Return to Jerusalem. The cookbook, that is

I was reminded of this today when my inbox had a recipe from Melissa Name Escapes Me, nyt food writer, with a kind of simplified version of mejadra.

I tried this, the real thing, a couple of years ago when I first heard of Ottolenghi,  at the Bite Club, local library cookbook book group. Led by a great cook also a reference librarian, Dee Whitman.

Ottolenghi is not a simplifier. But the results are wonderful. So I thought hm. All the ingredients, more or less, in the house. Around here to think is to act.

You'll see from the full page of ingredients and instructions that this is not fast food. You pretty much have to adopt the attitude of those old ladies of his childhood, spending all day in the kitchen, waving away hungry kids wanting to know if it's ready, it smells so good.

So here we go. I didn't have Basmati, subbed jasmine brown, didn't have yogurt, ignored it, didn't have allspice, likewise. I did grind the cinnamon stick fresh, -- you did know the cheap cinnamon you get at the supermarket isn't the real thing,  just a poor relation? -- and the black pepper. Didn't have green nor brown lentils, subbed red, added in yellow split peas to make up the amount.

Aside from these adjustments it was exactly the same.. moving right along. It's really a lovely long adventure of the senses with all the ingredients, and grinding the spices, cooking the lentils, then the onions in batches till golden and crisp, then all the other stuff.

Nothing exotic in the ingredients, just the way you use them.

About the cinnamon, I found a source for mine, and the sticks are so much more aromatic and easy to break than supermarket ones. Real southern cooks use them. It's botanically C. Zeylanicum, Ceylon cinnamon. If the world ever gets back on its axis you might fancy trying it.

With Ottolenghi's recipes, you slow down and get into a calm frame of mind. Full disclosure: there was a slight oil burn, but the aloe plant right in the kitchen took care of that.

I saved out the olive oil from cooking the onions, used some of it as a base for the next stage, the toasting of the spices, saved the rest in the fridge for use soon when I fancy onion-flavored oil, probably for soup.

And it's an amazingly good meal, soft along with firm and crunchy, spicy but not blow your head off.  There's enough for several more meals, heat n eat. Future fast food.

If you'd rather do anything than be this involved with a meal, I can still recommend the cookbook, also "Plenty" by the same people.

 It's a book of history, culture, geography, botany, as well as food. The photography alone is worth studying. I rarely buy cookbooks, but this is different.

 It's a middle Eastern education in food. And in herbs and spices, using then generously. None of your eighth of a tsp of this, a smidgen of that. Armloads is more like it. Lentils, rice, chickpeas, can take a lot of flavoring. Boldly go ahead, is the idea.

Not a bad policy in general, come to think of it.

Flowers ready for April

Since popping out to buy flowers is not on right now, I sacrificed a few of my daffodils. I grow them for neighbors to see and enjoy, and passersby to be cheered by them. Not to pick. There are only a couple of clumps.

But needs must, so I cut just the ones the rain was beating down. Made an arrangement with some pruned begonia leaves.

I really need these to keep up my spirits. The smell is delicious, and different for each color.

The flowers on the first of the month is my continuing New Year's resolution. Not hard to keep.

So enjoy, just look and enjoy.






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The Importance of Being Dolliver

Good morning! Dollivers checking in after a hiatus during which Boud totally failed to provide new outfits, but oh well.

 For today's appearance we had to make do with last year's Spring togs. And last year's pic. But it did include hats, we like our hats.

New Year's silk outfits, complete with pink champagne, well, something sparkling. We've been wearing them ever since. Until finally we got to today's gear.

Every Easter,  Boud paints eggs she's blown, all different every year, just a few for special local friends.  This year may be a question, she always says we'll see when we ask. But we bet she does it. We'll break her down.

Meanwhile we're assisting with the daily music. She's singing along with the Cambridge Singers on YouTube, and we're looking for Coldplay or something.

Anyway, whatever works for you, do that, we say. And we're rummaging through our wardrobe basket for Future Appearances.

The Return of the Dollivers

New readers: these are character dolls I knitted and dressed, many outfits for many adventures, and did photoshoots with innocent bystanders, mostly very amused about the whole thing.  They've been on hiatus a while, mainly lying about and bickering.

They had their own blog following and maybe it's time to revive their shenanigans. If you want to see past adventures, check the right hand column for mentions and you'll find they've been around. Meanwhile here they are, loafing.

Left to right NameMe, Call me Michelle, Dreads, Blondie Firstborn, Bette Davis. Of course Blondie got the only fascinator, which caused a near mutiny among the crew. No, Michelle, not J. Crew.

And further down the shelves, tiny dolls mostly gifts

The rightmost is Canadian Doll, created by Dogonart. Look at her expression: stuck here with wooden folk art people, really!
Some of them are complaining that they got a terrible seat, right behind a pillar.

And Dogs on Beds. I knitted these from the Knit your own Dog book, species-accurate.

 Left to right, wire haired terrier, Irish setter, whippet, and mix.

They're from the Dolliver Kennels, under the supervision and training of NameMe. The shaggy dog is my original, not trainable and of dubious lineage.

So look out, reader beware, this is a bunch of characters I struggle to keep up with.

Chivyssoise, a new invention

So after I had some ideas to offer a friend suffering from a surfeit of spuds, I thought, I could do one of those myself. To wit, vichyssoise soup. Leek and potato.

This not being a time when you can pop to the shop to pick up a thing or two, I had to go with what I had.

Plenty of potatoes, onions, chicken stock powder, but no leeks. Thyme but no marjoram. I thought chives, another oniony relative, might work. A handful of fresh cut, now I have to let the pot recover, and another handful from the freezer.

If you have a mandolin, this is where you could use it, to slice up five large potatoes. I tried the slicing side of a grater, but ended up using my big knife. I had to cook longer to allow for the slices being a bit thicker than the recipe demands.

If I do this again, I'll snip the chives before cooking. I thought they might disintegrate as they cooked, which they didn't. Ended up rescuing them from the blade of the immersion blender, and then snipping them.

I also have no bay leaves, but use curry leaves in their place, used a lot in Indian vegetarian cooking, for deep flavoring.

No cream, so I mixed a strong batch of powdered whole milk.

Only seasoning was kosher salt and white pepper.

As you see, the color is a pale green, quite appetizing, and the flavor is amazingly good considering how few ingredients were in it. If you use leeks you use only the white bulbs, and get white soup.

And since chives were important, I've named it Chivyssoise.  I had it hot, but you can have it traditionally cold if you like cold soup.

Ten minutes later. Critic's choice.

Squirrel antics, package, postie note

Yesterday was a full day, every minute packed with seconds, as they say.

Nextdoor neighbor with broken fridge can't get repair done till the fan they ordered arrives, five days.

So I cleared space and he came over with some stuff he won't need before the repair. Left it outside. Looked as if he'd sprayed with sanitizer. So I brought it in with gloved hands, stored in the bottom, unused fridgedrawers, shut them. Washed gloves on hands, washed hands. The new normal.

Then he texted me for a shopping list since he was going anyway. He even scored toilet paper.  I washed the fruit in a bit of detergent, bowl of water.  Other stuff for freezer. I wonder if the virus survives freezing. That would be nice.

Later other neighbors from across the street came with fresh-baked banana bread, left outside, and an offer to shop. Other friends texted. Son texts every morning anyway, always has. And we message in the evening. So I'm pretty well supervised!

And my lovely letter carrier, wanting to save my walk to the postbox, left a package on the step, complete with personal note.

I will write about the contents of the pkg in https://beautifulmetaphor.blogspot.com in a bit.

Meanwhile a squirrel doing acrobatics to get the little thorns on the wild cherry tree, what's left of it. They only like the thorns, eat them all winter after the fruit's gone. Does any naturalist reading here, we have a few, know what's the attraction?  My researches have yielded nothing.

Pictures today not great for various reasons, but you blog with the pictures you've got!

And now an important word about spring tension rods

They play a significant role in the life of a diyer. Kind to the house, no hammering and anchoring, just pressure. Also kind to the diyer, same reasons.

So for The Great Indoors series Part Two, here's a survey of your humble servant's home.

Here a decorative door topper, there a laundry area door, a winter draft proofer for the front door -- replaced in summer by a stripey canvas one for shade--a fancy sail arrangement in the studio, which my neighbor liked so much I made him one in Japanese silk, shower curtains, a disguise for an unattractive over-sink light. 

Some of these were done because of cats wanting to come and go, some I just got on a tear and went and did. Some just look nice and do no other work.

They include an Indian wedding sari, an Indonesian handwoven piece dyed with black walnut, silk scarves, a repurposed pillowcase, as well as regular stuff like window and shower curtains.

I hope the current US bailout includes the manufacturers of spring tension rods, clearly a staple chez Boud.

And you do realize that this is seasonal, in praise of Spring? Well, spring. anyway. We've got plenty of spring tension in our lives right now. So this is a useful form

Underfoot and overhead

After a day of total deloogin' rain yesterday, the sun is back. Not even much mud, which means we needed that rain.

So a nice local walk ensued.

There are whole worlds underfoot

And I'm told trees communicate with each other. I wonder if they talk across species and varieties? These beeches seem very confidential, wonder if their neighbors are included in the decades-long convo?

Back home to find panic next door. Refrigerator broke down, no service can be done during the lockdown. Sooooo, frantic moving of food.

 Their other freezer works and is full from recent big shop. Which is why I have a giant bag of ice stored for them in my freezer, not without some squashing in, mine pretty full too.

 So today we're all glad about that because I took the bag of ice back and they've set up the ice chest to help for now till they figure out what next. Never a dull moment.

 Yesterday was her mother's funeral, away from here, which is how they didn't find out until just now about the breakdown. Whereupon they both had breakdowns,too.

And I thought, having done what I could, I needed to go away and play a bit of music.

Editor's Note: if you are not a sight reader or find early music almost as exciting as watching paint dry, skip the next bit.

I played these three suites, composed by Anonymous, from a 1700s book for solo instrument. Probably, knowing the music world, composed by a woman, but moving right along.. I'm playing them on alto, but they're cleverly designed for soprano and tenor, so I might try that, too.

Then I played a bit of Michael East, Elizabethan feller, and I wanted to show you typical handwritten then printed music. Don't imagine I'm rippling away like Michala, though. Just a competent player. Mostly..

 I got most of my music from workshops run by great players who are often editors and arrangers too, and share what they've arranged, or their colleagues have.

  My interest is in medieval, Renaissance and Elizabethan music, and it's a lively world. And it's a small one, so print runs tend to be small, nowadays from the arranger's computer.

Last evening I rounded off my Alec Guinness Film Festival with The Man in the White Suit, and I don't know if there's ever been a better comedy ensemble than in the Ealing studios.

But now, chop wood, carry water, scrub bathrooms, since I cancelled my cleaning family and them toilets won't scrub themselves.

There's a wonderful word that explains everything is part of life, not an interruption to it. Shakuhachi.

 Always good to remember in frightening times. Everything that happens, welcome or feared, is a part of life. A lot of us are at home now. But our "real" lives are not suspended, they've just taken on a new form for us to explore and learn.

Likewise during my long caregiving years, my life wasn't on hold. It was very full, with happiness in there, too, if you looked for it among the stress.. Sometimes I needed stronger glasses to see it, but it was there.

 In fact it was during those years, that I attended a workshop conducted by a shakuhachi flute master and learned about the concept. Very timely learning.

When the student is ready, the teacher appears!

Bio in one pic

Every now and then, a picture purportedly of one scene suddenly takes on several meanings.

This was a going to be a  commentary on prepping onions for the freezer.

Then I realized it's about more things. The automatic saving of the skins for dyeing, the halving of the onions, no need to get granular about it, stuffing them into recycled bags --  milk now onions, tea now onionskins-- working in art and food prep at the same time, upcycling, planning, all going on every day. Like this.

 Handsome Partner used to wait for a break in the activity to chat, until he realized, after a couple of decades, there wasn't going to be a break. Then he'd complain I was never happy till I'd overdone it. Translation: I haven't figured this out yet. ;)

Like they say about looking at art: what you take away is what you brought to it.  And every drawing, artwork, writing is,  in the end, autobiography.

So this humble genre pic is, inadvertently, the current state of the art of Boud.

Speaking of state of the art, tonight's Guinness Film Festival is the last one I can find on Kanopy, The Man in the White Suit, about a state of the art textile discovery and what happened next.

Field notes on the Isolation Recital, aka Music Challenge

So I had come home from a lovely walk, brisk temps but bright sun,and, there being at least an hour before I scheduled my recorder recital, I closed my eyes for a minute.

And woke up at 3 on the dot. No time to rehearse, oh dear. I did faithfully execute the program I set up, which I deliberately made simple so people wouldn't be put off.

Just as well. Pretty ragged Happy Birthday, which was intended for a specific friend. The little girl next door was playing it on her tiny violin the other day, and she did a better job.

 On to Twinkle twinkle, and blanked on the melody, found myself playing Good King Wenceslas. You know how you can't lay your tongue on the right word and wrong words suggest themselves? Turns out it happens with playing music too.

 Then, the little joke is that  Ah vous dirai-je Maman, the third selection, is the same melody as Twinkle twinkle. So I played Ah vous better than Twinkle twinkle.

Finally,  Ode to Joy is easy to play, in fact my first blessed recorder teacher, Jenny Lehmann, had us try it in our fourth lesson. We were stunned to discover we could play it. Not too many notes, all easy to find. I put that in as a little tribute to her, now long playing with the heavenly ensemble.

When I sadly had to quit violin because physically it was doing my hands in -- violin is very tough physically -- and I was looking for an instrument I could count on to play into old age, Jenny strongly encouraged me, saying that "as a bonus, it'll keep you off the streets". I knew I'd love her right away.

  She lent me  tenor and bass recorders to learn on and see if I could play them ( some people can't get a sound out of the bigger instruments), before trying to buy. They're expensive compared to the economical soprano, the one people start with because it's cheap and easy to carry around.

And she put me in the way of scholarship help to workshops I couldn't stretch my budget for.

She was a model of musicianship, playing several wind instruments in orchestras, editing early, that's medieval and Renaissance,  music and teaching anyone who came by. I had no idea she was well known in early music, just knew her as a funny, gifted, tactful, generous teacher.

And here I am in old age, still playing recorder, as she foretold.

Then, finally, for my last trick, I played, on tenor, Fyre and Lightning, an exciting Elizabethan piece by one of my favorites, Thomas Morley. By this time I'd got my eyes open and did a much better job.

If you joined in, I hope you had a bit of fun as I did, and maybe even thought you might like to play a bit more if you're quarantined or just staying home for other good reasons.

I have to admit some of my own fun was laughing at myself. Endless entertainment to be had there.

If you're unfamiliar with the recorder as a serious grown up instrument, having learned the flutophone in third grade, go to YouTube for virtuoso playing. Look for Michaela Petrie, I think that's the spelling, and go from there. No I can't play like her, I can just admire.

Important daily treats

I think it's really important, living alone, to eat well always, even without the pressure of other hungry people in the house.

The soup I made yesterday was really good, better than previous ones. It's black bean, pink bean, tomato, onion, garlic, homemade curry powder etc, usual suspects.

 And this time I added in a big branch of thyme from the freezer. The whole thing. I fished out the actual twigs after cooking and before blending. The leaves were all cooked off by then. Last I added chunks of raw fish, then simmered till tender. Fresh chives cut over, and it was really good. Also filling.

I never faff about stripping leaves off thyme, just sling in a handful of stems. If it's something like peas, just lift the thyme out, leaving the flavor behind.  Same with roast meat or veggies.

And sometimes I reheat meatballs from the freezer with mash. Diner food. These meatballs were four alarm hot, so the mash had a nice extinguisher effect. Assisted by ketchup.


Always there's a little something for teatime

Here warm fresh cornbread with butter.

Listening to a Joanna Trollope novel today, and one of the characters comments on the odd idea of having a cleaning lady named Petra. Which amused me because I have two, mother and daughter. Plus the Dad. Family business.

 I had to ask them not to come this month, in the interest of safety, everyone's.  I did tentatively keep the next appointment, act of faith.

 I can't afford to pay the whole fee without service,  but sent them a check for half, as a cancellation fee. I know what it's like to have a business where you can't replace income when there's a cancellation. So I thought this only fair, to do the bit I can. They don't have a cancellation fee, tend to reschedule instead. But this situation is different.

 I mentioned it to other clients, in case they haven't been aware, never having had to support themselves with a service biz.

Best we can do.

Important invitation

Tomorrow, Sunday, Western hemisphere,at 3 pm EDT USA, noon Pacific time, Etc, please do the math to get your own time. Minimiss, add 17 hours, I think, which will make it Monday for you!

Anyway, all at once, together, at whatever time that is for you, we're going to make music. On any instrument from Strad to kazoo, Guanerius to banjo, voice, drum, saucepan,anything.

Here's the program:

Starting on the stroke of whatever hour it is for you, play:

1. Happy birthday
2. Twinkle twinkle
3. Ah vous dirai-je Maman*
4. Ode to Joy
5. Any thing you choose. Warsaw Concerto, Yes, we have no Bananas, your choice.

*If you're not familiar with this, check it out. It's just like 2.

Anyway are you in? No audience. Just play or sing like nobody's listening. Chances are, they aren't! And if they look at you funny, say it was  that boud made me do it. If you are talent -scouted for Carnegie Hall, that can't be helped. Could happen to the best of us.

And when you finish, take a bow, then applaud yourself. You're wonderful!

In search of inner resources

I've been listening to quite a bit of music lately, on Twitter and YouTube and realized it's time to get back to making some.

So last evening I dusted off my recorders, greased the joints, assembled the instruments, most of them, found my stand and plenty of music, solo and parts. And I'm ready to play a bit each day.

Left to right, meet soprano, tenor, alto.
The spare room bed is now a music department.

My hands aren't up to the bass, a bit heavy, awkward fingering, but the other voices will give me plenty to do.

 I have a sopranino too, vital for bits of Magic Flute where it does birdsongs. Not much call for it in my life at the moment.

And postcards to voters are under way. Fortunately the important information is printed on, so  my words are just friendly encouragement, as legible as I can manage, which isn't very. The qr code kept registering as I took the picture, so it really works as promised.

Quick food shop this morning. At least what they have off my list.

Keep on! One foot in front of the other.