Chicken Apple Sausage and Brussels Sprouts Hash

This is a quickie lunch I just put together from what was on hand.  And... yummm!

Nouns-

2 links chicken apple sausage, sliced in one-inch chunks

1 onion, thinly sliced

2-3 cups Brussels sprouts, stemmed and halved

1 cup croutons

2 tbsp sherry

1 cup chicken stock

olive oil

salt

pepper

Verbs-

Heat 1-2 tsp of olive oil over medium high heat.  Add the onion slices and saute for 2-3 minutes until browned and translucent.  Add the Brussels sprouts and salt and pepper to taste.  Saute 3-5 minutes until starting to caramelize and brown.  Add the sausage and continue to saute.  Then add the sherry and stir.  Add the croutons and another tsp of olive oil.  Then, add the chicken stock and stir until reduced and almost completely absorbed.  Makes lunch for two, or for me.  Top with parmesan cheese, lemon zest, pecans or whatever you have on hand that sounds yummy.

Thinking of Boston

Marathoners are crazy people.  People who miss out on sleep, time with friends and family, relaxation and other things in exchange for pain, $150 shoes that last only three months, black toenails, sweat,  and mile after mile after mile of wishing for a bathroom.  We are a band of odd, spandex-clad masochists who spend hours and hours chasing a goal with no hope of remuneration or reward, and it is a miracle that we, in our many thousands, get up at 5am on race day to get from starting line to finish line for really no good reason.

But the greater miracle by far--by far-- is that we are not alone.  Our friends and family encourage us through months of training, our partners suffer through the 5am alarm on summer Saturdays before a long run, so that our craziness, however baffling and annoying, finds support and understanding and love.  And even more amazing: on race day, our loved ones are joined by hundreds, even thousands of others.  Members of the community, runners, friends and family of other athletes, neighbors, sports fans, women, men, kids, dogs... thousands and thousands of strangers come together to reach out and cheer, to shout and wave, to hand out beer or gummy bears, to hold hand-made signs or swish pom-poms, or just to smile.

All those people are miracles.  My first half marathon was cold and wet and, against all laws of physics, uphill the entire way.  And when I started out, I kept thinking that if I could just get to the end, to see my friends, it would all be worth it.  But at each mile, or at each step, whenever I felt tired or hurt or began to doubt I could finish, a stranger, a total stranger, would tell me to keep going.  Keep Going!  You can do it! And I believed them. Those strangers, every one of them, made the journey possible, and more than possible: transcendent and affirming.  And then, at the end, after that upswell of totally unexpected support, seeing MY people, the faces in the crowd who belonged to me, holding a sign with my name on it... it was indescribable.

And every race since then, I looked to the crowd for inspiration.  Every kind of support can be found in the marathon crowd, from the genuinely heartwarming, to the silly, to the punny and profane.  They represent the very best of community and of humanity.  You never hear a marathon spectator boo anyone.  There is no trash talk, no blame, and no partisanship.  My fans cheer for everyone else on the course, and everyone else's cheer for me.  We are all in it together.

I can't stand the thought that anyone would harm those people.  Those people are my people.  Those people who made me laugh when I could barely put one foot in front of the other, who made me smile as my blisters swelled in cold wet socks, those people who were the miracles I needed when I most desperately needed them.  Those people are my people, and I am theirs.  That someone would harm them is unthinkable.  I am so so very sad, so incredibly sad, for all those killed, injured and traumatized at the Boston Marathon, and for anyone who loves or knows them, and for all the total strangers who became connected to them through the special magic of the craziness of the marathon.

Crunchy Hippie Post! Shampoo Alternatives!

I've posted before about how I mostly make my own household cleaners, and I try to make most of my food from scratch.  I generally also buy natural personal products.  I try very hard to be sure that my cosmetics, soaps, haircare, etc, are not tested on animals and don't contain carcinogens or teratogens.  I read the crunchy hippie blogs with a skeptical eye, but I do try out many of the all natural, do-it-yourself ideas to keep from buying so much packaged, chemically, expensive stuff.

Sooo, this weekend I tried the thing that I've been putting off for a while: "No-Poo."  I refuse to use that term again, because calling shampoo alternatives "no poos" makes them sound like anti-diarrheals.  In any case, I don't have the kind of life or job where I can take 6-8 weeks to allow my scalp to readjust to not washing at all, and I love the feel of clean, scented hair, so going cold-turkey was not an option.  Accordingly, a Shampoo Alternative.  I tried Baking Soda.  And is it any surprise that this handy substance that I use to clean and deoderize my house and brush my teeth and deodorize my laundry has yet another use?  I guess not.

It seemed totally counterintuitive to condition my hair with apple cider vinegar, though, which is the next step.  I mean, yes, baking soda to clean things.  I'm with you.  But vinegar is the opposite of the substance I normally use to condition.  Conditioner is creamy and oil-based and ... not vinegar.  But, what the heck, thought I.  If it's awful I'll just take another shower and use my regular shampoo and conditioner.

I mixed a tablespoon or so of baking soda with about a cup of hot water and put it in a spray bottle.  Then I mixed a few tablespoons of vinegar with hot water and put it in an old conditioner bottle.  I sprayed my wet hair at the roots with the baking soda stuff and let it sit for a few minutes before rinsing.  Then I awkwardly squirted the diluted vinegar on the ends of my hair and gradually more toward the scalp, without soaking too much near the scalp because I have oily hair.  Then I rinsed it.

And... voila!  I am convinced.  This works as well as shampoo and conditioner.  My hair looks and feels great.  Another crunchy hippie win.  I can cross shampoo and conditioner off my shopping list permanently.

Homemade Tortillas and "refried" Pinto Beans

I've posted before about how wonderfully transformative it can be to make the food you eat instead of buy it.  I realize that time is precious, and that not everyone has the wonderful resource of time that I have, but I luxuriate in the wonderful privilege of being able to craft my food.  For example, tonight, I ate tortillas, pinto beans, and a small dollop of salsa and greek yogurt for dinner.  And it was heavenly.  It was fantastic.  I cannot emphasize how wonderfully simple, nourishing and delicious it was.  I made the tortillas this afternoon,  watching each one puff up and blister on the skillet, and slow-cooked the pintos in vegetable broth with garlic, cumin and chiles until they were soft and could be smashed together for a wonderfully textured "refried" feel without adding more fat.

Oooh, yum.

Butternut Kale Noodle Casserole

This is a healthy, quick meal that keeps well and reheats well for lunches.  I made a big batch and ate it on and off all week.  Yummm.

Orange and Green Noodle Casserole
Time- about an hour
Makes 8 servings

Nouns-
1 lb whole wheat pasta- I used penne
1.5 cups nonfat Greek yogurt
1 medium butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cubed
1 bunch kale, rinsed, de-stemmed and torn into pieces
1 cup grated Gruyere cheese
1 cup walnuts
1 onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 tsp paprika
1/4 tsp nutmeg

Verbs-
Preheat Oven to 400. Lightly grease a large casserole or 9-13 baking dish.   Roast the squash for 20-30 minutes, while preparing the rest of the casserole.  Boil and drain the pasta according to package directions, but add the kale about 1 minute before draining the pasta.

In a large bowl, stir together the yogurt, garlic, cheese and spices.  Thin with water or with a little milk or vegetable broth if it is too thick.  Add the noodles, kale, squash, onions and walnuts and toss to thoroughly combine.  If the yogurt mixture does not cover the other ingredients, add a little milk to thin it.  Once the mixture is well combined, pour it into the baking dish, cover with aluminum foul or the dish lid, if it has one, and bake for 15-30 minutes, until bubbly and hot in the middle.

Crockpot Sweet Potato Chicken Curry

This is a super easy weekday meal.  Yum!

Nouns-
2 boneless skinless chicken breasts
1 can diced tomatoes
1 cup dry chickpeas
1/2 cup raisins
2 sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into half-inch chunks
1/2 onion, sliced
1 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp curry powder
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp ginger
3 cups chicken broth

1/4 cup slivered almonds
1 cup peas
rice or couscous or quinoa for serving

Verbs-
Put all the first group of ingredients in the crock and cook on high 4 hours, or on low 8 hours.  Stir in the almonds and peas and cook another half hour.  Serve over rice or cous cous or quinoa.  Or, if you want, add more broth and eat as a stew.  Yummm!

Why it's so hard to food blog... or... how to make meatballs

Food blogging is hard for me, because though I love food and cooking, and I think about food and cooking almost constantly, I have a hard time capturing my favorite meals into recipes.  I just don't keep track of what I make and how I make it in an organized way, despite the meal-planning and food blogging and Pinterest and whatnot.  Recently on several occasions I've scrabbled around looking for a recipe I made awhile ago, trying to recreate something that was AWESOME, but that now I can't figure out how I made.  That particular lemon cake I made for a friend's birthday last year?  Yeah, he'd love to have it again.  But I have no earthly clue which one it was.

And at least lemon cake is a recipe!  I've had people ask me how to make my favorite things and I have not so much a recipe as a general description of things I do and things you could put in if you feel like it.  It's not super helpful, and I often forget important steps and some ingredients.

Even when I'm setting out to blog a recipe and trying hard to keep track of everything I do and put in, I forget things, forget to take pictures of the steps or the finished product, etc.

For example: Meatballs and Caramelized Onion Gravy
A sort-of recipe

Nouns:
Ground turkey- one package, I don't know how much that is.  But, you know, a package of ground turkey.
An egg or two
breadcrumbs or oats-- a cup maybe?  Less than that, probably?
half an onion, diced, or a whole onion if you want
half an onion, sliced thinly
chicken broth
1 tbsp butter
1 tbsp flour
Worcestershire sauce
ketchup
garlic


Verbs- gently squish the ground turkey, crumbs and onion together, add in some diced garlic if you remember.  Add one egg and a dash or two of Worchestershire and ketchup.  If it seems to be not holding together well enough, add another egg.  Don't overmix, be gentle.

Set up your stove thusly: bowl of raw meatball mix stuff on counter next to frying pan. Frying pan on medium heat with some oil in it.  On the other burner, a large high-sided pan like a dutch oven or big saucepan, with the sliced onion caramelizing in it.

Now you're ready to make meatballs!  Form the meaty stuff into balls... I make them them an inch and a half to two inches in diameter.  Gently compress the mixture into the ball shape and saute it in the oil in the frying pan, turning very gently so that all sides are browned.  You have to do this in batches, because you don't want to crowd the frying pan.  When your first batch is done, you can transfer it to the other pot with the caramelized onions.  But FIRST, pour in enough chicken broth to come close to covering the meatballs, and turn the pot to a simmer.  Add the meatballs gently.  Keep frying your meatballs to brown them, adding oil as necessary to the pan to keep them from sticking.  Once all the meatballs are transferred to the simmering broth, add more broth to cover.  Simmer for a while... depending on how long it took you to make the meatballs and get them all fried.  Make sure they are all cooked through, obviously.  Then, microwave the butter and flour together until all the butter is melted through and the flour has turned golden brown.  90 seconds should be more than plenty.  Add that mixture to the broth and gently stir to thicken.

Meatballs and gravy are great over mashed potatoes, egg noodles, rice pilaf... anything you please.  Yummmm.

Banana Molasses Crackle Bread

I have a new favorite banana bread recipe.  I'm not a huge banana bread fan, but I made it because otherwise I would have to actually eat all my bananas before they go brown, a thing I am apparently pathologically incapable of doing.  So the brown bananas go in the freezer until I have 3 or 4, and then I make banana bread.  That bread has seemed a necessary evil, a demonstration of frugal domesticity, a thing I did because otherwise I would have had banana guilt.

But now... now I have changed my tune.  I am remade.  I see banana bread as its own worthy pursuit, a fall breakfast of extraordinary lusciousness, a reason to go buy bananas if there are none in the freezer.

It all started, as so many of my kitchen adventures do, over at Smitten Kitchen, where I saw a recipe for banana bread with millet in it.  And I thought... Millet!  Of Course!  I love millet.  I put it in seed bread and it creates a robust wonderful texture.  I happened to have some in the cupboard for that reason.  If you don't have millet (because, duh, why would you have millet?) then fear not!  It is pretty easy to find in the bulk section of any grocery store with a hippie-ish bent or a comprehensive bulk selection.  Here in the Portland Metro area, that's Whole Foods, New Seasons, Winco, and Freddie's.

Once you've acquired some millet, you can set about making this textured, crackly, rich banana bread.

Bananananana Bread 

Nouns-
3 large overripe bananas
1 egg
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup molasses (or, for a lighter, less intense flavor, half molasses/half corn syrup or half molasses/half honey)
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp fresh ground nutmeg
pinch of ground cloves (I might have added more than a pinch)
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1/3 cup uncooked millet

Verbs-
Preheat Oven to 350 and spray a loaf pan with oil or coat it in butter.  Mash bananas, then stir in the egg, oil, brown sugar and molasses.  Then, stir in baking soda, salt and spices.  Fold in flour until just combined, then fold in the millet.  Pour batter into the loaf pan and bake for 45-50 minutes.  Keeps week at room temp in a ziplock bag for about a week, or wrapped tightly in plastic wrap in the freezer it'll keep for months.  I recommend slicing it, toasting it and eating with a smear of butter.

Caramel Apple Spice Cake

This cake is ridiculous.  Really really ridiculous.  I cobbled it together from several recipes and from some determination to bring together elements that I thought should be a cake, but didn't seem to be a recipe anywhere.  Some parts work better than others; the frosting, though delicious, is terrible to work with because it is sticky and has a silly-putty kind of consistency that won't stick to the cake well.  Still, it's totally worth the fussiness.

First you make THIS SPICE CAKE RECIPE, through step three.  Then stop.  To be honest, I added about 50% more of each spice than the recipe calls for, but other than that, I didn't fiddle with it.  I know... I couldn't believe it either.

Here's where it gets interesting:

Nouns:
Filling-
2 apples, peeled, cored and sliced thinly
2 tbsp brown sugar
1 tbsp butter
1/4 tsp cinnamon

Icing:
2 sticks butter, room temp
4-5 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup water
1 tbsp corn syrup
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 tsp sea salt
1 tsp vanilla extract

Verbs:
Filling and Icing--
In a small saucepan, cook the apples, brown sugar, butter and cinnamon over medium-low heat until apples are soft.  Reserve the apples until you are ready to assemble the cake.  Then, in a clean saucepan, boil the water, sugar and corn syrup without stirring for 5-10 minutes until it is a deep amber color, taking care not to scorch it.  Using a HEAT PROOF spatula, carefully avoiding the hissing splattering, stir in the heavy cream and sea salt.  Now you have caramel sauce.  Set it aside to cool.  If you feel like it, you can add a tablespoon or two to the apples.  Why not?

In a stand mixer, beat the butter until creamy.  Gradually add the powdered sugar and beat to combine.  Gradually add the caramel while beating the icing until it reaches the desired level of caramelly flavor.  If the consistency is too soft, add more powdered sugar.  If it is too stiff, add more caramel sauce or some heavy cream.  Feel free to reserve some caramel sauce to drizzle over the top of the finished cake, or into your mouth, or whatever.

Assembly:
I like to freeze my cake layers for an hour or two up to a day or two before I assemble the cake.  I find it's easier to work with and I get fewer crumbs in my icing.  In any case, the layers should be cooled before assembly.  Set the bottom cake layer on a small dollop of icing on your cake platter, so it stays put.  Then, pipe a ring of icing around the top edge of that layer.  Spread the apple filling inside that ring of icing until even.  Set the top layer over the filling on the ring of icing so that the filling is sealed in and won't goo everywhere while you are frosting this thing.  Spread the icing in a thin layer over the whole cake.  Freeze for 30 minutes.  Then frost with the desired frosting effect.  feel free to just glob it on there, or to get fancy.  I got fancy, but I'm a fancy kind of girl.  I also put some caramelized sugar frou-frou on top of mine, because I love frou-frou.

Hippie Mama's Tofu Punkin Pie

I grew up eating this pie, and I love it.  No one would ever guess it has tofu, and frankly, the tofu base is easier than doing the custard base of most pumpkin pies, and it's much better and fresher than the canned pumpkin pie mix stuff.  I have modified my mom's recipe a little, but this is more or less how she does it.

Nouns-
Filling:
12 ounces (about one package) of silken tofu
2 cups canned pumpkin, or two cups sugar pumpkin, seeded, roasted, peeled and pureed.
2/3 cup honey
2 tsp pumpkin pie spice (I make my own-- it's 1 part fresh ground cloves, 1 part fresh ground allspice, 1 part ground ginger, 1 part fresh ground nutmeg and 5 parts cinnamon)
2 eggs

Crust-- this makes a double crust, so halve the recipe if you aren't going to use the other pie crust
2 1/2 cups flour
1 cup butter, chilled and cubed
1/2 cup ice water

Verbs-
Pulse the flour and butter together in a food processor until it looks like coarse crumbs.  Drizzle the water in in one continuous stream with the processor on, until the dough just comes together when pinched.  Pour the dough out onto a cutting board and form it into two disks.  Wrap and refrigerate the dough for an hour.  Once dough has been chilled, preheat oven to 425.  Then, put all the filling ingredients in the food processor and process until smooth and creamy.  Roll out the pie crust and transfer it to a 9inch pie pan.  Pour in the filling.  Bake at 425 for 15 minutes, then turn down to 350 and bake for another 30-45 minutes, until fully set.  Cool and top with whipped cream.  Good for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Hmmm, pie.

Stregnth

I just read this wonderful piece by Dvora Meyers for Jezebel, and I was really struck by a few of the things that she says about doing gymnastics as a child and struggling with how to make the sport compatible with her other, especially her religious, values.  


She says this about athletics and feminism:
"My mother, who had been the first in her family to go to college, intellectually conveyed her ideas about feminism to me, insisting that if I got an education, I could do whatever I set my mind to. But what about whatever I set my body to?

Through gymnastics, feminism was communicated physically, which turned out to be much more powerful than its intellectual demonstration. If ideas about inferiority or separateness of women are rooted in our different bodies, then the best way I found to overcome these ideas was by using this same body to accomplish feats of strength."

And this, THIS, is what I have been feeling about running but have been unable to articulate.  I have always felt, thanks to my wonderful parents and grandparents and teachers and my own innate stubborn streak, that I could do anything I put my mind to.  That I could be a doctor or a paleontologist or a professor or an astronaut, or, if I want to settle, a lawyer.  But I felt limited, limited by the perceptions and pressures of the world, limited by my body and by circumstance... just limited.  And when I run, that goes away.

I have been religiously watching the olympics, marveling at the greatest achievements in human strength, speed, grace and precision, and so I appreciate that I will never, never be a world-class athlete, or even a good athlete!  But the physical communication of feminism, the well of strength that comes from working my muscles, putting my feet on the road, going far, that does create a sense of limitlessness.  It is so easy to shrug off the silly ideas of what I should look like, the sense that my body is not what society deems it should be, when I can USE this body to run 42 miles of trail in three days, or finish a marathon, or just to put some miles between me and whatever is bothering me.  It is also easier to put my mind to things and live out my intellectual feminist principles when I am rooted in the physical strength and I feel like my body is an ally, rather than an enemy.  I feel whole.

I think the most pernicious thing about our society's beauty standards, diet culture, and the unrealistic and objectifying views of women it perpetuates is that it makes a woman's own body her enemy.  It breaks her down into component parts and renders each one a separate foe: her thighs are her tormentors, her stomach her opponent, and her ass an obstacle.  And that is tragic.  Because a woman cannot be anything but limited if she must battle herself, divided.  How can she have any energy left to triumph over the other myriad obstacles of life? 

Anyway, thanks to Dvora Meyers for her writing and reflection.  Its timely, as I'm watching the Olympic women's gymnastics final right now, and I can feel the strength of those women, see the hours and hours of dedication reflected in every movement, and see that even under pressure and in pain, they trust themselves and their own power.  Sometimes they fall, that isn't the point.  The point is that they trust themselves to fly.

Rogue River Trail Run

I started this sentence over and over again, erasing version after version, because I can't figure out how best to describe this adventure.  I didn't post about it much when I was training for it, because I wasn't following my original training plan, and I was really struggling with the sense that I hadn't put all the checks in the right boxes.  I felt weird, almost ashamed, of not following my training plan on its beautiful spreadsheet.  But, as I now know, the training I did was much better than the spreadsheet, because instead of following the plan, I just listened to my body and had fun.  So, my training process was organic and un-regimented, and nothing to write home about, but the run itself, the run itself was... sublime.

It was tech-free, ego-free, and entirely beautiful.  The map above was the route we took, running from right to left along the trail as pictured.  

DAY ONE:

We met in Merlin, OR, on Monday.  I showed up alone at the rafting company and met Tara, Nina, Layla and Karin, four friends who decided to go on the trip as a girls' adventure vacation.  I was so excited to meet the other runners and to learn that they were all about my age.  I was more excited when they turned out to be hilarious, welcoming, irreverent, strong, encouraging and generally fantastic.  We met our running guide, Vic, and our rafting guide, Matt, later to be nicknamed Padre and Diesel.  We packed our stuff into dry bags and loaded up in a van to drive to Grave Creek.  At Grave Creek, Matt put the raft, loaded with all our stuff, into the river, and we took to the trail.  

It was HOT, and rocky, and steep.  We wound our way up the hill along the river until we were running along the edge of a cliff looking down down down to the river on our left.  

We ran about three miles and then stopped at Whiskey Creek to see a historic cabin and refill our water.  We saw this sign, letting us know we had many many miles to go until the end of the adventure:

The trail was gorgeous and we had lovely, though slightly hot, weather.  

At the end of a long, lovely morning of running, we stopped for a late lunch and spent a few hours eating, relaxing and sticking our feet in the river, before we were paddled across the river to Black Bar Lodge.  After winding up the trail to the lodge, we saw the welcoming committee:

 

I stayed in this lovely little cabin, complete with a hot shower!  Very civilized.  

I had a great time hanging out on the lawn with my new friends before dinner.

By the end of the day, I felt totally at ease and confident that I hadn't dramatically overestimated my capabilities or gotten in over my head.  Luckily, I had a pace-buddy in the group of girls, Layla, who was willing to walk the steep uphill sections with me, rather than run them.  As a result of our less all-out approach to hills, she and I would end up a few minutes behind the other three at the end of each section.  But since we stopped for breaks fairly often and had a nice long lunch and relaxation break before we hit the lodge, we were never that far behind. 

It was nice to have a buddy for the run, though we didn't always talk.  I ran silent for the first time in a long time, running just to run, without music or chatter, and heard my breath in my ears and my feet on the trail, the wind and the river... and the quiet in my own head.  I found a pace that felt natural and sustainable, and then didn't have to think much at all, except about avoiding rocks, jumping streams, and ducking the occasional low branch.  I felt both wonderfully included and wonderfully alone, and though the running was hard, it was always good-hard.  Not overwhelming, just empowering.  

I slept well in the total silence of the woods after the lodge turned off the generator.  

DAY TWO:

I woke up in my snug little cabin, showered and went down to the lodge for breakfast, which was yummy.  Then, we repacked our stuff and got all our gear on and stretched, ready for 14.8 miles!

The girls gave me the extra pink running shirt they'd had made for their trip, a generous gesture of inclusiveness, and so I was made an honorary member of this ridiculous and awesome tribe of ladies:

We decided to run about nine miles on the second day, then take a running break and ride the raft for a few miles, before finishing out our day with a short mile or two into the lodge.  The first 9 miles flew by.  More beautiful scenery, more silliness and hijinks on the trail, more laughs.

Taking a break to ride in the boat was awesome.  I think saving my legs a bit for the long miles of the last day was a good idea, and while we were on the river, we got to see a bald eagle fishing.  Wow!  Layla took a turn on the oars and did a great job not running into rocks, but Matt, our river guide, took over for the rough parts.  We went through a few small rapids, but nothing too exciting.  It was relaxing and beautiful and I managed to stay relatively dry through the rapids.

We stopped for lunch after our raft ride, and spent an enjoyable hour eating and soaking our feet and sunbathing again, before we jogged the last mile or two to Marial Lodge.

Marial Lodge was amazing.  The innkeepers were welcoming, the food was fantastic, and the views were lovely.  We spent the evening on the deck, enjoying some wine, some games, the view, the bird-feeder, and a chance to rest.  

DAY THREE:

I was a little nervous when I woke up on Day Three, because I was a little sore and we had sixteen (16!!) miles to run.  We had talked about it the night before and decided to try to do the whole day running and not resort to the raft.  This was the end of our adventure, our biggest test, and I was especially determined to challenge myself and do it.  After a delicious breakfast, we geared up.  In addition to the usual water, sunscreen, bug spray and other accouterments, Karin started making daisy chains.  We ran the whole day with flowers in our hair, and amazingly, they stayed put!  

After many hours of running and two totally brutal hills that were NOT in the brochure (ow!), we made it to the end.  We celebrated on the boat launch at Foster Bar with lunch, cookies, and a quick dip in the river to wash any poison oak off.  

In sum: This was awesome.  I feel incredibly blessed that the weather cooperated, that I managed to avoid injury and poison oak and blisters, that I stumbled into the company of such wonderful people, and that I trusted my body and trained up to where I could run 38 miles in three days and feel... amazing.  To go places only reachable on foot or by boat, to see such a breadth of Oregon's natural landscape, to challenge myself and find my strength with no technology, no ego and no pace clock, to have had these three days of wonder was a joy and a triumph.  

Thanks to everyone who supported and encouraged me to do this, special thanks to Nina, Layla, Tara, Karin, Matt and Vic, who were there for every mile.  I totally want to do it again!

Vignettes

One
I was exhausted and re-wearing the same clothes for the 4th or 5th time.  A Christmas-break road trip from Colorado to California and then back to college in Washington had been prolonged by a blizzard that trapped us in Elko, Nevada for two days, and then again by an ice storm that kept us in Portland.  I was missing a suitcase that had somehow gotten lost on the first leg of the trip, and so I had no clean underwear, no cell phone charger and was uncertain of the fate of most of my Christmas gifts.  I was giddy with the prospect of a shower and my own bed, reading the signs aloud as each familiar landmark welcomed us back.  The Tacoma Dome.  The Glass Museum.

And finally, getting off I-5, taking the exit for Highway 16, only a few miles from campus and home.  Spencer's phone rang, and I answered, because he was driving.  It was for me.

"Alice, I'm afraid I have some very bad news," he began.  "It's your grandfather..."

"Daddy, no."  I couldn't breathe.  "No."

Two
It was snowing quite a bit, and the road was very dark.  My father looked older than I remembered, hands on the steering wheel, peering at highway signs.  A lot has changed, even in these backroads towns of corn country, and we numb and tired pilgrims had gotten lost.  Somewhere, there, in that suddenly-unfamiliar chunk of rural Indiana, there is an oak tree growing on the roof of an old, dignified courthouse in a lovely little town.  Its roots have grabbed ahold of the building with stubborn firmness and Midwestern insistence, and the townspeople apparently felt that, like themselves, it should stay where it grew.  As we drove by, I could see the branches uplit by the lights in the little square as we went past, on our way to another little town where my father had grown up, on our way to the sacred ground where my grandfather would always rest.

Three
 "Why, Alice, what are you doing?"  My Aunt Esther could somehow tell by my posture on the lovely reception chair that something was amiss.

"I'm in 'jail,'" I started to explain.

Before I could elaborate, my aunt laughed and my very indignant cousin Maya, age 8, skidded toward me in her patent-leather maryjanes and suitably ruffly dress, scolding me.  Prisoners, of course, cannot talk.  Aunt Esther, seeing a ready opportunity for a break, managed to get herself arrested and me released, and relaxed into the chair in my place.  Before Maya could arrest any additional funeral guests, I took her hand and asked if she would come outside with me.

The snow was thick and fluffy, falling in large, puffy flakes.  Our dress shoes were treacherous on the icy bricks of the church's courtyard.  I held her hand and led her to the plain brass door, behind which our grandfather's ashes resided in an incongruous plastic bin.  Later, a plaque with his name would adorn the spot, but for now, it was flat cold and gave no hint that the man I loved so dearly had chosen it as his resting place.

"Maya, do you want to say goodbye to grandpa?"  I knew she wouldn't remember, and probably didn't understand, but I thought someone should give her the chance to participate, to have her moment, in case in later years she did remember.

"Bye-Bye, grandpa!" She trilled, and I lifted her up to place her hand on the brass, which she did with an enthusiastic and somewhat confused smack.

"Bye-Bye, grandpa, " I repeated.  We went back inside, to the warm, and let Aunt Esther out of jail.

Meal Plan

Here's the plan:

Vietnamese Noodle Salad
Cherry Chipotle Turkey Cutlets with Sweet Corn Casserole
Roast Chicken with Kale and Sweet Potatoes
Ratatouille and Garlic Parmesan Toasts
Green Chili Mac and Cheese 


Yum!

Blast from the Past

Earlier this evening I got an email from my friend Betsy telling me that she had found an old high school essay of mine while she was cleaning out some boxes from her parents' house.  She had a copy of the essay because I had written it about her and given it to her as a gift.  I had, of course, forgotten all about it.  I asked her to send me a copy of it and she obliged.  

Below, reproduced in its entirety, is a "college entrance essay" assignment I wrote my junior year of high school.  It comes complete with embarrassing typos so many commas it looks like I held a pepper grinder over it; this is the Caesar salad of homework.  Please enjoy my 17-year-old self.  She was a delightful mess.  

Beans and Greens!

Here's a cheap, easy, fast, healthy weeknight dinner.  Yum.

Beans and Greens-
Nouns-
2 bunches of kale, stemmed and torn
1 half onion, chopped
4 carrots, chopped
1 can garbanzo beans
4 slices turkey bacon, chopped
1.5 cups chicken broth
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp cumin
3 cloves garlic, minced
olive oil
salt and pepper
1 cup plain Greek Yogurt

Verbs-
Saute the bacon for 2-3 minutes over medium high heat.  Add the onions and carrots and saute 3-5 more minutes, seasoning with salt and pepper.  Add the drained garbanzo beans, garlic and the paprika and cumin.  If the pan is dry, add a bit of olive oil and stir everything around for a minute or two.  Then add the chicken stock and bring a simmer.  Add the kale and stir until the kale is wilted and deep green.  Remove from the heat and serve in bowls, topped with a dollop of the Greek yogurt.  Yumm!  We also had some oat rolls with ours, which were a great side.

Running up the hill

I am running the Rogue River Trail in 7 weeks.

SEVEN.  yikes.

I took a 5-day break from running this week due to some hip problems.  I stretched, I iced, I went to my crazy chiropractor, but nothing really helped.  In fact, for the first three days my hip got worse even though I was just sitting there.  Very annoying.  Finally, it started to feel better and I capitulated and bought new shoes so I could go running under optimal circumstances for having happy legs.  I have been putting off the new shoe thing for a long time because they are so expensive, but I solemnly swear I will not delay getting new shoes again, because it was worth every penny.

I ran 6 miles on flat paved trails yesterday to test out my hip, and after that went great, I busted out my new trail shoes and ran 10 miles on muddy steep horse trails in Tryon Creek Park this morning. That run was ... hard.  It was very hard.  My hip felt fine, but I'm undertrained for hills and switchbacks, and I could feel my big muscles, the quads and glutes especially, going achy and hypoxic after only a mile.  After two miles, I was huffing and puffing expremely inelegantly and seriously doubting whether I could finish my ten.  And, consequently, seriously doubting whether my Rogue River run is even possible.  I was struggling and couldn't find my stride, flailing madly down hills and trudging awkwardly up them, when a tall, thin blonde in just a sports bra and booty shorts, her navel ring glistening in the sunshine and her ponytail bobbing jauntily, came flashing past me.  She blasted by as a blurry vision of tanned abs and pink sneakers, leaving me in the dust.

In that moment, I had a massive attack of the Itty-Bitty-Shitty-Me's.  I felt sooooo lame.  And I felt ashamed for feeling lame, because blah blah feminism, I don't need to compare myself to Jogger Barbie, I am strong and I'm running for me, and not so I can conform to some external body model or whatever.  Yes.  That is true.  And I run for the feeling of power and independence, the complete trust in my own strength and autonomy that it gives me.  But right then I just felt sweaty and muddy and tired and miserable in my dorky running outfit, gasping for breath, and ready to give up.

But I didn't.  And that is the secret.  Sometimes the reward is in persevering when it seems like there is no reward.  I persevered.  I walked up the hills when I couldn't run up them, but I didn't stop, and I didn't let myself believe the lies I was telling myself about weakness.  And then, almost magically, my GPS said I had run seven miles.  Every mile had felt impossible until I knew there were only three left, and then everything was easy.  Of course I could do three more miles.  What's three miles?  And I pulled my head up and looked around at the beautiful forest, noticing it as though for the first time.  Ahhhhh.  I ran my last three miles feeling like I could do anything, anything in the world.  Just try to stop me.  I dare you.

Fish Tacos with Fresh Mango Salsa

These turned out totally totally awesome.  So good.  I do not pretend that they are authentic to any particular culinary tradition... they just taste good.

Tilapia Tacos with Mango Salsa


Nouns-
4 tilapia fillets
1 mango, peeled and pitted and diced
1 medium tomato, diced
Half of one red onion, minced
1 red chili, seeded and minced
4 tablespoons minced cilantro
Juice of 2 limes
1 quarter of a cabbage, julienned
1 avocado, peeled, pitted and chopped
12 white corn tortillas
3 tablespoons cornstarch
3 tablespoons corn meal
safflower oil
salt
pepper


Verbs-
To make your salsa, dice your mango and combine with the tomato, onion, chili, cilantro, salt, pepper and the lime juice and muddle.  Let it sit for about 15 minutes while you julienne your cabbage.  Set that aside.  Add a few tablespoons of oil to a large frying pan over high heat.  Stir the corn starch and corn meal together on a plate and dredge the tilapia fillets in that mixture before placing in the hot frying pan.  Fry each side for 3-4 minutes.  Set the fish aside and wipe the pan out.  Add a little more oil and lightly fry the tortillas, for about one minute per side.  Assemble your fish tacos thusly: flake the fish with a fork and put as much as you like in your tortilla.  Pile on the cabbage, avocado and salsa.  Eat, perhaps with a bit more cilantro and a squish of a fresh lime wedge.  Yummm!

Meal Plan

Red Curry with Brown Rice
Super Food Salad
Beans and Greens
Kielbasa and Brussels Sprouts

Pie!

Over the last few days, I have had occasion to make several pies.  I made a pie for a gathering we had this last weekend, and I think it is new favorite summer pie recipe.

I used the Joy of Baking Berry Pie recipe you can find here, except I used a 9-inch tart shell instead of a pie tin because my pie tin is old and banged up and my tart shell is new and pretty.  It worked great!  I was afraid the pie would bubble over or be burned because it was thinner than a normal pie tin, but nope, perfect!  Sooo good.  The picture doesn't do it justice, because it was taken on my husband's Ipad in the middle of a party.

Then, yesterday I used the leftover pie dough and berries to make a mini berry tart for my friend Kali, who is awesomesauce and came to visit me at lunch today.

I also made a chocolate pie for my co-worker (boss? the chain-of-command at my office is a bit strange, but he's vaguely boss-like) as a consolation prize and thank-you for being such a good sport about the pie in the next paragraph.  I used the Joy of Baking Chocolate Pie Recipe here, but I had some problems getting the filling to set, and ended up cooking it for about 20 minutes, rather than 3-5.  Annoying.  So next time I'll probably try this Smitten Kitchen version instead.

Finally, I made an incredibly gross faux pie to throw in my co-worker's face.  You see, he "won" the pie-in-the-face fundraiser contest we had for the office food drive, and as a result, he got a pie in the face.  To minimize liability, I went with a flimsy foil disposable pie tin filled with instant banana pudding and whipped topping.  Again, I couldn't get my pudding to gel.  What is with the pudding in this house?  Also, instant banana pudding is gross and smells like Laffy Taffy.  My co-worker was a good sport about getting the thing all over his face, but did not elect to share his yummy chocolate pie with any of us spectators.  Can't say I blame him.