heat and let sit.

prepare the drink:
wrap glass with a handkerchief, then fill glass with ice (shaved if you have it). add a glug of the strained mint syrup, and a shot of Kentucky Bourbon whiskey. I like Maker's Mark. Stir gently. Top with a mint sprig, and sip away. Adjust the syrup and bourbon amounts to suit your taste.

refrigerate the remaining mint syrup and use in juleps, iced tea, or mojitos.

daily bliss: may day mindfulness

It's may, it's may, the lusty month of may...

May always symbolizes the end of survival mode and the beginning of thriving mode for me. Unless something freakish happens (and it could), the snow should be over. Spring semester, the tortuous marathon through the darkest days of winter, is in the last exhilarating mile.

May is time to celebrate tulips (see tomorrow's post), mothers, memorials, birthdays, and the official start of summer.

Reading a friend's blog today inspired me to think about this new month, as yet unwritten. What do I hope to accomplish?

* cultivate a cheery disposition as the stress level at work *could* increase, with the typical end of the semester madness and the additional burden of budget uncertainty

* observe daily mindfulness moments, cooking, reading, reflecting, connection

* enjoy daily encounters with the ever evolving natural world springing to life

* create stronger separations between work and real life

* gather supplies for my summer of creativity

* reconnect with friends in RL

* edit the stuff filling my home

* choose a new paint color for my study

* explore new places in my town and surrounding environs

* live in the moment

daily bliss: "thirteen ways of looking at a blackbird"

drawing of the common blackbird, from the 1905 book *natural history of the birds of central europe,* courtesy of wikipedia

My favorite stanza of my second favorite Wallace Stevens poem:

V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

to read the other 12 ways of looking at a blackbird, courtesy of Stevens, American poet extraordinaire, click here.

daily bliss: lunchtime talks

Today I shared the presentation from New Orleans with my colleagues, friends, and students during our free lunch hour. As I walked upstairs to the library, I fretted: what if no one comes? What if my talk sounds dumb? What if people wonder why I'm paid to write papers about books and present them to other scholars? I mean, how do you justify humanities research that isn't transparently practical?

I can always think of things to worry about.

But I had my pink patent leather pumps on, and so I continued walking towards the library at the end of the hall.



The librarians made coffee and hot water for tea, and set out a platter of cookies.

Students--including some not in my class (who were cajoled with the promise of extra credit and therefore may have ulterior motives) lined the couches. My circle of faculty and staff friends pulled up chairs. More faculty and students came.

Now I was really nervous. I tried to make a few jokes. I warned them that Jenny Crusie's novels are racy. I passed said books around the room. I talked about vampires being hot (note: my presentation had nothing to do with vampires, though my trip to NOLA did).

And I started in with my paper, which was very well received. People asked questions, others followed up on the questions. Staff members who couldn't come stopped by to see how the talk went.

After feeling "meh" about my work last week, I felt heartened today. People are interested in ideas, in humanities research.

With all the talk in the newspapers about the demise of the University as we know it, and the humanities in particular, I question my relevance beyond the writing classroom. What good is literature? Is it necessary? Does it save lives? I would say yes. What role does the literary scholar have in society? How can this seemingly esoteric act be meaningful? Does my emphasis on popular culture texts (popular romance fiction) and the stuff of daily life (food, fashion, relationships) help understand this society that we live in and create?

twd: chocolate cream tart

It's Monday night (although I'm not posting until Tuesday--don't worry--I'm following the posting rules!). I'm watching Jon Stewart (viva la France!) and Stephen Colbert (the Decemberists!). I've just eaten the penultimate wedge of chocolate cream tart. I'm happy, happy, happy.

Confession time: I licked the plate clean of shortbread crust crumbs. And then ate a spoonful of the chocolate custard with a dollop of whipped cream. All in the dark of my kitchen. I nearly swooned.

I did this all in the name of science. I'm nothing if not interdisciplinary. I may not do math here, and I may fuss a lot with words, but I'm down with the scientific method:)

And the results: this tart, and its individual components, are absolutely phenomenal.

Readers, I licked my plate. I may live alone, but I have certain standards of civilized behavior here, and licking the plate, well, it's just not usually done here.

The tart is that good.

***

I made the tart Saturday afternoon when rain poured and Mom and Grandma sat in the chairs at my kitchen island, watching me bake, and reconciling themselves to the fact that apparently when it comes to baking, I really don't like help. Adoring fans? Yes. Pleased eaters? Yes. Dish washers? Sure (though my dishwasher made speedy work of cleaning the baking bowls and pans). I thoroughly understand and appreciate that this trait is less than desirable. I'm working on it.

***

I followed Dorie's recipe fairly closely, with two exceptions: I substituted 1% milk for the whole milk in the custard with nary a problem; I made the whipped topping with vanilla bean and a spoonful of Greek yogurt folded in for a rather creme fraiche-y tang. I also served it in small dollops atop the tart rather than frosting the whole pastry.

***

This tart is made for sharing--Grandma and Mom loved it, and I sent home wedges for Grandpa and Dad. Today I brought a slice to my colleague A, who was particularly kind to me when I had an especially bad day last week. The rest I'm eating myself.

***

Thank you, Kim of Scrumptious Photography (check out her gorgeous pics!), for choosing this recipe, which is now one of my favorite Dorie creations of all time.

impromptu ravioli

Yesterday's cool, drizzly, foggy weather put me in mind of soups and heartier fare, and I decided it was time to finally use the last butternut squash sitting on my kitchen counter. I dug through the mysterious packets in my tiny freezer space and found a disk of pasta dough, and set about making my favorite ravioli. However, upon slicing into the squash, I realized it was tinged with mold around the stem area, and the neck was spongy. My mind, however, was already on ravioli, so I considered the ingredients at hand and decided to experiment.

Here's my ravioli filling:
caramelized Vidalia onions (the first of the season!)
roasted garlic
sauteed Swiss chard
pan-toasted walnuts
dried cherries
Wisconsin Parmesan
salt and pepper
a white wine deglaze



And the finished ravioli:
served over wilted spinach, with walnuts, parm, and walnut oil

They were delicious, but missing a little something--I'm not sure what. I do, however, love the combination of flavors in the filling and will definitely experiment again.

daily bliss: spontaneous visits

This past week was long and lonely, and I needed to be reminded of my roots. Mom emailed me Friday morning to propose a quick visit. I called Grandma and invited her to come along, and within 3 hours, Mom and Grandma hit the road. They arrived at my home at 6:00pm on Friday night, and we settled in for a short, lovely visit, much of which revolved around food: deciding on meals, cooking meals, discussing meals, cleaning up after meals.... We also challenged one another to yoga stretches (I know, yoga is not supposed to be competitive), trying to meet or beat the women we saw in magazines. We watched Funny Girl on TV and stayed up a little too late.

They left this morning amidst raindrops but before the fog descended.

My home is quiet once again, but I don't feel nearly as alone as I did a few days ago.

Thanks, ladies, for a heart-felt visit!

daily bliss: muffin day

Every class has a distinct personality and a specific energy level that coalesces throughout the semester. My current composition II class has a kind of personality that can only be described as chaotic. Every session demands careful management of this chaos--allowing it to flourish into paths of creativity without devolving into utter randomness. Somewhere along the line a few months ago, muffins became the default rallying cry when I cajoled students to talk, to dig deeper, to move beyond their comfort zones. And so we declared today, incidentally (and totally unrelatedly) Shakespeare's birthday, muffin day.

And so, last night, while I was overcoming the mid-week and end-of-the-semester blues, I baked two batches of oatmeal cranberry muffins. Topped with cinnamon sugar, these muffins are deceptively luxurious, when really they're quite healthy.

Oat Muffins
originally appeared in the Holland Sentinel
with adaptations by moi

1 c rolled oats
1 c buttermilk
1 egg
1/3 c brown sugar
1/3 c canola oil
1/3 c dried cranberries
zest of 1 orange
1/3 c whole wheat flour
2/3 c white flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
cinnamon sugar

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Mix oats and buttermilk--let stand for 10 minutes. Add egg, brown sugar, oil, cranberries, and orange zest: mix. In another bowl, stir together the dry ingredients, and then add to the wet ingredients. Mix until just combined. Place in prepared muffin pan--the recipe makes 12 muffins. Top each muffin with cinnamon sugar. Bake 15-20 minutes.

daily bliss: stirring up silliness and de-bunking stereotypes

So yesterday, after receiving some rather sexist comments whilst wearing skirts, my friend B and I had the brilliant idea that we needed a little experiment on campus. We want to know if the comments are only directed at women wearing skirts or if they also apply to men wearing skirts. Not that any men on campus wear skirts...yet. To this end, we've convinced a cadre of our male friends/colleagues to wear skirts on the last day of class. All in the name of science. And feminism.

There are times when I not only love my friends/colleagues, but also really love my job. Where else can men wearing skirts be such a teachable moment, I ask.

soup au pistou

According to one Thomas Stearns Eliot, "April is the cruelest month." I believe way back in February I declared him wrong. February is, indeed, the bleakest month of the too-long winter.

Now, April is not so much cruel as it is a major tease. Flirting with sunshine and ascending temperatures, only to smack us down with cold rain turning to snow. ON APRIL 21.

And so, it seemed time to cook another pot of soup to dispel the returning cold. But the old soups of winter--the chili, the heavy vegetable soups, the thick and creamy bean soups--already seem a thing of the past. Flipping through the latest issue of Gourmet, I was intrigued by the soup au pistou, a recipe I've seen before, in various incarnations. This was it, my soup for the big April tease.

I drove to Festival Foods in hopes of finding some greens, which are a key component of this soup, and which are shamefully not available at Copps where I usually shop. I had been scared away from this newest grocery store way back in October, when my Mom, who was visiting for the weekend, and I went to check out the new store. This is what we do for fun in small-town Midwesternland. The store was packed with gawkers, and it was nearly impossible to assess the offerings through the throngs of people, all clad in green and gold, because it was also a big Packer game weekend. It was all a little too much. I was scared and scarred, and it took me six months to return.

Score! Festival stocks swiss chard! I came home and made the soup, with a few variations and additions, and am enjoying it as the temperature begins to creep upwards again. It's rather like a spring minestrone, except the French make their spring vegetable soup shine with a variation of pesto that you swirl into the hot soup, creating a luxurious, silky fragrance.

twd: bread pudding

Would you believe that I've never baked nor eaten bread pudding before? My friend S has waxed poetic about this dish, and I often wondered, as I did about rice pudding, what the big deal was.

The big deal, historically, is about being resourceful. And frugal. Stale bits of bread could be salvaged with liquid, and turned into a sweet treat with a little extra love and care. Think about how magical bread pudding would be when the pantries were nearly empty. When layer cakes and goodie-studded cookies were a rare occurrence. (There are some interesting stories and quotes about all manners of pudding on this website).

And so, instead of throwing up my hands in frustration at my town, in which eggy, buttery breads like Challah and Brioche are non-existent outside of home kitchens, I was resourceful. I remembered the slightly stale loaf of Zingerman's farm bread stuck in my freezer. While it's not a delicate, rich bread--it's tangy and earthy--it fits the original spirit of this dessert. Combined with some delicious chocolate--a little Ghiradelli 100% and Scharffen Berger 62%--from my chocolate drawer, and a handful of Michigan dried cherries, this could be good. Lacking cream and only having skim milk on hand, I worried that the custard would be too thin, but I was being frugal. And resourceful. The custard *was* thin before baking, but it thickened nicely in the oven.

Thank you, Lauren, of Upper East Side Chronicle, for choosing this recipe that I likely never would've made otherwise. I thoroughly enjoyed putting my resourcefulness to the test, and realizing that dessert can be a simple matter of transforming old scraps into something delicious.

Please check out my TWD blogging friends for more tales of bread pudding.

twd: rainy days and mondays

Please let this be the last cold snap of the winter/spring bridge season...

Please let this rain not turn to snow overnight...

Please protect the newly bloomed bulbs--mini daffodils and crocuses--from the cold...

Please use this rain to nourish the dry land, and to move beyond this, the cruelest of months.

daily bliss: routines

When I started daily bliss back in January, I envisioned it being a daily practice, a moment of writing, and a fun discipline. The daily bit worked well until life started to unravel with trips and illnesses and overall burnout. I've been thinking lately about the benefits of routine and spontaneity. I seem to want to carve my days into rituals--the 6 sun salutations upon rising, followed by the ubiquitous oatmeal breakfast, followed by 15 minutes of journaling, then the checking of email and facebook and blogs...and that's just the first hour of my day. Is it surprisingly, then, that I have been shifting between routines and spontaneity? I'm trying, as always, to find that ideal balance that creates calm and bliss.

And so, if daily bliss isn't literally daily in practice, it's part of the theory.

daily bliss: long chats with old friends

Tonight my friend E called and we chatted for an hour and a half. We have a marathon talk session every other month, and catch up on the big news and the quotidian details that keep us connected. We're already planning summer visits, and dreaming of warmer days when our group of friends can travel out to Iowa to see E and S's home for the first time.

Last night, my colleague and friend J and I talked at length about how to survive life on the tenure track, and how to pace a career. J is wise and optimistic, and I value her candor and her compassion:)

Last week in New Orleans, S and I had a wonderful long talk in Starbucks, skipping out on a conference panel as our conversation wended to cover the different terrain of our lives--the new mother and the single woman. And, over a delightful dinner at Bacco, K and I talked about creativity and tranquility and how to make our lives more in line with our ideals.

The list of friends I need to call or sit down with is long, as it becomes increasingly difficult to maintain those stronger connections over space and time, but I will slowly work my way through the list and gather my friends close, if only for an hour or two on the phone.

daily bliss: roller skating

Tonight I drank a late cafe au lait and headed out to the local roller rink for a student activity night. Amidst disco lights, fog machines, and a huge video screen, students and faculty skated around the wooden floors to music, most of which I didn't recognize as I don't listen to much contemporary pop music anymore, opting for indie instead...

As I sailed around the rink, I remembered the otherwise nerdy, shy bookworm with a navy blue skate case decorated with white stars, protecting a pair of gleaming white skates with pink wheels and three sets of pink and white pom poms. This girl never felt quite so cool as she did at the roller rink, even if she was never once asked to skate on couples only. Then, she'd buy a frozen coke and talk with her friends, and wait for the next all skate to be called, and dream that the cutest boy in class just might ask her to skate later.

daily bliss: jazz singers

It's one of those nights, my friends. At the close of a looooong day at work--11:30am-9:00pm, during which I more than once wanted to say "wtf" to students (bad, bad professor!)--I looked into the inky darkness and despaired at going home to an empty, slightly messy, and mostly dark home. My chipper persona dissolved into mascara rivulets. I trudged up the stairs, checked my messages--a cheery hello from my friend S, who I haven't talked to in a week--popped in a Joni Mitchell jazz standards CD, took a hot shower, made hot chocolate and a whole wheat English muffin, and blogged. Things are looking better, and the house doesn't seem quite so quiet, though it still seems less than tidy.

twd: chocolate amaretti torte

I can't seem to write a fabulous narrative this week, much in keeping with my haphazard preparation of the cake in order to meet the deadline. Sigh. I'm sure this cake is lovely, transcendent, even, in its simplicity and speed. My version is so-so, because of hasty construction and random improvisation: no amaretti to be found in this little outpost, and no time to travel far and wide to gather the goods as I was out of town for nearly a week. What's a dharmagirl to do? I used Mi-Del ginger snaps in place of the amaretti, and realized for a second time (the chocolate ginger bread being the first), that chocolate and ginger isn't my favorite flavor combination. Now chocolate and almond, that's a winning pairing. And so another day, another week, I will craft this cake with Dorie's favorite amaretti and swoon. And, I shall glaze it and adorn it with cream, not leave it naked like I have here.

Thanks to Holly of Phe/MOM/enon for choosing this darling recipe. This has been a crazy few weeks and I'm trying to finding balance...I'm afraid that will really happen only after this semester is finished.

daily bliss: kitchen witch cookbooks

This little gem of a store, Kitchen Witch Cookbooks, is located in the heart of the French Quarter. Of course, I was drawn in by the name alone, but doubly curious at the "Welcome Pop Culture Conference" sign hanging on the door. I had a lovely chat with Philipe, who gave me a NY Times article about a new foodie romance memoir, and a free book! I also bought another foodie themed novel, as well as a jar of creole seasoning. I could have spent hours perusing all of the culinary curiosities in the story and chatting with the proprietor, but, alas, there was only so much time in each day and only so much room in my suitcase. On your next trip to New Orleans, make sure to add this place to your list.

daily bliss: beignet

The other half of the Cafe du Monde equation...beignet. Puffy fried dough obliterated with powdered sugar that has a habit of sticking to fingers and clothes (prompting my friends and I to "verb" this action beigneted, as in "I got beigneted."). Served burn-your-fingertips-and tongue hot, the treats' crispy outsides give way to a soft inside with a lingering vanilla note.

As I told my friend K yesterday, on my THIRD trip to CdM, I ate more fried foods in New Orleans than in the entire previous year, and most of those foods were these delectable wonders. K and I went yesterday afternoon after my presentation; K, S, and I went on Wednesday to welcome ourselves to the city, and I went with the whole group of Romance Fiction scholars on Thursday to talk about romance novels!

daily bliss: cafe au lait

So very much daily bliss to report, but little time between panel sessions and spotty internet access will require me to save all the tidbits until I'm back in the frozen tundra after a balmy sojourn in New Orleans.

Here, you see a cup of cafe au lait from cafe du monde, the classic French Quarter coffee stand where powdered sugar and pigeons fly and the coffee is strong and thickish, laced with chicory. Mmmmm. A great place for old friends to sit and plan an exciting book project...a great place for a group of romance scholars to sit and discuss the sweet and steamy novels they read and write.

twd: banana cream pie

Eating the last piece of pie on Sunday afternoon whilst writing my conference paper. My TWD blog is late because yesterday I traveled to New Orleans to present said paper and couldn't access the internet:(




"That was some love cream pie."
"It was awesome."
"What are those spices?"
"That crust looks amazing!"

So cooed and cajoled the wine club, as I debuted Dorie's banana cream pie last Saturday night. My friend B's husband S explained the mystique of Dorie's recipes, hyping the pie to the pinot grigio soaked crowd.

In short, the pie was a hit.

And this was despite a lumpy, sticky, thick custard. While I can toss together a pie crust in five minutes, ribbon butter and sugar without alarm, and whip egg whites to towering heights, custard remains my bete noir, that little devil that inspires fear and loathing.

It started so well--the smooth yolks and sugar tempered ever so carefully with hot milk. And then, half a minute into the cooking, the custard instantly hardened. I stirred and whisked frantically, to little avail. I moved the pan off the heat. I worried that the eggs weren't fully cooked and moved it back on the heat. I tasted the lumps, which were luckily not scrambled eggy bits, but just globs of goo.

After a nice rest in the refrigerator I stirred once again, as Dorie suggests. Now it was even lumpier. I splashed in milk. The custard appeared like pebbled concrete.



I sliced the bananas, splashed them with bourbon and layered the custard and fruit in the slightly shrunken but crispy crust. I swirled on the topping, a delicious whipped cream concoction I altered with florida's natural raw sgar and greek yogurt. It beautifully covered the lumps, and no one was any the wiser.



Thanks to Amy of Sing for Your Supper for choosing this recipe. And thanks to my friends for enjoying the pie.

daily bliss: in the writing groove

At the start of every semester of my first year writing classes, I share my writing process with my students. I begin by discussing the writing seduction--that is, how to create a mood in which writing will flourish. Then, I talk about the myriad steps and missteps I take en route to a finished work.

Today I tried to apply my own lessons, as I attempted to write a presentation that I will give next Saturday in New Orleans. I brewed coffee. I lit incense. I played mellow CD's: Ray LaMontagne, The Decemberists, Sarah McLachlan, and, because the characters in the novel I'm writing about listen to them, the Dixie Chicks. And, I shut out all thoughts of the 16 rough drafts needing my responses, and the 130 pages of The Bluest Eye needing reading, all before class tomorrow.

I took a look at the novel again, dug up a few more sources, and then plotted out my main points. Since this is a conference presentation and not a published article (yet), it can be light on secondary sources and heavy on personal interpretation. Eight hours later, I have 12 decent pages.

Here's my Intro. If I've done my work, I'll have hooked you and you'll be begging for more:)

We might say that romance novels are a lot like wedding cakes--sturdy of foundation, and delectably adorned on the outside, draped in frosting and embellished with flowers or pearls or fountains or any number of fanciful gewgaws. In Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer’s adventure romance Agnes and the Hitman, heroine Agnes Crandall spends the entire novel attempting to write her column on wedding cakes, searching for the right words to engage readers and speak truthfully to the symbolic power that wedding cakes wield. Agnes’ inspiration comes from a complex marriage of nurturing and violence, emanating from her very own “kitchen of doom.” While food is often used in romance novels to provide handy tongue-in-cheek metaphors for sex, to substitute for sex, or to reinforce traditional gender roles, Crusie and Mayer, not surprisingly, take a different turn. In Agnes and the Hitman, food and its associations are as liable to be a weapon of destruction as of seduction, a means of forming unconventional families, and a medium for challenging traditional formulas. Crusie and Mayer effectively deploy the food-romance-sex trope, but subvert the traditional associations and show readers how to re-write their own recipe for romance by using radical improvisation.

daily bliss: allergies

I started my claritin regimen last week, and while I'm *not* looking forward to the allergic moments still liable to break through the drug's shield (tree pollen does me in every year), this is a very clear sign that Spring is asserting herself stronger every day, and Winter is cowering away to a dark, lonely place. Perhaps we should be frightened by my personification of the seasons...but today, I can feel Spring and Winter like two quibbling siblings, fighting for attention.

I bet on Spring.

daily bliss: gershwin tunes

Tonight the local NPR station featured songs by the Gershwins, classics I used to listen to frequently during my early grad school jazz phase, and classics I really adore.

Someone to Watch Over Me. 'S Wonderful. The Man I Love.

As I worked on my conference paper, I listened, tapped my toe, and remembered.

daily bliss: warm and calm

I had the luxury of spending time with several poets on Tuesday and Wednesday, and it did my soul some serious good. One, a local poet, exudes warmth and openness, encouraging others and establishing connection through arm touches. The other, my friend and colleague, is quiet and calm, with a wry sense of humor and an almost meditative like conversational style.

Having felt a little insular and high-strung lately, especially after the existential soul-searching brought one by illness in the sterile anonymity of a hotel room, I needed a little warmth and a little calmness. I need to reclaim my inner poet. I need to feel my soul expand. I need to invite others in, and, most of all, I need to feel AND radiate peace.

daily bliss: family time

Last Thursday, my Mom and I drove to Ann Arbor, where we met my brother L, coming from his southeastern Michigan home, and my Dad, coming from his Detroit suburb office. Where to meet, where to meet?


the next door bakery

Zingerman's!

It was time for Big Al's Saturday Night, my favorite sandwich: smoked mozzarella, piquillo peppers, tomato, lettuce, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar on a slightly grilled Paesano roll.



And, it was time for us to spend together, in the middle of the state, in the middle of the week, taking time out of our lives to just be with one another.


me and Dad


I'm so very blessed to have such an awesome family. I miss them everyday!


Mom and brother L

daily bliss: one day at a time

It sounds very cliche to take each day as it comes, one day at a time, but my recent illness has reminded me of this simple truth. At a particularly busy point in the semester--planning a campus poetry day (today), preparing for a conference in New Orleans (next week), and grading papers from 3 of my 4 classes (this weekend)--it's easy to be wrapped up in the stress of projection and wondering how I'll ever accomplish everything. I've been taking each day as it comes and trusting that everything necessary will somehow be done on time, and this new mindset is working fairly well, and my stress is minimized.

daily bliss: toast and tea

The first food I ate after my recent illness was cinnamon toast and tea. There's infinite comfort in a cup, mug, or pot of darjeeling, sweetened with extra sugar for a little bit of caloric intake and energy. Now, my body's beginning to clamor for something more than simple carbs but my mind is wary of any food more complex.

daily bliss: challenges

I have several posts to catch up on, as my vacation derailed my blogging. I have a few bliss bits to share, but they will have to wait. I'm currently recovering from some kind of gastrointestinal bug that caused me a hellish night alone in a hotel room in lake geneva, where I was going to attend the yoga journal conference. Instead, I managed to drive two and one half hours home yesterday between the worst bouts of the bug. Today, I'm weak and slowly supplementing my body with something more than pop and tea. So far, a single piece of cinnamon toast and a small portion of cappellini with olive oil, salt and pepper are sitting fairly well in my rumbly tummy.

Feeling ill is never good, and this time was particularly bad, as I was away from anywhere I call home. But, Mom and Dad were a phone call away and kept me company in the early morning hours at the hotel, during the long drive home, and a painful evening back at home. The kindness of neighbors and friends once I made it home sustained me through the worst of it--neighbor B was kind enough to run to the store for more pop, and friend B has offered to bring provisions as needed.

I hope to catch up on bliss soon, and to use this little illness as food for thought--about how I live my days, particularly how to live in the moment rather than fearful and anxious of the future.

daily bliss: college town coffee shops with wireless internet

Good morning! I'm live blogging from lemonjellos, a funky little coffee shop in Holland frequented by "Hopies," i.e. Hope College students. As I walked towards the flyer-plastered double doors, I couldn't help but think what a different town this is than the one I grew up in. Signs for literary journals, concerts, and the Young People's Socialist League (!) allude to a certain liberalism and radicalism that was not at all visible in the 1980s and 1990s when I was a young person in this town. Now, there's also a sign for a Steven Curtis Chapman and Michael W. Smith tour, which is a remnant of the past Holland and the past dharmagirl.

This morning, I fight for a table against prospective Hope students, a smattering of faculty, and students, everywhere students, sipping coffee and being brilliant.

My question is, how do I help bring this college culture to my town? To my two-year school that still has a reputation of being the fifth year of high school, even though students return and tell us we're harder and better than the 4 year schools?

Begin with the coffee shops.

And now, I must stop procrastinating and work on *my* scholarly article, which I'm presenting in two weeks. And which is largely unwritten. Gulp.

daily bliss: book discussion

This past summer when I was visiting my parents, Mom and I both read The Memory Keeper's Daughter, and then used the book discussion questions to chat about the story. Today we chatted about Ruth Ozeki's delightful, complexly charactered and plotted novel All Over Creation, which my Multi-Cultural Literature class read the past three weeks. What fun to talk about literature with my Mom, and to share our love of stories over a cup of coffee.

twd: blueberry crumb cake

a real high riser!


My fingers are dusky and stained, my face ever so slightly sunburned, my flaxen hair in a tangled ponytail, my old pair of nikes encrusted with smashed berries.

It's summertime in the 1980s, and I'm finishing a long day picking blueberries. I tally up how many pounds I've picked, multiple by the wage per pound (somewhere around twenty cents), and sigh to realize that I'm pounds and pounds away from having enough money to buy the pair of Calvin Klein jeans I've been coveting but are much too expensive for my family's budget.

***

Saturday I drove a good 6 hours to spend part of my Spring Break with my parents. The first afternoon I was home, I laced up my "mud shoes," and walked out into the blueberry fields with my parents, traversing the 2 acres directly behind Mom and Dad's home, and then many, many acres that my Dad, Uncle, and Grandpa farm together.

Monday night I sifted through my Mom's well-stocked chest freezer and pulled out a bag of frozen blueberries for this week's TWD creation, Blueberry Crumb Cake, chosen by Sihan of Befuddlement.

Despite baking in a different kitchen, and despite having to bake the cake in the old oven in the basement as my Mom's oven is having temperature issues, and despite adjusting to the awesome power of Mom's professional model KA (who easily outwhirls Blossom), the baking experience was smooth, languorous, and fun.

The most fun part was having a captive audience to drink in the buttery, toasty, cinnamoney fragrance and to follow me upstairs to see if it was time to test the cake yet.

My Dad, who loves most any kind of dessert, declared the cake "really good," and when I asked if he'd like to comment on it some more for the blog he replied, "I'll have to eat more first." I'm still waiting for his follow up comments...

I made a few minor adjustments, using thinned yogurt in place of buttermilk because we didn't have any, cutting the total butter to 1 stick, eliminating 2 TBS in the crumb topping and 1 TBS in the cake, and using pecans instead of walnuts. Next time I may play around with whole wheat flour.

Thanks, Sihan, for choosing this recipe serendipitously when I'm visiting my parents and have access to high quality, local fruit.



molten fruit and toasted nuts

daily bliss: mt. pisgah

the view from the top of mt. pisgah

Years ago, when I was a younger lass, still in High School, my friends and I climbed Mt. Pisgah, the looming sand dune at Holland State Park.

This past year, the county created a park, complete with several hundred steps winding up the dune, leading to steep trails traversing ridgelines and undulating between hills and valleys.

Today, my parents and I bundled up in light layers and faced the brisk wind blowing off of Lake Michigan, and climbed Mt. Pisgah. Looking down at the marinas and cottages, so quiet and empty now, I can think ahead just a few months when summer fun will wrap around the Lake Michigan shores. Oh, halcyon days of sunshine and bliss, you cannot come soon enough!


lake macatawa to the left, and lake michigan to the right

daily bliss: spring blooms

crocuses, michigan, 22 march 2009

Yesterday's post...a day late:

The first blossoms of the season. And, the first bees of the season, which explains the less than ideal photos, as I am a) allergic to bees and b) sans epi-pen, therefore not sticking around or leaning in too close for that perfect shot.

daily bliss: road trip sandwiches

My Mom makes the best road trip sandwiches--creations of roasted peppers, avocado, cheese, black pepper stacked on good bread and wrapped in wax paper. At a certain point on the road, we unwrap these sandwiches and settle in for a little break from plugging our wheel to the white line (with apologies to Kerouac).

In preparation for my trip to Michigan tomorrow morning, I made a road trip sandwich, following my Mom's "recipe" (although the bread is only so-so), pictured above wrapped in a natural wax paper pocket.

And, for dinner tonight, I made a panini with the same bread, roasted pepper, cheese, and black pepper. The cheese spilled over the edges and bubbled and crackled into a delicious molten mass. I cracked open one of my mini bottles of Big House Pink, dipped a few Frontera lime scented corn chips in the leftover avocado spread, and tucked in for a light Spring meal.

daily bliss: coffee shop concerts

Tonight my neighbor/friend B and I traveled to Stumpjack in TR to catch Pat Di Nizio of the Smithereens in concert. I knew a few of Pat's songs from the mid-1990s--"Only a Memory," and "A Girl Like You." With delicious drinks--Irish Cream Whiskey Latte--and great company--a whole host of friends and friends-of-friends, this was a great kick off to my Spring Break.

daily bliss: multi-culti potluck

an amazing watermelon carving, crafted by one of our students


I co-advise the campus multi-cultural club on our campus, which hosted our second campus potluck of the year. Last semester we reserved a small-ish room which was overcrowded, so today we filled the larger, and poshest room on campus, with a lake view, and nice long tables for groups of students, faculty, and staff to share a meal together. What a success! Laughter, conversation, diverse cuisine...what's not to love?

Well, the spider that dropped from the ceiling and crawled across my untouched plate of food, for one. It--spider and plate--met their fate in the trash can.

The students made a huge world map, and provided pins with little flags on them so guests could mark out their cultural homes. It's a wonderful testament to our diversity!


the map, before pinning

And now, Spring Break is here. Amidst snow flurries, but I won't quibble with the weather just now because I'm grateful for vacation!

daily bliss: pink day

Pink Day was awesome. I wore my new pink "Reading is Sexy" T-shirt that H sent me. Be and R wore pink, and Br and his shirts, worn by K and J, filled our hall with pinkness.

Just two more classes before Spring Break!

Just two more days until the Vernal Equinox!

Just 6 more essays to grade tonight!

colcannon

I'm a little bit Irish. I know that on St. Patty's Day, everyone claims to be a little bit Irish, but if I look back in the family tree, some Irish links do exist.

I had hoped to make soda bread this year, but ran out of time. Inspired by a bunch of Lacinato/Black/Tuscan Kale I bought at the co-op in Milwaukee last week, I made Colcannon, a traditional Irish dish.

According to Ireland Now, a website of questionable credibility, Colcannon, though often made with cabbage, is more traditional when made with Kale. It was a fast dish, eaten on Hallowe'en. and originally included various inserts--thimbles, rings, coins, and such, to symbolize life changes for the lucky lads and lasses who found the trinkets in their portions of the dish. Wikipedia, another website of problematic credibility, confirms this story.

I made my single serving of Colcannon as follows:

Boil 3 small Yukon Gold potatoes.

Meanwhile, saute 1/2 small shallot and one clove garlic in olive oil until just lightly browned. Next, add several handfuls of chopped Kale. Cook until Kale is slightly wilted.

On another burner, heat milk until scalded.

Add potatoes to kale mixture and mash with a potato masher, or, if you inexplicably lack such a handy utensil (as I do), a fork works just fine. Add the scalded milk, a pat of butter, salt and pepper to taste, and a nice grating of parmesan cheese. Mash some more. Pile on a plate and enjoy with a side of roasted chickpeas and a splash of Shiraz.

My version is more of a post-modern rendering than an authentic Irish or even Irish-American concoction. It is hearty, delicious, and easy.

daily bliss: a bit o' green

In honor of St. Patty's Day, today I celebrate my Ivy Geranium plant! I purchased it last summer at the Flying Pig, an awesome gallery cum nursery in Algoma, Wisconsin. With pleated leaves and rose-like pink blooms, the plant bespoke dharmagirlness. However, my plant faltered as I forgot to water it regularly, and when my parents' visited in late July, my Mom took pity on the plant and escorted it home with her to re-pot and nurture with a little tender love and water. The plant revived, and Mom brought it back to me in October. I set it on a white, wrought iron porch table also brought inside for the winter, and waited to see if it would survive the winter, if the weak winter light pouring in through the East-facing windows would be strong enough. I diligently watered it, and look! Not only is it surviving, it's thriving! I'm now wondering how tall and leafy it will be before it's time to harden it off and move it back outside.

twd: french yogurt marmalade cake

I love the music of Ralph Vaughn Williams, especially his variations on a theme; "Variations on a Theme by Thomas Tallis," and "Variations on Greensleeves" are among my favorites (though nothing will top "The Lark Ascending"--pure ethereal splendor). There's magic in playing with variations, riffing on a well-established theme and making it your own. This creative process also provides a nice web of interconnection between the original texts and the subtle variations--a way of honoring others who forged ahead of you.

If imitation is truly the sincerest form of flattery, then today's post is dedicated to Nancy, who inspired me with a thyme variation on Dorie's Riveria variation of the French Yogurt Marmalade cake chosen by Liliana of My Cookbook Addiction. What a web of creativity!

This loaf cake eschews butter in favor of oil--in this case, a flavorful olive oil. Add in lemon, yogurt, and herbs, and the cake walks the line between sweet and savory, proving versatile, adaptable, and all around delicious.

I glazed my cake with a simple lemon juice and confectioner's sugar mixture, and delighted in the graceful drips along the sides.



When the glaze was just set, I cut into the first slice--the coveted end piece--and reveled in a crunchy brown crust and moist inner crumb. The thyme and lemon scent was subtle the first night, but the second day the flavors asserted themselves in proper balance. Now, I'm trying to save the rest of the cake for a little work gathering tomorrow morning--one of my colleagues is bringing in treats to celebrate in advance the Persian New Year (which brilliantly coincides with the Vernal Equinox, oh blessed of days).



I will definitely bake this cake again and play around with sweet and savory scents, finding endless variations on a classic cake.

daily bliss: pink week

Last week, I hit a proverbial wall.

Winter was back: slush, ice, snow.

Culture wars simmered.

News was bleak: job losses, senseless violence, dire predictions.

My spirits were low, low, low.

And somewhere amidst a conversation about state budgets and their effect on the University System, R, Be, Br, or I came up with the idea to declare this coming Wednesday PINK DAY. Okay, it was probably me.

Now, as if PINK DAY could alleviate any of these woes...as if PINK DAY isn't retro-girly to make even a third-waver, well, waver.

But, the testament to how awesome my friends are, is their immediate and enthusiastic support for PINK DAY. R spoke of unmentionables in shades of fuchsia. Be, who was wearing PINK that day, was all smiles. And Br declared that he would supply PINK shirts to K and J, dudes for whom PINK is just a little too, you know, metro.

And so it is that Wednesday is PINK DAY.

I decided this morning that if one day of PINK is a morale booster, just think of an entire week of sartorial salvation! I ironed my PINK pants, a lightweight chino, and incongruously paired them with a long sleeve tissue tee (brown) and shawl collar wool sweater (cream). As I floated into work, I arrived just after the handing out of the shirts, and amidst conversation such as: "Do I have to teach in the PINK shirt?"

Tomorrow will be a prepster paradise, as I must don the obligatory Irish Green in honor of my non-Germanic ancestors. Add a splash of PINK, and it's 1988 all over again, minus the ribbon barrettes and whale t-necks.

And, well, as for my PINK DAY garb, if my PINK "I ♥ Mr. Darcy" shirt doesn't arrive from cafepress in time, I may need to wear my PINK "reading is sexy" shirt.

PINK + English Major T-Shirts = Bliss.

daily bliss: iPod-less walks

It's easy to automatically slip the iPod earbuds in as I head out the door for my daily constitutional. Today, however, I wanted to listen to the world waking up, rather than Lynne Rossetto Kasper dispensing culinary wisdom on Splendid Table podcasts or Neko Case's newest alt-indie-country CD...

I heard a cacophony of geese, flying in huge V's and splitting off into tell-tale twos; the insistent screeches of sea gulls, so novel now and so annoying come August; children laughing as they walked beside their parents out by the lighthouse; cars splashing through rivulets of water racing towards drains; waves crashing up against nearly-bare sand.

In short, signs of life, of change, of motion.

Sounds of Spring.

daily bliss: brownies

I brought brownies to the little soiree last night--brownies and ice cream. The brownies were homemade, of course, but the ice cream was not, though it was Hagen Daaz and free of fake weird stuff (have you seen their new five line? just five real ingredients!). It was surprisingly good, if not homemade.

But I'd like to ask readers to indulge me in a little Brownie Manifesto...

Brownies are quintessentially American, and the default snack for many a harried baker who shares chocolatey goodness with others. As such, I feel positively evangelical about from-scratch brownies.

People, boxed brownies are a sad, sorry imitation of the real thing. A slight metallic twang *always* lingers, even if the brownies are laced with cream cheese, or frosting, or caramel, or peanut butter.

I beseech you, give this recipe a try. It's so simple that *anyone* can make it in about the same amount of time it takes to make brownies from a box. You need to have a few ingredients on hand, but honestly, life is better with a bag of flour and a tin of cocoa at your disposal.

The Best Brownies
from my Mom's small Hershey's chocolate cookbook, circa late 1970s/early 1980s
with a few small adaptations by yours truly

1/2 cup melted butter
1 cup sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
2 eggs
1/2 cup flour
1/3 cup cocoa (I like Valrhona or Ghiradelli, but Hershey's is just dandy)
1/4 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
1 tsp. espresso powder (optional)
as many chocolate chips, chunks, or discs as you want to toss in

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

I melt the butter in my 8 inch square baking dish as the oven heats up. Once it's melted, I combine it with the sugar and vanilla in a medium bowl--stir by hand, with a spoon or spatula, until combined. Next, add the eggs, and once they're incorporated, add the dry ingredients and stir until just combined. Add chocolate bits if you'd like, pour into the pan (which is already greased from melting the butter in it--how clever is that?) Pop the pan into the oven and bake for about 20 minutes, until the center is just set.

* I suspect you could mix the whole business in the baking dish if you wanted to save a dirty bowl--my Moosewood 6-Minute Chocolate cake can be mixed in the pan to no ill effect.*

How simple! And how impressive and delicious they are a la mode or naked, with an icy glass of milk or a steamy mug of coffee.

Won't you give them a try instead of reaching for a box if you're a box brownie fan?

daily bliss: pizza party

In H and J's cheery kitchen, presiding over pizza

I see that this is my third pizza themed daily bliss post...seems this simple food brings much joy to my life! Tonight I joined friends T and J at H and J's home for a little make your own pizza party. We created pizzas and took turns slipping them into the oven until at least 10:00 p.m., sampling small wedges throughout the night, washed down with Nero d'Avolo and Syrah and an abundance of laughter. As the evening wound down, we discussed gardening and summer plans--too much to report in this post, and some exciting new ventures on the horizon for dharmagirl!

My favorite two pizzas of the evening featured, inexplicably, potatoes. Not just any potatoes, but creamy organic potatoes from T and J's large garden. One was a Greek creation, with oregano, olives, and feta, and the other was a swoon-inducing creation with rosemary, pancetta, and rosemary. T made the pancetta from pigs raised by his friends, pigs that lead happy lives, he assured me. I selected the slice with just a hint of pancetta, but the smoky sweetness permeated the whole pizza with glorious flavor, and I enjoyed every single bite without a smidgen of vegetarian guilt.


pancetta + potatoes= perfect pizza

daily bliss: latte art

I'm tempted to mess with the date on this post to make it look like I wrote it Thursday night since yesterday was my first missed day since I began daily bliss over a month and a half ago! Here's my excuse..I was in bed, reading a foodie novel, *Entertaining Disaster,* when I realized that I hadn't posted. My trusty iBook was already asleep...and it seemed a shame to awaken it.

So, a post for yesterday...latte art. Here's a view of today's large, non-fat honey latte from Alterra Coffee in Milwaukee. Gorgeous and delicious. A little flourish of aesthetics that made me smile even brighter on a happy afternoon spent out-of-town.

daily bliss: mr. darcy

dharmagirl with Mr. Darcy, pink Ph. D. graduation party, August 2003, Auburn, Alabama


The fog has lifted and the cold has descended. My Mom and I were emailing today about a general crankiness that can only be blamed on winter weariness. My patience has worn thin, and believe me, some of my students require overflowing patience. My zeal to accomplish anything more than the daily minimum has evaporated. My craving for delicious Dorie treats has increased along with the number on the scale, which I'm trying to decrease through greater discipline and control.

Is pinning all my hope on Spring and sunshine and blossoms to right the balance ludicrous?

I would argue no.

Irrational, perhaps, at this moment when Spring is still a month away.

And so, my friends, the answer is simple: FITZWILLIAM DARCY, as portrayed by one COLIN FIRTH.

Six hours of searing looks and battles with control and chaos.

Oh yeah.

daily bliss: fog horn

Now, a gray-white, rainy, foggy day is miserable sandwiched between a winter storm and another cold snap. As my friend B. said today, we wouldn't mind the damp fogginess if we we're in Seattle because, well, we'd have much better food (and coffee). But, we're here in NE Wisconsin at the end of a long winter. The only highlight of a foggy day is the steadying rhythm of the fog horn blowing through the mist, warning ships approaching the harbor (not that there are many ships this time of year). That sound echoes deep within my bones, and drives me to moor myself on the couch with a fat novel and a hot drink, dissolving the fog into another kind of oblivion.

twd: chai spice custard

I almost sat this one out, as the most repeated word describing Lemon Cup Custards in the P&Q section of the TWD website was "eggy."

I've been experiencing egg issues. Namely, as a vegetarian the more I think about eating eggs, the weirder it seems. The last two times I've made veggie scrambles, I've been a little put off by the egginess. Now, I'd never stop using eggs in baking, but to eat a dish that is primarily "eggy," well, that's a point of contention right now. I hate to give up quiches and frittatas and such glorious, nutritious, protein-packed dishes, but if I can't overcome my aversion, they may go the way of all the other delicious foods like ham and bacon...

But I digress. After sitting out last week, I felt a gaping hole in my kitchen. It just wasn't the same without TWD participation! And so, I bravely set forth to make the custards, choosing chai spices--cinnamon, vanilla, cardamom, allspice, and black pepper--to overwhelm any possible "egginess." I used 2% milk to lighten these up a bit, and steeped it with one cinnamon stick, a small chunk of vanilla bean--split and scraped, several green cardamom pods, a few allspice berries, and a few whole tellicherry black pepper corns. I didn't measure the spices but tossed them in randomly. As I whisked the eggs and sugar, a fleck of egg flew off my whisk and landed on my face, much to my amusement... I worried that the custard would scramble, but I did a fine job of tempering the eggs, and the custard was smooth and silky. I made a half recipe, which fit into 4 small ramekins. Nestled in their bain marie, they cooked in 40 minutes.

This morning I tested one small bite, concerned that the chai spices would be too subtle...rather, they're *almost* too strong. the custard has a taut skin, and a creamy voluptuousness. I don't catch any pronounced egginess, but with one small bite it's hard to tell. This recipe was utter simplicity to make, and a versatile canvas to paint with any creative flavorings.

Thank you, Bridget, of The Way the Cookie Crumbles, for this week's selection. You'll find Dorie's recipe on her blog. For other eggy tales, check out the rest of the TWD bakers!

daily bliss: signs of spring

This morning I trudged through 6+ inches of snow where sidewalks hadn't yet been shoveled, giddy because the snow that had made me so SHOUTY yesterday was transformed into a sparkly wrap that was quickly giving way to the sun's persistent rays. In fact, at the end of my walk I had unzipped my down coat, my fleece coat, and my thermal zip t-neck. I carried my gloves in one hand and unwound my scarf from my neck as the sun warmed the side of my face.

Perfect V's of geese honked loudly as they flew North, a single sea gull's cry filled the air, and tree buds outnumbered icy drops on tree branches.

daily bliss: cornbread

Friday H. and I walked for 3.5 miles in light layers, soaking up the sunshine, glimpsing green grass under all the snowmelt, and slipping through standing water and mud.

Today the wind has been hollering for hours, the ice and sleet turned to all snow this afternoon, and about 6 new inches are draped over trees, porches, driveways, like a suffocating shroud (I realize this simile is not only hyperbolic but also redundant).

This snow is making me surly and SHOUTY.

To alleviate the aforementioned negative emotions, I turned to an old favorite: Cornbread, Southern style, cooked in a Lodge cast iron skillet.

I use my Mom's recipe, which she copied from the local newspaper years ago when they ran a feature on Southern cooking. As I've mentioned before, I lived in the South--Auburn, Alabama and Carrollton, Georgia, to be precise--for seven years during my doctoral program and my first job. And, although I grew up in the Midwest and have since returned, my Southern roots go much deeper--my Mom's parents moved to Michigan from Arkansas in the 1950s, but the South always loomed large in our foodways, conversation, and mythology. Cornbread is a staple around our homes.

CORNBREAD
I generally halve this recipe, since I have a smallish--6 inch, I believe--skillet.

2 c. cornmeal (regular, not stone-ground. I tried that once and, well, it had an odd texture and taste)
1/2 c. flour
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
2 c. buttermilk
2 eggs
4 TBS canola oil

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Pour the oil in the skillet and place in the oven while you quickly mix up the rest of the batter. Don't forget about the oil in the oven, and don't leave it too long either or you'll have a situation on your hands...

Mix together the dry ingredients. Make a little well in the center; crack in the eggs into the well and beat lightly. Pour in the buttermilk, and whisk the batter together until just combined. Pour in the hot oil, stir to combine, pour batter in the hot pan, and place in the oven. Bake for about 20 minutes, or until the center is set and the edges just start to brown. Remove the pan from the oven, tip the bread out onto a plate, and cut into wedges. Slather with butter and enjoy the steamy, creamy interior and the crisp edges. If you're part yankee like I am, you may also like your cornbread drizzled with maple syrup.



Tonight I skipped the butter and topped my split cornbread with a quick "stew" of fire roasted tomatoes, black eyed peas, seasoned with carrot, onion, celery, garlic, red pepper flakes, and bay leaves. Delicious, different, and hearty for a night when winter's dancing around outdoors.

(and, as a side note, I apologize for yesterday's incredibly lame post. no inspiration other than the lingering effects from the day's conference=less than stellar topic).

daily bliss: synergy

Okay, I know synergy is one of those hackneyed corporate phrases, but it nicely expresses what happens when my colleagues and I from across the state gather together. today we had a min-conference to discuss strategies for engaging students, especially first year students. At these events, ideas are shared, connections are made, and possibilities are celebrated. It's a nice escape from the tiny little bubble that forms over my campus, and a good reminder that positive energy can flow from many sources.

daily bliss: thaw

This morning my neighbor and I spent over an hour chipping away at the inches of melting ice lining the driveway. By this afternoon, the sidewalks were filled with water, glorious water, left behind as the ice and snow melted under 40+ degree sunshine.

Trees ache to bud, bushes arch forth with new growth, and the scent of mud promises rebirth.

daily bliss: quiet

Not silence, but quiet. A little classical music on in the background. No appliances whirling, no phones ringing. A gentle breeze outside. A stillness of thoughts inside.

The sounds of near silence.

daily bliss: hot showers

Unless I was huddled in my office, I was freezing at work today, which makes no sense because it was actually in the 30s outside. Then again, in a moment of exasperation with wool and tights, I wore a short sleeve cotton dress with regular hose, a cardigan, and jean jacket. Hmm. When I arrived home I quickly hit the shower to warm up and stop the shivers. A bath would be better, but, alas, that is the one failing of my adorable home. A too hot shower (my dry skin is now itchy) in clouds of lavender warmed me to the very core.

daily bliss: birthday blessings

with the sign my hipster friends made for me at work--"it is your birthday"--from the episode of the office in which dwight and jim take over the party planning.

Today I turned 35.

I've been agonizing over this seemingly significant number for the past month.

One of my students today said "tick tock" when she found out how old I am.

But, after a splendid weekend with my family and a fabulous day with friends, I'm no longer worried about numbers or clocks.

Instead, I'm grateful for all of the love and support in my life that's so easy to take for granted.

I thank my parents for all of their gifts--how much of my life I owe to them is immeasurable.

I thank my brother for keeping me grounded, and always trying to teach my to take life a little easier than is my nature.

To my Grandma C. for always singing happy birthday every year, no matter how far away I am.

For my Aunt B. and my cousins N, F, A, and S for sending me packages of girly delights and always being up for American Girl movies or trips out in Lake Michigan in inflatable boats whenever I'm in Michigan.

To my bestest friends S and H, whose voices on my answering machine and warm emails are a constant source of energy. The fact that we've been friends for half of our lives steadies me.

To my new blogger friends--your kind comments about our shared interests of food and fellowship make this whole enterprise of writing online worthwhile.

To all of my facebook friends and students who left posts on my wall and shouted greetings in the hallway, your spirit and kindness makes me remember why I do what I do.

To my coworkers/colleagues/friends and neighbors--thank you for helping me make Wisconsin home. Your willingness to be silly with me, to listen to me vent frustration, to dance to 70s music in the hallways, and to create a light and learned atmosphere makes every day a joy.

How can I possibly feel sad or stressed about the uncertain future and my untrodden path when this very moment is filled with so many blessings?

Thank you for the reminder today. I'll try to remember everyday. Thank you for reading:)


wearing the pink birthday apron my mom made for me, whilst drinking pink prosecco

twd: chocolate armagnac cake (the cake that got dorie fired!)

No chocolatey, boozy, pruney cake for me this week...

I had visitors this weekend (my family) who brought cake (for my birthday) and so I'm going to enjoy reading about everyone else's cakes and eating my birthday cake, a deconstructed German Chocolate Cake from the yellow Gourmet tome.

Please check out the TWD site for the list of illustrious and intrepid bakers, and especially LyB of And Then I Do the Dishes, who chose this week's recipe.

daily bliss: rice for breakfast

When I was little, sometimes Mom would fix rice for breakfast. Some days I would top it with butter, salt, and pepper, for a savory start, but mostly I'd use brown sugar and butter because I like a sweet note first thing in the morning. Last night I made a big pot of brown basmati rice, and this morning I substituted rice for my usual oats. With a little cinnamon, brown sugar, pecans, and dried cherries, it made a delicious and hearty beginning on this cold morning, too cold to run. Will Spring every come?

daily bliss: visitors

My parents and brother drove all the way to Wisconsin to share a pre-birthday dinner with me. Although they were here less than 24 hours, their visit was full and rich with conversation, laughter, fun, food, and love. As hard as it is to say goodbye after a brief visit, it's so wonderful to have that time to share together. Who else truly understands my range of emotions--so happy with my family all gathered in my small home, and so sad and anxious to see them go? Who else but my brother will indulge my silliness and re-enact some of our goofier semi-adult moments (mist-n-go)? Thank you for a lovely birthday gift--your presence:)