Cauliflower leek purée

Cauliflower leek purée

Cauliflower leek purée

Here at The Ordinary, we believe it’s time to bring our focus back to the ordinary. We’ve been watching the show Connections, and it’s fascinating. It follows James Burke, looking sharp in a white leisure suit, as he travels the world showing us how our history is a tangled network of invention and discovery and technological advances. The pattern is complicated and far-ranging, but as he unravels history, we see a clear trail leading from country to country and epoch to epoch. Sometimes we’re out at sea, sometimes we’re on dry land, sometimes we’re working within the protection of the church and sometimes we’re running from their inquisition. The thing that struck me as particularly interesting, especially ordinary, is the fact that most of the advances came at the hands of regular working people trying to make their job a little less tedious. Often we don’t even know their names, these clerks and craftsmen. And it’s never just one big moment of inspiration, it’s a series of small, unexpected steps, one discovery leading to another, until some smart man decides to put his name on the invention and take all the credit for it. It’s strange how nothing really changes: the aristocrats in 18th century France didn’t think about the tedious complicated process of weaving their fancy silks any more than I think about the intricate construction of my iPhone every time I use it. It’s inspiring to think that any of us, if we’re paying attention and awake to the possibilities, can create something new and useful: some new way of looking at the world, some device to make work a little easier, and give us more time to really live. Of course, Connections starts with an apocalyptic vision of the world in which we’re so completely dependent on technology that everything breaks down because of one faulty switch. And that was the seventies. So maybe we’ve come full circle, and we’ve come to the part of the tangle when we give it a pull and it all comes unravelled. Maybe the inventions we come up with should be about the really living part, and not the working. We should come up with new ways to hold on to the part of us that makes us alive and connected as humans.

I really liked this puree! It’s partway between a sauce and a vegetable dish, and it’s delicious. We ate it with the last pie I posted about, but you could eat it with just about anything. Or you could add some broth and make a tasty soup.

Here’s Bob Marley with Redemption Song
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Wild rice & french lentils with roasted mushrooms & butternut squash with cauliflower and carrot puréee

Wild rice, french lentils and roasted vegetables

We’ve had our power back for over a week now – we’ve had it back as long as we’d lost it. But I still have dreams every night that we don’t have power, and I wake up in a panic. I’m embarrassed that it affected me so strongly, but I’m not alone in my residual stressedness. I’ve talked to many people around town who say that they, too, are having trouble recovering from the incident. They say it feels like getting over the flu – they feel physically tired and draggy and unwell. It’s stress! So strange and powerful a force. The other day on the radio we heard a news story about people driven out of their home by war – worried about keeping their families warm and fed through the coming winter. A small part of me thought, “I know what that feels like!” And then the rest of me thought – “no you do not! Don’t be absurd! You have no idea!” We were anxious and uncomfortable, but we were never really in danger, once the storm had passed. We had a fully stocked grocery store 15 minutes away. We have a house, with walls that keep out the worst of the cold, even when the heat isn’t on, and with doors that lock. We have relatives an hour away who got power back before we did. This is something I think about quite frequently – even before the storm hit. I think about people who don’t have my comfortable life. Who don’t have the luxuries that I’ve come to consider necessities – hot water, electricity, my choice of pretty much any food I can think of. I think about refugees and fugitives – people driven out of their homes by war or occupation. In my own life, I’ve come to realize that it’s the small, every-day things that ultimately make me happy or anxious or disgruntled. I wonder if it’s the same for people who are completely unsettled and unstable. I found myself so undone by … what? anxiety? Discomfort? … that I couldn’t concentrate on much of anything, large or small. I’d been so anxious about the election – so worried that Obama wouldn’t win, but on election night I couldn’t concentrate on the results coming in, and I couldn’t let myself feel as happy and relieved as I should have that he won. I could only feel anxious about when we’d get our power back. I couldn’t think clearly about the bigger political picture. It made me wonder about times and places when the bigger political situation causes stressful personal circumstances. Can you find enough strength and hope to change the situation when you’re brought down by anxiety about your next meal, or when you don’t have a safe, warm home, and winter is coming?

I like wild rice, but I don’t cook it very often, because I’m so comfortable cooking basmati, that it’s a worry-free situation for me. Quick, tasty and dependable. This dish combines wild rice with basmati and french lentils. It’s very autumnal, especially with the addition of roasted butternut squash and mushrooms, and the flavorings of sage and rosemary. I thought this was really tasty – savory, a bit sweet, a bit smoky with the cheese. Comforting! I made a purée of cauliflower and carrots to go with this, and flavored it with sweet smoky spices like cardamom and ginger. Sweet and soft where the rice is earthy and full of texture. A nice combination!

Here’s Police on My Back by The Clash. It might sound silly, but this is one of those songs that gets me to thinking about how you find hope and happiness when your life is dangerously uncertain.
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