Martha vs. the Apples: Round 1

Around this time every year I get overwhelming urges to harvest. Not necessarily because I really want the bounty, but because I'm in love with the idea of the activity. So this past weekend I dragged Beardy up to Kiyokawa Orchard near Hood River so I could spend about 15 minutes walking through the trees, removing the fruit with my own hands. And I would have spent more time doing it, except that in that time I'd already amassed 25 pounds of Golden Delicious apples, and had no real plan in store for them.

Last year I spent about six hours making apple butter, which delivered 3 pints in the end - and although it was delicious, this time around I was looking for a better return for my time. I got a hot tip on some Cheddar-Apple Scones, and wow. They are everything that I hoped they'd be. I'm not even going to bother sharing the recipe here since I followed it exactly from Smitten Kitchen, where it appeared slightly adapted from a book called The Perfect Finish, by White House executive pastry chef Bill Yosses. I've had a copy of this on my desk at work for months, and this recipe proves it warrants a closer look. These scones are the perfect blend of savory and sweet with a crispy-on-the-outside texture. I made three batches of dough, freezing two of them to bake later. Genius tip. So, that took care of three pounds.

Project #2: Applesauce. I've never delved into the sauce before, mainly because I didn't have a food mill. I took this opportunity to pick one up. I wanted to can it so I vowed to make a ton. I recently spent an evening making and canning salsa verde to emerge from the process with one lousy pint. Never again. If I am canning, there is going to be formidable volume. So, I tripled a recipe I found in my new go-to canning book, Put 'em Up, and started with 9 lbs. of apples and ended up with about six pints. This recipe was easy, especially appealing because it didn't involve peeling the fruit. And it's good. Real good.

Homemade Applesauce (super-sized from Put 'em Up)

1 1/2 cups water
6 T bottled lemon juice
9 lbs apples, cored but not peeled (I used Golden Delicious)
1/4 cup sugar
1 T cinnamon

Mix the water and lemon juice, and pour it into the biggest pot you've got. Core the apples, and coarsely chop them, adding them to the pot with the lemon water as you go, so the apples don't get brown. Heat on medium high, until the apples are bubbling vigoriously, then simmer until tender, stirring frequently. Pass the mixture through a food mill, then return to heat and add the sugar and cinnamon. Stir until sugar is dissolved, and remove from heat. This is where I canned the sauce, using the boiling-water method, but it's good in the fridge for five days, and frozen for up to six months. If going that route, allow the sauce to cool before refrigerating/freezing.

Twelve pounds of apples down, thirteen left staring me in the face. Thinking there's some frozen pie filling and spicy chutney in my future. Stay tuned. The apples will not win.

Sangria Saturday. And Sunday.

We had a little BBQ yesterday, on one of the few super-hot days we've had all summer. I've vowed to not complain about the stifling heat, since we've been cheated out of a real summer this year (more whining about that here) - so instead, I made Sangria. Problem solved.

I adapted this recipe from one I found on Epicurious, because unfortunately my gathering didn't require a 2-gallon barrel of party punch. I couldn't help but toss in some seasonal fruits, too.

Sangria

3 liters red wine (I bought two 1.5 liter Costco-sized bottles of Shiraz)
3/4 cup brandy (I used Apple Jack)
1 quarts orange juice
1 cups lemon juice
1/2 cup superfine sugar
1 quart chilled club soda
2 oranges
1 lemons
2 limes
2 plums
1 pint blackberries (Hey, why not?)

Pour the wine and brandy into a large punch bowl, or a couple of large pitchers. I used two big glass containers with lids. Stir orange and lemon juice with the sugar until sugar has dissolved. Then add to bowl/pitchers and stir to blend. Add soda, thinly sliced oranges, lemons, limes, plums and blackberries. I let the mixture sit in the fridge for a couple hours, then ladled it out and served it over ice.

Bye summer. Thanks for stopping by. Briefly.

XOXO PDX

Sometimes work and pleasure overlap, and when they do, it gets posted on the blog. Those are the rules. I made them.

I recently did an interview with Liz Crain, who wrote a little book called the Food Lover's Guide to Portland. Besides making me wish that I'd been clever enough to think of the idea myself, she's a real peach, and was really fun to chat with. Stroll over to Powells.com to read our conversation.

Kitchen Mini-Makeover

I don't know about you, but every couple of months I go through a phase where I loathe all of my material possessions. I despise my wardrobe, glare at my furniture and sometimes make drastic, regrettable hairstyle decisions. Since it's not in my best interests to trade in all my stuff every time I get into one of these tizzies, I throw myself a small bone. Today it was a some kitchen pick-me-ups: some summery pot holders, pretty dish towels and wooden utensils. All of it for under $10, courtesy of those clever Swedes.

Berries: A Pilgrimage.

In an effort to make up for lost time, I went berry picking on Saturday with two of my favorite people at Sauvie Island Farms. I'm going to go ahead and call it an "annual visit" since I've done it twice now. It's a pilgrimage. Technically.

Last year I went a couple weeks earlier, and although the pickin' was a good time, it was work finding the ripe fruit. This year I think we went on the best weekend possible - the early blues were plentiful, and although we were probably a week ahead of optimal marionberry harvesting, we hit the raspberries at their prime. Those little suckers were plump and juicy, just begging to be plucked from their stems. I happily obliged them. Between the three of us, we went home with 22 pounds of fruit, for something like $30. Amazing. Stay tuned for a report on the delicious pie I made from our bounty. One gigantic, 25 pound pie. Just kidding. But not by much.

Never too early for Lipitor.

In news that makes my heart sing but causes my arteries shriek in terror, Pine State Biscuits, the amazing southern sandwich outfit that started out as a vendor at the Portland Farmer's Market, opened up their location on Alberta Street this morning, dangerously close to our house. It's a 6 minute walk. Oh. Shit.

Why all of this cholesterol-related anxiety, you ask? Let me introduce you to the Reggie:

A piece of fried chicken, bacon, a slice of Tillamook cheddar, and homemade sausage gravy in a buttermilk biscuit. I know, it sounds absurd, and it sort of is. But sweet Jesus, is it delicious. I'm not the only person that thinks so - every Saturday the line at the farmer's market is at least 25 people deep, and the sandwich has been featured on the Food Network, in Esquire, etc. And this isn't even the end of the story - you can make your Reggie "deluxe" by adding a fried egg.

The new restaurant space is really well-done, and I'm so excited to add it to my neighborhood loop. Maybe once every two weeks. The 2.5 Reggies per month plan. Good thing it's close to my gym, too. Feel free to hold an intervention if you notice I've transitioned to elastic waistbands and support hose.

Lemon Blueberry Buckle Up

It's been a funny summer here, and by funny, I mean totally lame. Unseasonably cold and wet, by far the most disappointing one since I moved to Portland five years ago. The weathermen called last month "Juneuary." That pretty much sums it up.

Because of this, I haven't been out and about as much as I have in the past, less farmer's markets, no berry picking, and I keep putting my winter clothes away, only to angrily dig them back out again a couple days later. Anyway, in years past I'd spend every weekend whipping up some kind of baked berry goodness, starting with rhubarb in April and chugging along until the last round of blackberries at the end of the summer. But this year, it's like I emerged from my cave and all of a sudden it's blueberry time. Sorry strawberries. See you next year. Maybe.

Today I picked up a couple pints of blueberries from the farmer's market, and made what might be my favorite recipe yet from my stained, sticky copy of Rustic Fruit Desserts: the Lemon Blueberry Buckle. Oh yes. It's everything you'd dare to hope.

Lemon Blueberry Buckle

Crumb topping:
1/2 c flour
1/3 c granulated sugar
pinch salt
zest of 1 lemon
1/4 c butter, room temp, cubed

Cake:
1 1/2 c flour
1 t baking powder
1/4 t baking soda
pinch salt
1/4 t nutmeg
6 T butter, same drill as above
3/4 c granulated sugar
zest of 1 lemon
2 eggs
1/2 c buttermilk (I used heavy whipping cream, it turned out well)
2 cups blueberries, fresh or frozen

Lemon Syrup: (You read that correctly. Lemon. Syrup.)
1/3 c granulated sugar
juice of 2 lemons

Preheat the oven to 350, and butter a 9" baking pan. Make the crumb topping, mixing all of the dry ingredients, then add the butter and mix with your fingers until it's... crumby. Toss it in the freezer.

To make the cake, whisk the dry ingredients together. Using a mixer (paddle attachment if you have it), cream the butter, sugar and eggs, adding them one at a time. Add 1/3 of the flour mixture, then half the cream, repeat, and then toss in the last of the flour. Fold in half of the blueberries, and spread the mixture into the pan. Put the remaining blueberries on top, and then add the crumb topping. Bake for 45 - 50 minutes, until lightly golden - take it out when you can stick a knife in it and it comes out clean.

About ten minutes before you take it out of the oven, mix the lemon juice with the sugar, and heat in a small saucepan on medium until it turns thicker and syrupy. Pour if over the cake right after you take it out of the oven. But wait a few minutes before you lick the syrup out of the pan. A mistake you only make once. Or twice.

I'm alive! And I made some placemats.

Oh hello there! I apologize for my prolonged absence. Instead of delve into an explanation riddled with excuses, I'm going to attempt to distract you with this dazzling picnic placemat. Oooooh! Placemat.

I've been itching to make these since I spotted them awhile ago in one of my favorite sewing books, Simple Sewing by Lotta Jansdotter, and it just so happened that some friends of mine got married last weekend, and they're probably the only people that I know who are cute enough to go on legitimate picnics and actually use these things. Sorry, everyone else, but Nick and Sally take the trophy for unbridled adorableness. They couldn't harness it if they tried.

Anyway, I had a lot of fun making these fabric vehicles of whimsy, and had a good excuse to use more of those Moda 1930's fabrics I'm still enamored with. I'm also pretty excited about the bamboo flatware I found to tuck in the pocket. Seriously. Wooden forks!

And in other crafty news, I'm going to be an aunt in a few months! Prepare to be bombarded with sickeningly cute baby projects. I warned you.

The CSA Challenge

So excited to report that Beard and I signed up for our first CSA! After some intense sleuthing, we decided on Helsing Junction Farms, a Washington operation that offers a nice variety of produce at what seems like a really affordable price. Plus flowers! I've made it my personal mission to come up with MacGyver-esque ways to incorporate all those veggies into my diet. ALL of them. Watch out folks, it might get crazy.

Fabric Flavor of the Week

Generally I'm not really into flowery prints, but I currently can't suppress my desire to hoard these fabrics from Moda: the 1933 line by Chloe's Closet. I'm going through a weird nesting phase where all I want to do is make Little House on the Prairie dresses and knead bread. This too, shall pass.

In other news, I've been sewing up a storm! I've added a couple of bags to my future Etsy arsenal, and I even started making some tank tops! Making something that I'll actual wear is a big milestone for me, even if I'm just wearing them to sleep. I based the tank on a pattern out of the already lauded One Yard Wonders, and this project also marked the first time that I used elastic and made my own bias tape.

I really need to set aside some time to get some lady-friends over here to model my new creations, but until then, please accept my burly substitute. Sorry Beardy. But by trying to prove that you could worm your big man body into my shirt, you brought this upon yourself. (And seriously, look at that pose and tell me his heart wasn't in this.)

Fryed.

Last week I was a little bit devastated when I took my six-year-old Rockport boots to the cobbler, only to find out that my soles were too far gone to repair. As proud as I was that I walked holes into a pair of shoes, there was suddenly a a gigantic void to fill in my wardrobe. Well, I took care of that today. Meet my Frye Harness 12R's in Dark Brown. Been lusting after them for a long time. People swear that you can wear these things for 10 years, and with my history of milking the life out of things, I think it's safe to aim for 15.

Good Lord, Asparagus

Every spring I get so excited about the arrival of new seasonal produce that I tend to overdose on the first ones to sprout up. Last week I found a way to incorporate asparagus into five different dishes, and in addition to being initially alarmed by my toxic smelling pee every single time (too much information?), I had a couple of bad bundles, and was ready to take a break from the Gumby-esque veggies and move on to the next green thing to show up at the farmer's market. That was until I made this recipe for asparagus with brown butter and pine nuts from the new cookbook I'm currently smitten with, Fast, Fresh & Green. Looks like I'll be putting brown butter on everything I eat from now on. Even cereal. Maybe ice cream. My new go-to asparagus recipe:

Asparagus with Brown Butter & Pine Nuts

2 1/2 t kosher salt
1 bunch asparagus (cut into sharply angled 2-inch pieces)
2 T unsalted butter
1/3 cup pine nuts
1 t fresh lemon juice
fresh ground black pepper

Bring a salted pot of water to boil, toss in asparagus pieces and let them cook for 3 minutes. Drain, and spread pieces on a towel in an effort to lose excess water. Melt the butter in a large frying pan over low heat, add the pine nuts and 1/4 t salt, stirring constantly until the butter turns a nutty brown color. The butter turns quickly, abort the mission and start over if it turns black.

Remove the pan from the heat, and add the asparagus and 1/4 t salt. Toss, sprinkle with lemon juice, and season with the fresh pepper. Prepare to begin a love affair with asparagus that could last through July. Green beans, you'll have to wait your turn.

Goodbye, You Magnificent Beast.

Tomorrow morning a tow truck is scheduled to come take away the '93 Chevy Corsica that I've driven for 12 years, that up until a week ago, was the only car I'd ever owned. My parents bought it as a "third family vehicle" shortly after I got my driver's license. It would later come with me to college, then move with me out West, where it's been my whip here in Portland for the last five years.

Honestly, I never really drove it all that much, especially recently. I'm a fairly avid cyclist and only put 60K miles on the car that whole time, and it has less than 90K on it now. Even so, the old bird is starting to show her age. Idiosyncrasies that were tolerable for years, like the puddles that accumulate on the floorboards every winter, those reservoirs that swish around with every turn and require me to roll up my pants before entering, are no longer cute. Having the attendant at the gas station tell me that my gas tank cover is flapping in the wind every_single_time I go to fill up got kind of old. Plus it leaks oil, hasn't had a radio in four years, and every six months some part of the undercarriage has to be replaced because the car's tenure in the Midwest left behind a formidable layer of rust that eats through everything in its path. It simply was the CorsiCar's time, not that it hasn't faced its mortality before. Twice someone took off the driver's side mirror. Once the turn signal snapped off, with my lights stuck on bright, late at night when I had 50 miles to go to get back to my college dorm after a weekend back home. I didn't make any friends that evening. Another time some wires shorted out in my steering column, which caused smoke to billow out of it, unless I was trying to show someone, in which case it failed to occur.

I know that it's not realistic to expect to drive your early 90's GM sedan for your entire life, nor is it optimal. But nonetheless, I find myself sitting here, getting sentimental, unable to shake the feeling that I just put Old Yeller down. I have an arsenal of memories associated with that car, and in some instances, it was even a minor character in the stories that unfolded around it. I clearly remember driving through purple mountains in southwestern Montana at dusk, alone, headed to live in Oregon, a place I'd never been and where I didn't really know anyone. It seems kind of silly to say, but it was almost comforting to have that car along with me - I think it made a big change seem less terrifying. Or maybe it just aided an unhealthy case of denial. Either way - thanks, old girl. Things worked out OK, you must have known what you were doing.

But nothing gold can stay, Bluey, and our time together must come to a close. (Can you tell I've been watching a lot of Six Feet Under?) I decided to donate the car to Oregon Public Broadcasting, as an alternative to lying awake at night, wondering if whoever paid me $300 for it survived their trip to the grocery store without the rusted brake lines snapping. A couple weeks ago Beard and I found a 2002 Impreza Sport wagon in great shape, and welcomed it into our little Subaru fleet, now two strong.

Don't get cocky, new car. Even though you're shiny and zippy and impeccably clean, you've got big moldy shoes to fill. I'll start taking you seriously around the six-year mark.

I encourage anyone who has a CorsiCar memory to share it in the comments below. Godspeed, blue bomber. You made us all proud.

Martha-made Marketplace

Martha Zinger Etsy shop, even though you currently only exist in the winding portals of my mind, consider yourself stocked. With... one bag. I'm aiming to start peddling my wares sometime this summer, which means I should probably kick my production schedule into high gear. Something tells me that my one-item-every-six-weeks average isn't conducive to achieving the sort of DIY domination I dream of.

Bag number one was adapted from a project included in this dandy book.

Food. Asian Food.

Hey, have I mentioned that I recently went on a trip to Southeast Asia? Yes? Many times? OK. Just let me tell you about what I put in my face while I was there. Then I'll stop. Maybe.

I know it will make me sound like a silly Westerner, but I think the most satisfying meal I had on the trip was Pad Thai that I bought from a street vendor on Khao San Road in Bangkok. I picked out the variety of noodle and ingredients I wanted (chicken, eggs, and shrimp were the options, I went with the first two) and then watched as the street chef tossed it all together over the skillet with some mystery sauce. I grinned like a shithead while she handed it to me, seasoned it to my liking with crushed peanuts and red pepper flakes, then I plopped down on a curb behind her cart, and commenced shoving it into my face, until it was gone. I wake up in the night, thinking about that meal.

It's probably no surprise that the pho in Vietnam ruined me for all future stateside beef noodle soup encounters. And what's sad is I think even Vietnam's fast pho beat out my hometown standby. But the version that all others will from now on fall short of came from a little place called Pho Gia, just a couple blocks away from where we were staying. The broth was fragrant, the noodles were wide and homemade, the beef tender, the veggies fresh... OH MY GOD I WANT SOME NOW. Pho is actually breakfast in Vietnam, which meant that I usually accompanied it with a Cafe Sua da - some high-octane French coffee cut with sweetened condensed milk, over ice. After the first one I was convinced I'd left my body. (There was some jet lag involved, too.)

In Vietnam, the pho certainly stole the show in my eyes, but I can't write a post about food and not mention the elephant ear fish that I had at a home stay in the Mekong Delta. Extra points for presentation.

So. Confession time. I didn't give Malaysia a fair shake when it came to their native cuisine. I ate at Pizza Hut. Twice. In my defense, I also climbed a mountain there. Which is my default excuse for a lot of questionable Borneo behavior. Like mixing Chinese cooking liquor with Coke, referring to it as "shandy" and drinking it almost every evening because we didn't realize it was... Chinese cooking liquor. Did I mention I climbed a mountain? Yep, totally playing the mountain card.

But as hard as I tried to evade any hint of culture, I managed to stumble upon a traditional Malaysian breakfast: Laksa. Not to be outdone by the Vietnamese in the breakfast department, the fine people of Borneo start the day with this spicy peanut soup with chicken, shrimp, and rice noodles. And that black thing in the background is iced coffee, sans condensed milk. Get it with milk.

OK, here I am, still talking - but there's so much more I haven't even touched on! Like the inch-think pancake in Koh Lanta with the bananas inside, and the smoothies! The pomelo and jackfruit, the red bean ice cream! Not to mention the fantastic Indian food I had in Saigon, and the curries in Thailand! I could go on and on. But I'll do my best to stop. Or at least mix it up a bit. No promises.

Gigantic Trip Recap. Buckle Up.

It's unfortunate, how quickly you readjust to your routine after returning from being away. I got back to Portland after spending over three weeks in Southeast Asia and already it seems like it all happened to someone else, a long time ago. Just ten days ago, I was on top of a mountain in Borneo! And today I fiddled around on a computer, assembling a marketing plan for the next fiscal year. Such is life, I suppose.

In addition to looking at my photos three times a day, I hope that blogging about my adventure might just help me cling to its fleeting magic. So, indulge me, while I share some highlights. (But I should note, there were many highlights.)

We started in Vietnam, where we lucky enough to have amazing hosts and guides in our friends Mike and Karinna, who in addition to looking ridiculously cute in their pointy hats, have been living in Saigon for almost two years. We arrived during the middle of the Tet celebration, which meant that many businesses were closed. Being there during their most revered holiday had its perks, like a slightly slower city pulse and some elaborate one-time-a-year flower displays.

After a few days exploring Saigon, we left on a 2 day trip to Ben Tre, a city to the south nestled in the Mekong River Delta. We hopped on a slow boat with Hai, our guide, and stopped often - to visit a traditional brick factory, eat tropical fruit, ride bikes through the complex network of sidewalk-sized "roads" through the delta, eat an amazing 5 course lunch (more on that in a later post, dedicated solely to food), a stop at a coconut candy factory and the Vinh Trang pagoda.

From Vietnam we'd planned to fly to Bangkok, but when all four of us got to the airport we were rejected because Beardy only had a couple months left on his passport, and in order to not be held liable for him incase Thailand wouldn't take him, the airline wouldn't let him go. He also woke up that day with a really nasty case of food poisoning. To make a long story less long, he got the Visa, but had to wait over the weekend. I went to Bangkok, where between massages I wandered Khao San Road eating just about anything a vendor tried to get me to buy. And without question it was the best food I had on the whole trip. (Food post! Coming soon.)

Thailand has perfected the art of making its guests feel OK about partaking in a bit of gluttony. Amazing beaches are provided for your slothing pleasure, the food delicious, the people predominantly charming, and should you decide you'd like to drag your sorry ass off your beach towel, there are tons of activities that fit the bill. I could definitely spent more time in Thailand. After they sort our that whole political unrest thing.

Then! Beard flew home, and to Borneo I went. I met up with a fabulous lady crew and we spent two days climbing to the top of Mt. Kinabalu, the highest point in all of southeast Asia with a summit at 13,000 feet, which I reached in time to watch the sunrise. Although afterward I would have qualified for a walker and could have developed an unwieldy addiction to prescription strength painkillers, which coincidentally are sold at any old 7-11 over there... I am so glad I climbed that mountain... in Borneo. For the win.

I'm tired. Are you still reading this? If so, that's very kind. Or maybe you're lonely? Or are you trying to fall asleep yourself? It's OK. I'm pretty much done. After the mountain, I found a beach, curled up in the fetal position there - wait, actually, I couldn't bend my legs, so it was probably more like corpse pose. Yes, I assumed corpse pose, with a book, on Mamutik island. After some beach camping I treated myself to a fancy hotel, and went to the most amazing night market. Then I began my long journey back to Portland.

Thanks for playing. You're an incredibly good sport. It's good to be home.

What the pho?

Vietnam, you are wild. It's been a week now, and my experiences here have ranged from the amazing, like this photo of the best pho anyone will ever eat in their lifetime - to the baffling - What do you mean, we can't get on this plane to Thailand because Beardy's passport expires in three months? We wanted a genuine experience, and we're getting it. In the meantime, I guess we'll just have to wait for the appropriate paperwork and eat more amazing pho. Oh! And let's not forget about those ridiculous little croissants filled with ham and cheese. Thank you, France. And Thailand, you're going to have to try harder than this to keep me out. I'm coming for you.

Gooooood Morning Vietnam Wallet

If you've been within earshot of me any time within the last six months, chances are you've heard me yammering on about the trip I'm about to embark on. Next week I'm headed to Southeast Asia to visit some friends and will spend 3 1/2 weeks traveling in Vietnam, Thailand, and Borneo.

One could say I enjoy planning. A lot. I tend to get fixated on and consumed by these things I'm organizing, and even start planning trips that will occur after the one I'm about to take. (Colorado this summer, anyone?) So it's not surprising that my planning works its influence into my other projects (which also require planning). Hence, the travel wallet. I actually made this for my friend, who I'll be meeting up with in Borneo. See you soon, Linds! You'll have a wallet for the last week of your 3-month trip. How convenient. I am so good at planning.

I found the project in a book called Sew & Stow, which features some really great ideas for bags, wallets, and other organization-focused items. I've reached a point in my seamstress journey that I'm really excited about: I can improvise and the result doesn't look completely bush league. In this instance, I added some fusible interfacing, and instead of using bias tape around the edges, I sort of made my own by folding and pressing some material that I used for the inside of the wallet. I also included a zippered pocket, and velcro! Which was referred to in the book as "hook and loop fastener," which confused the hell out of me until I gave in and googled. I'm still working on stitching straight and making sure things line up, but am really pleased about how the basics are becoming easier, and my ability to troubleshoot has improved. Or started to exist.

I take off for Vietnam on Thursday, and get back March 8th. Eeeee! It's all suddenly very real. I'm going to do my best to post some updates from the road, and look forward to sharing some stories about the street food and the markets and the... street food! And hopefully won't have any anecdotes about getting dysentery and being airlifted back to the U.S. or bribing my way out of a Thai prison. Ha! Just kidding Mom. That stuff never happens. Really.

Wish me luck!

Sins of the fork.

In a move that I'm sure will deeply bewilder my family, I recently emerged from 21 days of self-imposed dietary restrictions. After an especially gluttonous holiday, (who am I kidding, it was 3 months of food-related transgressions) I was in need of some hardcore detox. Pants were snug, energy levels were low, and my face seemed... poofy. So for about 3 weeks, I slowly took away food groups that were living like renegades at the bottom of my very naughty food pyramid. Week One saw the omission of meat and caffeine. Week Two I took away dairy and sugar. (Gasp!) And week three saw a half-assed attempt at eliminating gluten. I lasted about 36 hours.

It's true, for about two weeks I was a sort-of-vegan, and then some. I put rice milk on gluten-free cereal. I ate a shitload of spinach. I said no to donuts, avoided tacos and passed on my beloved Stumptown brew, opting for tea, instead. Tea that tastes like grass. That means it's healthy. (Dear God, it better be healthy.)

Eating in this way takes some careful planning (and a lot of self-loathing) and at the start there were about three food items in my house that fit the criteria of my new plan. I blew the dust off my Moosewood cookbook, and planned myself some veggie-heavy, meat-free, nondairy meals. And surprisingly, they didn't taste like... veggie-heavy, meat-free, nondairy meals.

Of them, the tastiest surprise was this Cajun Skillet Beans recipe. I was so impressed, it's earned a spot in my regular roster. (Recipe below.)

I ended my little food experiment this week, and even though I don't harbor plans to become a full-time vegan, I'm far more conscientious about what it is that I'm shoving into my face. It was a much needed reboot, that provided some valuable perspective. I'm happy to report that my average scone-per-day quota has fallen dramatically, and I think twice about eating a block of aged Gouda for dinner. I think I might be turning into... a grown up. One who's out to show her metabolism who's boss.

Cajun Skillet Beans (adapted from the previously mentioned Moosewood cookbook.)

1 onion, chopped
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 T olive oil
3 celery stalks, chopped
2 red bell peppers, chopped
1/2 t dried thyme
1 t dried basil
1/2 t dried oregono
1/4 t ground black pepper
pinch of cayenne
pinch of salt
2 cups chopped tomatoes
2 T honey
1 T Dijon mustard
4 cups black-eyed peas (two 16-oz cans)
chopped green onions

In your biggest skillet, saute the onions and garlic in the oil over medium heat. Chop the celery and bell peppers, add them to the pan. Cook for another 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the thyme, basil, oregano, pepper, cayenne and salt. Cover and cook for 5 minutes, until the onions are golden. Add the tomatoes, honey, and mustard, and simmer 5 more minutes. Add the beans, cover, and stir occasionally until thoroughly heated, about 10 minutes. Top with the green onions. I served it over rice, but honestly, it's just as good without it.

It's official. I'm a seamstress!

I have a tendency to enthusiastically decide to learn a new skill, become obsessed with the new skill, then fail to fully cultivate said skill. Take for instance the web design course I took this fall. Here we are, six months later, and I have yet to build and relocate this blog to the Wordpress site of my dreams. And my college minor in German. Oh, and that grant writing class. I've written tons of grants. That's a lie.

But this instance, I've outsmarted my own tendencies, and followed through. After months of messing around with aprons, and totes and curtain hems, I hereby proclaim that I have graduated from Sewing 101, and have achieved intermediate status. Behold, the purse:

This masterpiece combined a variety of elements that I'd never encountered: like fusible interfacing. You should have seen the look I got at the snooty fabric shop when I asked about it. Well, snooty fabric ladies, look at my adorable fricking purse. That's what I thought. I also inserted my first magnetic closure, my first non-ghetto liner, some pleats, and performed some crazy inside-out flipping action. I found the pattern in a new book called One Yard Wonders that I'm looking forward to exploring further.









So what's next? I've got a wallet in the works, and I can't wait to dive into this one. Advanced intermediate level, here I come.