Dinner With Cara....

There is always something to do. There are hungry people to feed, naked people to clothe, sick people to comfort and make well. And while I don't expect you to save the world I do think it's not asking too much for you to love those with whom you sleep, share the happiness of those whom you call friend, engage those among you who are visionary and remove from your life those who offer you depression, despair and disrespect.”

― Nikki Giovanni

This summer I have been experimenting with roast chicken.  I found it surprisingly easy to fix and a wonderful treat for The Farmer and I each week.  With fresh rosemary from our yard and delicious organic Washington raised chicken, I began to relish the routine of making our roast chicken and filling the kitchen with the aroma of rosemary and lemon.  Not only was it healthy, but the fat from the crispy skin was also comforting and essential to start the healing process for my troubled tummy.  It is impossible for me to refrain from nibbling between the time the chicken comes out (quality control!) and The Farmer gets home.  He often asks, jokingly," where do you purchase these wingless birds?".

This weekend was to be no exception to the rule.  I did my Sunday shopping and was excited about raising my culinary skills with the help of my friend (albeit imaginary) Alice Waters and her book  "The Art of Simple Food" which reads more like a lovely book than a recipe book, my favorite kind.  Alice suggests such wonderful things as putting garlic and rosemary under the skin of the chicken, and turning the chicken every 20 minutes.  My previous roasted chickens had been savory, but efficient.  This was to be a labor of love, executed first thing Monday morning so that The Farmer and I could have it for Monday's dinner, part of our weekly ritual.

Except...there was an exception.  Late Sunday night I received the sad and heavy news that a dear friend, Cara, had passed away.  In her early forties, the passing of this life came as a shock and a sorrow.  Although Cara and I grew up in the small town of Spencer, West Virginia I never actually met her or had any memory of her.  I met her two years ago on Facebook and ironically, it was there that we forged a deep friendship. We encountered each other first on a mutual friend's timeline and soon became fast friends. Although it was  in virtual time,  the connection never lacked substance.  We eventually enjoyed more private interactions via private message and phone (Cara:  "See, I don't have a West Virginia accent"   Me:  "oh Cara", as I try to stifle my giggles)

While Cara, and other Spencer friends were sitting down to dinner, I was in the midst of what is known as the "witching hour" to most mothers of young children still at home. That time between the fatigue of the day and the relief that bedtime brings. It can be a very lonely and frustrating time of day. I would post something about the children,  but generally what I was fixing for dinner, on Facebook.  For the next few hours I could count on a dialogue with Cara that was both a welcome diversion and a satisfying exchange of humor and ideas.   It was not unusual for a few cyber friends to join us and the silliness that would ensue was just as warm and welcoming as if we were all in the same room.

Cara would be finishing up her work day and as a fellow foodie loved swapping conversation about what was being cooked and eaten.  Her companionship came at a time that I was watching my marriage fall apart and having the connection with her each day made that loss more easy to bear.   As our friendship deepened we often talked about what we would do when I visited Spencer again.  We joked about pizza and beer, but I knew in my heart that I would want to make her a good meal, the kind that would nurture her spirit and her belly.

This morning my heart weighs heavy with the thought that we will never have that meal. We had so many virtual dinners, though, settling in on our couches through Winter's drear, accompanied by our fellow introverts.  It will be a while before I am able, in the rainy blanket of mid-winter Seattle, to make my standard "Comfy pants, STAT!" status update.  It was a joy we both shared, donning our elastic waist pants and sitting down to "chat" each evening.  She was always the first to respond to that update.

In the shroud of that heaviness I remember that I have a family to feed today.   I am sloth with grief and shock.  How can I?   I do not know how I can possibly peel the garlic that Alice recommends, deal with the task of doing this thing that I know will soothe my spirit, but also open up my grieving.   Yes, it will open up my grieving and it will also be a gift to Cara, that meal I will not get to make for her.

I force myself out the door and into the brightness of the day.  It is too bright.  Too loud.  But it is where the rosemary is and I need it to do justice to the memory of my friend.  I pray that none of my neighbors comes out and asks me how I am, because I know I will weep if they do.  Thankfully I go unnoticed (Cara would appreciate this sentiment I know).  In the solitude of my little kitchen, (with Ruby Gloom occupying This Boy and That Girl) I get to the business of soul soothing.

I peel the garlic that The Farmer grew in our garden.  It is succulent and the aromas open up my senses while sadness washes over me.  I invite my friend Alice Waters into the kitchen for companionship, guidance and clarity. The instructions seem hard to read, but I know this is the weight of grief.  The task of peeling the garlic seems too much, but not for a good friend.  Per Alice's instructions I slice it thickly and put it under the skin of the  chicken.  The rosemary follows, and then an abundance of pure olive oil, kosher salt, and fresh ground pepper.  It IS that labor of love and when I am done my heartache is palpable and raw.  Yet, I feel that I have done something worthwhile in the memory of my friend.

That Girl comes into the kitchen as I am about to put the chicken in the oven.  It is adorned with the rosemary and the smells have filled up our small kitchen.  "Mama, it's beautiful!" she exclaims.  "Will you teach me how to do that when I am older?" she inquires.  I well up...choke back some tears, nodding "Of course sweet pea".  The moment, the precious moment.  It is all we ever have and for that time it is full of grace, bittersweet and still brimming with possibility.

I flee to the bathroom for a tissue, to escape, to be unseen.  The smell of rosemary, lemon, and garlic waft after me, pursue me,  find me and it is then that I begin to really cry.  Those smells so comforting, so warm, such a comfort. This is the life that grief takes...it redefines simple pleasures, simple food,  simple rituals like "Comfy pants, STAT!" .. it has its own life, its own plan and knocks us off our feet when we have our guard down.  

It is then that the gravity of what I have done, becomes sheer and bright to me. I shall, from this time forward always pair those smells, this ritual,  this simple task, with the memory of my beloved friend Cara, and the dinner we never got to share.  Godspeed Cara.

More will be revealed.....

You Can Wrap a Pig in a Blanket....

It's that time of year when we expect winter to be done.  We long for it to be done and here in the Pacific Northwest we do crazy things like wear flip flops and shorts when the sun comes out and the temperature breeches 45.  It is our way of saying, we are ready for something new, fresh...unexpected.  This morning, unexpected came in the form of snow, the seals barking excitedly in the darkness of the early morning, as if to say "Look, look!  The groundhog was right!"

In these last winding days of winter, as I wait in expectation, trying to observe some Lenten practice that holds me through the tiring darkness, my thoughts of course go to food.  It seems that when the cold weather first comes, I celebrate!  I make my first pot of chili, enjoy the tart sweetness of seasonal pears, and reach for a robust red wine in place of my favored light  pinot gris.   Somewhere, in the celebration of Thanksgiving and Advent the rituals of winter eating become rote.  The green earthy smells of fresh chard, the endless variations of weekly soup pots, lentils, lentils and more lentils become less endearing as we ring in the New Year. I begin to tire of the food, more than the darkness and the weather.

Or perhaps I tire of them both and it is this fatigue that sends me on ventures of creativity to comfort my longing for spring.  For me, this inevitably means an enjoyably conversation on Facebook with my lovely community of friends who share my wit, palate, and yes, a collective boredom and tiring of being indoors.  In these conversations, I have learned how to poach an egg (I was coached and cheered along in what turned out to be a virtual cooking show!), discovered new sources of dark chocolate, and combined some of my favorite Northwest dishes with  yummy Southern influences. (most recently, Cioppino and sweet cornbread...fantastic!)

Last Friday night, this desire for a change ultimately led to The Farmer and I dining on a "meal" of something I heretofore thought a contradiction in terms:  healthy pigs in a blanket...

I can hear the collective gasps of a few of my friends from the Midwest, but dear ones, I am here to tell you, it CAN be done!

It all started with a query on Facebook wondering if such a recipe existed?  And to myself I wondered if it would be good, would it satisfy the restlessness of another dark, cold evening.  I meandered about on Google searching for an answer while frivolity abounded on my Facebook timeline.   It was great fun, but no concrete answers so I took my wanderings out into the bleak winter night and headed down the street to PCC.  I knew if I was going to find healthy substitutes I had to stick with the purists!

PCC on a Friday night is filled with a wonderful assortment of weary folk, last minute moms and dads searching for dinner, folks getting off work and looking to self-soothe as I was, and people whose mission seemed to comfort not just their bellies but the loneliness a Friday night alone can bring. Because of their high standards in purchasing/supplying products, I never have to worry/question the ethics employed by the makers of the food I am purchasing.

In the midst of these observations my antiquated 3G Blackberry was erupting with Facebook notifications,  humorous, but not helpful!  Although, it is true that the reading of the comments as I perused the available, more healthy options had me laughing aloud in the store, blowing bits of winter's dust off my brain in the process.  In fact, I felt quite refreshed and ready to tackle my challenge!

In the kitchen as I assembled my findings, The Farmer said, "what are we having?"  I knew from his comments he had seen my status update.   "Pigs in a blanket!"  I exclaimed.  "You're serious?"  Who jokes about pigs in a blanket on a Friday night?  About 30 minutes later (thanks to The Farmer's preheating of the oven while I was down the street) a plate of yummy pigs in a blanket accompanied by a small salad (yes, this is part of how you make them healthy!) graced the dining room table, and dear ones I have to say they were quite delicious!

These are the simple, healthy and satisfying products I used to make a comforting meal that could be used for a snack, lunch, or party anytime.  Very little mess and quick to make, so for us, they made the perfect Friday night dinnah!

1. All beef hot dogs  - living in Seattle, we are fortunate to have available, a multitude of organic meats from which to choose.  I picked 3 Sisters because they are local (Whidbey Island).  It was interesting for me to note the difference in color between the organic beef hot dogs and the "all natural" hot dogs.  Most of us know by now that "all natural" has a vague meaning.  However, it was still startling for me to see what the visual difference that exists between the two meats.  The organic beef hot dogs were richer and deeper in their color than their all natural counterparts, making the decision to go organic very easy.  We were not
disappointed!

2. Crescent rolls - I was overjoyed to find a non-trans fat ready to use crescent roll that took me back to my Pillsbury years!  They were delicious and even the name is heavenly!  Immaculate Baking Co.!   Leave it to a baking company in North Carolina to come out with a product that was delicious, had ingredients that I could recognize/rationalize/pronounce, and was easy to use.  I did not get the snappy "pop" sound upon opening the can. But that's a small sacrifice to make when I get to support a small independent company over the more commercial ones.

3. Spicy brown mustard - any good stout mustard will do, but this was imperative for me to make the "pigs" both comforting and authentic.  The less healthy meats are heavily salted and artificially flavored to make us want more.  And that works!  While I liked the idea of eating the all beef hot dog, I knew I would need to substitute that flavor some how and the mustard proved to be the perfect addition!

4. Salad greens assembled and packaged by the lovely folks at PCC, zero work for me! The organic greens were a nice balance to the richer flavors of  the meat, bread, and cheese.

5. A healthy ranch dressing - we tried the PCC brand, and I have to say, I remain addicted to the less than natural flavors of   Hidden Valley Rance.  I realize that this is one of the most unhealthy products n Earth and I eagerly await the recipe that satisfies me and That Girl as much is the Hidden Valley.  Bring it!

Served on the side, slices of aged white cheddar.  The cheddar served the purpose of adding both comfort and depth/flavor to the meal.  Serving it sliced meant I could control the portion size an option that's not available when it's in the "blanket".

...as always more will be revealed.

The More Things Change....

It's been a good long time since I've been active on "A Few Bites Back" but the thought of this spot has never been too far from my heart. As many of you know major life changes blew the dust off my brain and spirit over the summer. Although it was a storm that had long been brewing, the sheer gale force of it kept me in chaos and unable to write meaningfully for quite some time.

Thankfully, the muse of food is a constant companion. So as my spirit struggled to dig out from the emotional trappings of a divorce that was long overdue and the literal piles of papers filled with legalese, the writing of bits in my head never ceased. The absolute knowing that I would return to this writing has been a constant comfort, my own personal safety net.

In these thoughts dear ones, I have been acclimating to life in a new area of Seattle, an area a bit more homey that suits and soothes the parts of me which grew up in the small town of Spencer, West Virginia where, for better or worse, everyone pretty much really did know your name. West Seattle, my new neighborhood, ("West" does seem to be a theme here) although close to downtown Seattle,  is a smaller, more friendly community where people take time to get to know their customers and neighbors. Since living here for six months, I have rediscovered some old friendships and have begun to build many new ones, for myself and the Kidlets. West Seattle is a peninsula so while we have an amazing view of downtown Seattle and the Space Needle from our new home, it feels like we live in a distinct little town and that provides this Mama with a feeling of warmth and security.

Along the way, I met The Farmer, someone who shares my aesthetic and practical love of food, as well as a passion for music, conversation, living and life. An afternoon spent at Theo Chocolate Factory sampling the many varieties of organic chocolate offerings was one of several outings we shared that made me think "I need to get back to my blog!"

There is a risk that food consumption can become pedestrian, even obligatory in the midst of such life-changing events. During times of emotional discomfort we eat to get by, we overeat to numb out, we don't eat because we grieve. But really, the rituals surrounding food anchor us to our SELVES and are key creature comforts, reminders that in the whirlwind of change, hurt, and uncertainty, our core is still the same, who we are is still the same. We may have faltered a bit, but our birthright is still there for the taking.

The first time I ventured back in to the kitchen to make a pot of chili in the Fall, my Mama mojo came back online, full force. It was as if my creative core had been rebooted. I began to write even more in my head. Making shrimp and grits for a Christmas party with my new neighbors and having that dish be the hit of the party, led to people seeking me out to get to know me and learn about how a gal from Spencer, West Virginia landed in Seattle. That first Christmas away from what I had known for 9 years was made right by a dish that took me back to my real roots and reminded me no matter where I land, it is always on my feet.

So I am not surprised I discovered in my new West Seattle PCC, Theo Salted and Almond Dark Chocolate bar. Like all Theo offerings, it is a premium, organic, Fair Trade chocolate bar, with just the right amount of almond bits and hints of salt to tease the tongue. But most wonderfully, upon discovering it, I was reminded of the last article I wrote for this blog, almost a year ago, about my love of chocolate, particularly dark with sea salt. I couldn't wait to get back to my writing and share with you my new discovery, my new life...my awakenings.

Much has changed, but dear ones, really it is true in spite of the massive upheaval that took me and the Kidlets out of Kansas so much has stayed steady: my wonderful community of friends both in real time and Facebook time...the outpouring of prayer that has sustained us, most assuredly that literally held me up and kept me on my feet...the enduring resilient spirit of my two brilliant children and chocolate. Chocolate which has been with me from my earliest memories, which is part of the fabric of my family and family stories, which even now brings me back to what I know...

My life is full and good...the love affair deepens...truly the more things change the more they stay the same...

More will most certainly be revealed...