Category Archives: vegetable side dish

Collards with walnuts, corn and smoked gouda

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Collards with corn, walnuts and smoked gouda

Collards with corn, walnuts and smoked gouda

Sometimes I’ll get a little speck of light in my vision, like a sunspot. And it will grow, and start to shimmer. It will take the shape of a laurel branch, climbing up the side of one eye. It will be jagged and flashing and electric. I can see around it, but I can’t see through it, and half of my vision will be obscured. Between me and the world is an odd animate light, sparkling and growing. It’s a little rip in the fabric, a small malfunction of the wiring. If this was a science fiction movie, it would be that moment when you’d say, “My god, I’m a robot! How long has this been true? Is anything real? Are my memories my memories? Have I actually felt all that I’ve felt and done all that I’ve done?” And then you’d look in the mirror and part of your skin would be torn off, and wires would be poking out, and sparks would start shooting all over the place! But it’s not a science fiction movie, and so it’s not the moment that I discover that I’m a robot, but that I’m a human, which is equally strange. Maybe more so. The frantic glow fades, eventually, but I always feel discombobulated for some time – sensitive to light, and wary of another episode. It’s hard to shake the strangeness of realizing that you’re a person, a bundle of thoughts and recollections and hopes and worries and tastes, looking out at the world through this strange, warm, vulnerable, incomprehensibly busy body. It feels so odd to discover that what I see – the world around me, my vision – is who I am. My impressions of the world, gathered from all of my senses, are more closely connected to my sense of myself than other people’s impressions of me, and this must be true for everybody! Each person is the world that they create around themselves as they experience life! It’s a weirdly freeing thought! (What is she going on about?) This morning I had the little shimmering light in my eye, but it never grew, it faded without incident. Obviously, it still left me feeling a little blurry, though, or I wouldn’t be rambling on in this ridiculous fashion!

Let’s talk about collards instead. This is all part of my fiendish plan to make collards as popular as kale. Why does kale get all of the attention? Just cause it’s frilly and pretty? Well, collards are delicious, too, despite their dull surface and flat leaves! I do love collards, they’re so nicely substantial. I mixed them, in this instance, with walnuts and corn, for a little crunchy sweetness, and smoked gouda, for a little melty smokiness. I also used pomegranate molasses, which is just enough strange and sweet to lively up this dish! This is a good side dish, but if you ate it with some rice (and beans, even) it would make a good meal.

Here’s the Ink Spots with When the Sun Goes Down (you don’t get sunspots any more!!)

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Cauliflower, spinach and tarragon faux-soufflé

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Cauliflower, spinach and tarragon souffle

Cauliflower, spinach and tarragon souffle

Notice anything unusual about this sentence? A black cat dances – eerie, feline, ghostly – hanging in Jack’s kitchen like mist; newly opening people’s questions regarding spirits, till, utterly vexed, wraith Xavier yells, “Zounds!” No? No? How about this one: All birthday cards delight, even from George, housed in jail; katherine, living monastically near ottawa; Peter, quarantined respecting some terrible unknown virus, which … I couldn’t quite finish that one, actually. Ideas on a postcard to The Ordinary. I’ve been having a rough time sleeping the last couple of nights, and this is how I occupy my brain. It’s a very good way to avoid worrying! Unless it becomes worrisome in itself. Another thing I like to do is think of songs that are connected in my mind, and make a chain with them, and think about why I like them. For instance, I love John Lee Hooker’s Send Me Your Pillow. It’s one of my all-time favorites. It’s so immediate and raw and yearning, and musically so beautiful. It’s so intimate and human. A pillow full of her tears!! And it always reminds me of The Smiths’ Some Girls are Bigger Than Others, with the line, “Send me your pillow, the one that you dream on.” I think Morrissey is actually quoting a completely different song, but, to me, it has always seemed like an extension of the John Lee Hooker song, but ethereal, out-of-body, still desiring, but in the realm of the mind and the irrational – musically, too, sparking, fleeting, but grounded – like a train passing. And this song reminds me of Tom Waits’ 9th and Hennepin…And you take on the dreams of the ones who have slept here
And I’m lost in the window, and I hide in the stairway…And I hang in the curtain, and I sleep in your hat…And no one brings anything small into a bar around here. We watched Harvey, about the giant rabbit the other month, and this line is from that. I nearly fell off my chair. Everything’s connected! Everything makes a chain in your head! I could go on from there… Try it, some sleepless night, make us a chain of songs!!

So this started as a cauliflower puree, which is a thing I like a lot, but it needed a bit more oomph, so I added some eggs and cheese and baked it till it was golden and puffed and delicious. It worked out quite well! Not a souffle in the sense that I didn’t make a bechamel, or whip eggs or anything, but light, a bit crispy, and quite nice!!

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Crispy cornmeal cakes and chard with chickpeas, olives and roasted red peppers

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Corn cakes and chard

Corn cakes and chard

My favorite version of A Christmas Carol is from 1951, starring Alistair Sim. It captures the humor and the heart like no other version, and it captures the darkness as well. Visually, the play of light and shadow is beautiful, and it reminds us that the story of A Christmas Carol has a lot of darkness at its core. It’s despairing and macabrely funny, though it ends with an impression of warmth and hope. I’ve always found this scene powerful; it doesn’t shy away from the poverty and need that’s all around Scrooge, that he helps to cause with his business:

The children are ignorance and want, and they are the children of all mankind. This struck quite a chord with me this week. In these days following the horrible massacre of schoolchildren in Connecticut, which it’s impossible not to think about this season, it seemed as though all of us became parents. Everybody in the country, whether we have children of our own, whether our children are young or grown, we all became parents, we all became moved, responsible, hurt. And maybe that’s the way it should always be: we should always care for one another like we’re all children, which, of course, we are. And we should all take responsibility for ignorance and want. I was joking, yesterday, about finding the definitive meaning of Christmas. Of course, there is no one meaning, it has a different meaning for each person that observes the day, and even for those that leave it alone with indifference or with a bah humbug. I’ve been thinking a lot this season about children, and time passing, and I hope that I can fully understand this as my meaning of Christmas. I was so cranky and impatient this morning with my over-excited boys. I had so much catching up to do after a weekend of working, and the puppy-child cacophony left me feeling stressed and bewildered. But I don’t want to be like that, any more. Christmas is about the returning of the light. Days getting longer and brighter. I want to use that light to capture time as it’s passing, and imprint it somewhere inside of me, so that I recognize the beauty of my boys’ excitement, and their understanding of Christmas. So that I can keep it all year long, like Scrooge kept Christmas. That’s my Christmas wish.

Welladay!! I guess I’m feeling more serious than I thought! Let’s talk about food instead!! These little corn cakes were so tasty! I made a light, flavorful, eggy batter using only cornmeal, which gave it lots of depth and texture. And I fried them in a little olive oil. The mix of chard, chickpeas, roasted red peppers and olives is savory and delicious, warm and juicy and meaty. And very festive, all green, red and gold!

Here’s another track from my new favorite Christmas album…Jimmy Smith’s Silent Night.
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Isaac’s magic brussels sprouts

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Brussels sprouts, carrots, cashews

Brussels sprouts, carrots, cashews

Today’s Sunday playlist is on the subject of love. Not romantic love, but the deep, compassionate love of one person for all the people and the animals of the earth. The love that binds us in communities, and makes us part of one community the size of the whole world. The love that makes peace inevitable and war impossible. The love that makes us glow, together, so that we can keep out the darkness of ignorance, want, and cruelty. Love that makes us powerful as people, and as a people. It’s harder than it sounds, and I need your help!! I’ve made the playlist collaborative, so if you can think of a song, you can add it.

Speaking of love, Isaac loved these brussels sprouts. Yes, the boy who won’t eat anything ate three helpings of this. Never in the history of the world has a mother had to say to her son, “go easy on the sprouts, lad,” and yet I did, the night we ate these. I was worried he’d get a tummy ache, eating all of those tinsy cabbages! It’s quite a simple and quick preparation, and it would work for carrots alone, or for broccoli, or cauliflower, or spinach, or probably any other vegetable you can think of, if you have an intransigent sprout-hater. I used black sesame seeds and black mustard seeds, but you could easily use the paler kind, or leave them out altogether. Similarly, skip the red pepper flakes if you think your child will be put off by them. The important things are the tamari, honey, lime, and cashews. You could serve this with rice or pasta, and you have yourself a quick and tasty meal!! If you serve it over a bed of greens, you have a nice side dish or salad.

Here’s the LOVE playlist, as it now stands. It’s a work-in-progress.

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Roasted brussels sprouts with castelvetrano olives and walnuts

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Brussel sprouts and castelvetrano olives

Brussel sprouts and castelvetrano olives

If The Ordinary had a poetical patron saint, it might be William Carlos Williams. I love so many of his poems and his ideas about poetry and art (as I’ve read and understood them) that I wish I could sit down and talk with him. Or maybe make a meal for him. I wonder if he likes brussels sprouts? I’d certainly serve plum tart for dessert! Williams was from New Jersey, home of The Ordinary. He was a pediatrician as well as a poet, and I’ve spoken in the past about how I like the idea of an artist having a grounding, regular job, and about how serving people as a profession seems to make one’s art more honest, warm, and resonant. Williams believed that poetry was important – necessary, even – to understand the chaos of life, and I’d agree that some form of creative outlet (as an artist or as an appreciator of art) is essential for a life well-lived. He chose as his subjects the ordinary and the every day, the regular people that he encountered as he moved through life. His language celebrates the rhythms of real speech as he heard it all around him, spoken by Americans, who were so close to the cadences and patterns of their words that they almost didn’t notice them. He was an innovator, not only in championing this entirely new, fresh form of American poetry, but also in introducing a variable foot and a triadic line break, based on his observations of the sound of the world around him – of his world. He was generous – he was a mentor to many younger poets, including Allen Ginsberg (also a Jersey boy!). He stressed the importance of the local – of appreciating and understanding your home and the ways that it shaped you – but he was not provincial. He studied and travelled abroad, and was fascinated by new ideas and new forms of art. I love poetry that seems simple, effortless and formless, but which is revealed, upon closer examination to be carefully, lovingly crafted, with attention to every small detail. I love the picture of Williams that I conjure as I read about him and read his poetry. He seemed a passionate, creative, warm and generous spirit. I love the fact that, in an era during which many artists thought of themselves as a superior, supersensitive class, he spoke about “common” people, and not in a deprecating, patronizing fashion, but as such a person himself, sharing his voice and his observations. His poems are spare and beautiful – frequently he describes a moment using images (not ideas but things) and odd particular details that convey far more meaning and emotion because we make the connections for ourselves.

Between Walls

the back wings
of the

hospital where
nothing

will grow lie
cinders

In which shine
the broken

pieces of a green
bottle

Salad of warm brussel sprouts

Salad of warm brussel sprouts

Speaking of bottle green, have you ever seen such a pretty salad? We bought a giant alien-looking sprig of brussels sprouts. I cut half of them from the stalk, roasted them, and tossed them with walnuts, arugula and castelvetrano olives, to make a sort of warm salad, or vegetable side dish. I dressed it with melted butter and balsamic. That’s right! A butter dressing for a salad. I thought it was ridiculously tasty – salty, juicy, and crunchy all at once. Even Isaac liked the brussel sprouts! I think they get a bad name, like many brassica, because they’re stinky if you broil them. But they’re lovely if you roast them!

Instead of a song, today, I’ll leave you with Williams reading his most famous poem.

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Chickpea pot pie & sweet potato hashbrowns

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Back when I had a real job, about a million years ago, I was project editor on a book that revealed the secrets of being a successful entrepreneur. It was all about money, obviously, with a lot of attention devoted to marketing. People were consumers, first and foremost, and they could be manipulated into buying things if you made them feel a lack or made them feel bad about themselves in some way. It struck me as so sad and cynical, and I still think about it, particularly this time of year when the market-targeting-messages are coming thick and fast. It’s holiday season, and we’re all taking the time to be thankful. This year, I’ll tell you that as well as being incredibly grateful for the things I have, I’m going to declare my gratitude for the things I don’t have, that I don’t want. I’m grateful that I’m at a place in my life that nobody can shame me into wanting something I don’t need, or make me feel so bad about myself that I believe somebody can sell me something to make everything okay. Believe me, I still have plenty of insecurities, but I know what they are, they’re my familiars, and I will not let anybody exploit them for financial gain. I do not want longer eyelashes, I do not want perfect children, I do not want my children to have everything that they think they want, I do not want a bigger house or a cleverer car, I do not want quilted toilet paper, I do not want to be the life of the party, most of the time I don’t even want to go to the party any more, I do not want a smarter faster phone, I do not want cheaper cable TV, or any cable TV, because I do not want to watch your commercials. I’m thankful to be liberated from fabricated need!!

Chickpea pot pie

I do want to bake nice warm comforting meals that I dream up in the nice warm comfort of my happily eccentric brain. This is (obviously) modeled on a chicken pot pie, but it has chickpeas in it!! I made the chickpeas myself, from scratch, and weirdly, this is the first time I’ve ever done that. You could easily make this recipe with a can of chickpeas, though. This pie would be vegan if you used margarine instead of butter in the crust. I used a bit of olive oil in my crust, because the other week I didn’t have enough butter, and added olive oil and it turned out nice and flaky, so I thought I’d try it again. I thought the sweet potato hash browns turned out well!! I’ve never quite taken to sweet potatoes, because they don’t seem to get crispy like regular potatoes. They did this time!! I fried them in butter, with a bit of cheddar and rosemary, and they were lovely!!

Sweet potato hash browns

Here’s Tom Waits with Step Right Up. Live, in 1977!

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Spicy sweet roasted radish and turnip relish

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Radish and turnip relish

Attention! From henceforth, The Ordinary will be called The Clio Chronicles! All Clio all the time. News about Clio, pictures of Clio, songs about Clio. I’m joking, of course, but it’s amazing how quickly a little creature like this can take over your life. It’s wonderful how you can fall in love with a soft, warm, madly kissing, ludicrously cuddly little rat-tailed dog after so short an acquaintance. Last week we had a talk about whether or not to get the puppy, and there really aren’t very many rational reasons to get a dog. And yet I felt like I needed a dog, I needed this dog. And now that she’s here I can’t imagine not having her. At night we try to get her to sleep at the foot of the bed, but by morning she’s slithered up to my pillow, and she curls up there, whuffling in my ear and pressing her hot little body against me. We have dog dreams in our house again! Our Steenbeck died six months ago, and having a puppy doesn’t ease that pain. In some ways, having Clio around is completely bewildering. I don’t deal with change very well, even good change, particularly this time of year. This is a change that I very strongly advocated. I was a ridiculously bratty basket case all last week, because I wanted Clio so badly. But even this change makes me feel a little melancholy. She’s colored very differently than Steenbeck, but some of her expressions and reactions are so startlingly like Steenbeck, that I get lost in time…I all feel confused about the past in the future. It’s as though the strength of my aching loss has brought my memories alive.

Clio!


She’s a funny little girl, though. She’s a bright, scampering little rascal, with smart sea grey eyes and golden grey ears. She’s sassy like this relish! We got some little asian turnips in our CSA, as well as some more radishes. I’d roasted some radishes a few weeks ago, and enjoyed them, so I thought I’d try it again, this time with sweet carrots and sweet-sharp turnips. I coated them with a sweet sauce of ginger, cayenne and brown sugar (but you could use honey.) I thought the flavors were nice together – very different, but complementary. We ate it with savory tarts and croquettes. I liked it a lot mixed simply with basmati rice.

Here’s Soul Captives by Bob Marley. I had this song stuck in my head all night. Not the whole song, just the line, “time slips away without warning.”

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Collards, tomatoes, olives, and pecans and THE ORDINARY MANIFESTO

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Collards, olives, and pecans


Today marks the one-year anniversary of this blog! Our little Ordinary is growing up. I’ve rambled on from week to week, with no apparent purpose or direction. Sometime over the summer, on a warm, golden, unplanned day, the kind it hurts to think about now that it’s getting cold and every moment is scheduled, I sat beside a creek watching my boys catch water bugs. I thought about The Ordinary, and I realized that it has a pattern and a purpose. I’ve been struggling to define it in my head, but I think I do actually have a hidden agenda, and it all stems from the idea of ordinariness. I’d like to celbrate the ordinary, and the day-to-day, and to say that ordinary things, well-done and well-observed, take on beauty and value. When I realized this, in the summer, I got very excited like a little kid, and thought about writing a manifesto (which is something I would have done as a child). And then, like a little kid, I got distracted, and other concerns took over. But on this, the auspicious occasion of our one-year anniversary, I’d like to attempt to collect my addled thoughts in…

THE ORDINARY MANIFESTO

* We believe, as the Specials say, that nobody is special, which means that everybody is. Everybody is strange and surprising and capable of remarkable things.

* We believe that there’s great value in just being alive, staying alive, and keeping the ones you love alive, if you notice everything and question everything as you move through life.

* I joke a lot about championing mediocrity and lack of ambition, but I’m speaking of those things as they relate to our current definition of success. We believe that the way we define success, and the achievements that we value and reward in our society are skewed. Compassion, kindness and imagination deserve more recognition than wealth, fame, or salesmanship, and are worth passionately pursuing.

* We believe that there’s value in all jobs, if they’re done with love and care, and …

* … We believe that this includes the job of caring for a home and raising children. It’s a cliché to say that this is the hardest or most important job, but there is some truth to that old chestnut. Nobody should be criticized for maintaining a career outside the home while they raise children, but nobody should be deemed a failure if they decide to put that career on hold. We realize that it can seem like the most ordinary job at times, in its relentless everyday-ness, so it is important to notice everything, and to approach it with creativity.

* We believe that creativity is valuable – for each person and for all people in a society. This is true on a large scale – in the creation of books and films and music, (and the reception of those things), but it is true on the small scale of the ordinary as well. Day-to-day life can be elevated by the application of imagination and observation. Preparing meals, for instance, which seems like a tedious chore to many, can become a source of joy as well as sustenance. In all creative endeavors, as in life, soul, grace, and honesty are more important than cleverness or talent.

* We believe there’s great beauty in simple things, if they’re well-seasoned. This is true in art and food and life.

* We believe there’s beauty in economy – in using every part of something – in having what you need and using what you have.

* We believe there’s beauty in the every day – in things that you do every day. There’s beauty in the rhythm and the pattern and the expected, and in the times that the pattern changes, even for a moment, which can make you step outside of your expectations and seem very perfect.

* We believe that there’s beauty in art that celebrates the ordinary, and in ordinary life lived as art. When something is captured and observed, when it is noticed, it can become important.

* We believe it’s important to find balance in your life – to find a way that you’re comfortable taking things from the world and giving them back to the world.

So that’s it, for now! These observations are subject to change and open to discussion!!

Collards, tomatoes, olives and pecans might seem like a simple dish with which to celebrate The Ordinary’s birthday, but I think it’s perfect. It’s made of fairly humble foods, but it’s one of my favorite things I’ve made in some time. It uses vegetables we’ve gotten from the farm, it’s very simply seasoned, but it turned out to have such a nice combination of flavors and textures. Sweet, spicy, salty, acidic, and soft and crunchy, all at the same time. It was a very delightful surprise.

Here’s a short list of ONE songs, to mark the occasion.

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Collards with spicy soft potatoes

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Collards and potatoes

We had a slow weekend at work, and I passed the time by reading some of the free publications in the lobby. Welladay! One particular publication had me in such a tizzy that I stood in the wait station banging my forehead against a shelf and muttering aloud, to the amusement of my co-workers. It was an editorial about honesty, and in particular about the value of honesty in politics. (Aha! I thought, he’ll discuss Paul Ryan’s little flight of fancy at the Republican National Convention.) I knew I shouldn’t start reading it. I knew I should have stopped reading it. But, I tell you, it was like a verbal train wreck. I couldn’t look away. As a former copyeditor, reading this editorial gave me the vapors. The author’s style is very distinctive. He begins by stating an opinion. Generally a far-fetched opinion, and one designed to offend as many people as possible. Then he says, “You might not agree with this, you probably don’t agree with this. But you can’t dispute it. It is a fact, an indisputable fact. They’ve done studies.” Does he say who has done which studies, or tell you where to find them? He does not. He’ll do this several times in his little essay, and you can feel him shivering with delight at the idea that he’s making so many people angry, but that they can’t dispute his incisive reasoning. And then he makes lists. Halfway through a sentence he’ll stop and try to define something and he’ll tie himself in so many knots that he gets lost and wanders for half a paragraph, and then he’ll try to find his way back into the sentence, and bring it in for a landing, but it’s too late. Ironically, this week he derailed himself by attempting to define the word, “ignorance.”

Oddly, I was thinking about honesty on the way to work this weekend. I remember discovering, when I was little, that telling a lie was a lot more trouble than it was worth, because you had to remember the lie that you told, and it generally spawned more lies, and you had to remember those as well. Oh, what a confusion! I value honesty in human beings, of the not-telling-a-lie variety. And I value emotional honesty, as well, in art, and music, and film, and literature. In my opinion, all of the cleverness and skill and talent in the world are worth nothing if they’re not backed by emotional honesty. It’s a difficult quality to define, but you know it when you see it. For me, it’s closely connected to soulfulness and grace – two other indefinable but necessary qualities. And, as I was thinking about it this weekend, I realized that part of the reason I love certain hip hop artists is that they contain high levels of these particular elements. It’s a fact. You might not agree with me, but you can’t dispute it, because it’s indisputable. They’ve done studies. So many studies.

For instance, Goodie Mob’s Soul Food, which I know I’ve mentioned before, is, to me, full of honesty and, well, soul. And they mention collards, which allows me to gracefully guide this train of thought into the station. We got some collards from the farm, and I was thrilled. I thought about preparing them in a similar style to a dish we have at our favorite Ethiopian restaurant. Flavorful, but simple, with soft, comforting boiled potatoes. So that’s what I did. I really loved this dish! I think I practically ate the whole thing all by myself, and growled at anybody that tried to take a spoonful.

Here’s Goodie Mob’s Soul Food. (again!)

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Fried green tomato pakoras and cilantro, tamarind, almond sauce

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Fried green tomato pakoras

September 11, 2001 was a perfect golden day, just like today. We had just moved to the town we now live in from Boston. It felt like coming home. I felt as glowingly hopeful as the weather. And then, of course, everything changed. So much has been written and spoken about that day – I feel like there are no more words for it. Everybody has a story of where they were, and how they heard, and friends that they lost. It’s impossible to forget the dizzying feeling of standing in a bright green world, with a vast, clear blue sky overhead, thinking about the horror occurring so nearby. And what a tangled mess in the years that followed, when the tragedy was cynically exploited to keep us in a constant state of fear, to build support for a war that caused so much more death. Our world changed, and it kept on changing, with all of the lies, and mistrust, and disappointment. And little did we know, in our own small world, how soon our life would change – Malcolm was born exactly ten months later. And, to be honest, half of his class was born around the same time. September 11 babies. Because it’s also impossible to forget the feeling of clinging to life and love and hope. It sounds trite and saccharine now, as I write it, but it was such a strong, renewing feeling at that time. It’s discombobulating to think about Malcolm’s life, sometimes, to think about his bright, strong, creative spirit, and to think that his whole life we’ve been at war, or preparing for war.

Little Malcolm

Phew, I was not going to go on like this! There are no more words, she says, and then she rambles on and on! I was going to talk about tomatoes. Tomatoes – they have such a lovely life cycle, where we live. They grow all summer, the little sweet ones ripening early, a delightful promise of more to come. The weighty, ripe, beautiful late summer tomatoes come all at once, so warm and sweet and juicy, and they continue on into autumn, as their leaves wither around them, and the fruit glows like bright stained glass. I went picking last week, and I got a lot of green tomatoes, because I find them an inspiring challenge. As I was picking I got very excited with the idea of making these fried green tomato pakoras. Hooboy they were good! The batter perfectly crisp and tasty, the tomatoes inside soft and just the right amount sweet. The sauce was good too – cilantro and jalapenos from the farm, brightened by tamarind and tempered by almonds.

Cilantro almond tamarind sauce

Here’s Talib Kweli’s The Proud, which is one of the most honest and intelligent songs about 9/11 and how complicated it was (and it samples Nina Simone!)

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