Currying Flavor

It's rare that I make up recipes in my head and follow through to executing them in the kitchen. It's rarer still that I do so and feel compelled to share the results. I just don't have that kind of gift for cooking. Most of the time these great ideas I have all add up to meh. An ok meal, but loaded with woulda, shouldas. I'm an expert Monday morning quarterback of meal preparation. But last weekend, things came together differently--call it divine intervention or plain old dumb luck, but I made a really delicious curry without a recipe to follow.

I think it was pretty healthy, but I'll defer to my better qualified nutritionist friends to critique that. Except for the chicken bullion cube, which could be easily replaced by a vegetable broth option, it was vegetarian. Since I was throwing things together mad-scientist style, the measurements I'm providing are approximate. I have no picture since I had no expectation of success and we ate it all before I could think of photographing it. The mayor and the boy both liked it despite the obvious inclusion of tofu. Chicken could be substituted, but what's the sense in that unless you can't tolerate soy? This was tasty and hearty enough that I think that you could leave the tofu out altogether and put in a bit more potato. Anyway, I'll leave it to you to tweak to your heart's content.

Tofu Curry

2 tbsp. olive oil                                1 really large vidalia onion coarsely chopped

6 Baby carrots sliced thin                2 medium red potatoes diced

1 box firm tofu, drained & cubed    2 teaspoons curry powder

6 white mushrooms sliced               1 large green pepper cut in 1/2 inch pieces

1 can of petite diced tomatoes         1 cup chicken or veg broth hot                    

1 tbsp garam masala                        1/2 packet Bartender's pina colada mix (hey, don't judge)

1 tsp corn starch                               red pepper flakes, salt & pepper to taste

In a large skillet, toss in the onions, carrots and olive oil. Heat until onions start getting translucent. Throw in potatoes  and 1 tsp of curry powder keeping the heat high to medium. Let cook for a few minutes stirring often. Push all ingredients to one end of pan and put the tofu in in a single layer so that it browns. Turn tofu with spatula and try to brown on the other side. Add mushrooms, tomatoes and green peppers. Stir in red pepper flakes if using, cover and cook over medium heat while you prepare the sauce. To a cup of very hot bullion/broth add the remaining tsp of curry powder, the garam masala and the pina colada mix. Pour mixture over everything, boil and then simmer for about 10 minutes. Mix cornstarch in a little water and add to thicken. Serve with rice.

Take your time with each stage of this recipe. This amount served three with a tiny little bowl of leftovers. If anything was wrong, the amount of tofu was too much in proportion to the rest. Next time I'd cut it to half or 3/4ths. If you put this curry away and use it the next day, it will taste even better. I hope it comes out right for you if you try it!

The Newest National Holiday--SuperBowl Monday

The kids at the boy's school are all clamoring for a day off Monday so that they can sleep in after the Super Bowl festivities. As a mom, I kind of like this idea. Every year people get the choice to make their school-age football fans go to bed at half-time or let them stay up and be exhausted for school the next day. It's not fun, not fair and not necessary since everyone in every time zone could make a day of it if the game were played and aired four hours earlier than it is. Frankly, it isn't just the kids that suffer. I know a few adult Giants fans who are planning to "work" from home on Monday. But despite the inconvenience to so many, somebody who profits by it has declared Sunday night to be Super Bowl time and we all just suck it up.

I started thinking about the idea of Super Bowl Monday as a national holiday and after much consideration, I think it makes a lot of sense. The Superbowl, and all of the facts and frivolity that surround it, is a perfect microcosmic picture of America as it exists today.

On the positive side, just like our vast, majestic country, the Super Bowl is larger than life. Enormous people in gear that makes them look even more enormous clash in a huge arena in front of thousands of people. The game of football itself provides a platform upon which some of America's best qualities can be exhibited. It's an exciting, hard-driving game that requires teamwork and individual talent--neither being more essential than the other. To appear in the Super Bowl means that you've played fair and come out on top--you are being all that you can be--living the dream. Most football teams are a multi-cultural melting pot and their supporters just as diverse. You've got heroes like Manning, Nicks and Cruz (and ok, maybe Brady). You have villians like Vick, Roethlisberger and Rodgers (can't stand the arrogance there). Fans exude loyalty and spirit--qualities Americans never tire of displaying. Above all, it's fun and Americans like fun. A close, heart-in-your-mouth football game like XLVI promises to be, is a quintessentially American experience.

Let's not overlook the food aspect of the game celebrations because for the partying fans, the repast is nearly as key an element as the size of the TV screen. Both need to be, of course, big. From grocery stores to local pizzarias, everyone is offering to cater. Recipes abound online and every talk show with a food segment is getting you ready for the Sunday night feasting. There is possibly nothing more American about the Super Bowl than the emphasis on chowing down and drinking beer except maybe the lack of emphasis on diet and health. But what the hell, it's one night. Personally, I plan to save up all my weight-watchers points so I can indulge in whatever pig-out we manage to put together.

Less savory, but no less all-American are the gargantuan sums of money that are dedicated to this event without a thought to perspective. Much more all tolled, I'd venture to guess, than is put out on the Fourth of July. Superstars are on hand and nearly all media outlets contribute to the hype for weeks leading up to the game. Last time you saw anything like that for July 4th was in 1976. Football for all of its good qualities is a showcase for capitalism run amok. The value of profit overshadowing any and all other things ethical, moral or even sensible. The idea that people can get unimaginably wealthy for just playing a game or owning a team evinces the games that are played on Wall Street and K Street except for the fact that football doesn't suck up money without delivering on its promises, however shallow. That shallowness, the fact that we can rally so intensely around a sport while failing to expend even the slightest energy or interest on injustices that abound here is also indicative of where we are as a country. Without killing the the pre-Super Bowl mood altogether, suffice it to say that just like our Nation, football has a seamy side that gets a pass (drug use, criminality, head-injuries) because we don't feel like thinking about it and for too many people it pays (quite literally) not to.

But good and bad, this is who we are and where we are in America. The Super Bowl is a swash-buckling celebration of all of our realities good, bad and ugly. And I think that calls for a new national holiday. A day-off to recover from the in-your-face American extravaganza that the Super Bowl has become. Let's do it for the kids (wink, wink)! Oh and by the way, GO BIG BLUE!!!!!

What's In Your Closet?

We all know the saying, "one man's trash is another man's treasure." And there is, perhaps, no better way of illustrating this point then to take a look at the kind of things people like to collect. I'm not talking about the big-time--things that are investment-grade. I mean the small-time collections people have throughout their lives that are seldom worth much monetarily, but hold a lot of meaning for the individual and become a kind of personal quest. Collections delight the collector and often baffle others who say, why the hell would he/she want a collection of that particular item even though they might very well be harboring a vast collection of, let's say, hand-woven Easter baskets, as they speak. Collectors ought never to criticize or look askance, lest the mirror be turned on themselves.

The beauty of collections is that anything will work. There is no end to the variety of items one might come to fancy. Even people living a meager existence can delight in collections--my grandmother, for example, collected buttons. That collection was partly practical because she was also a talented seamstress, but she must have enjoyed it because she had thousands of them and she would let us play with them--only if we were careful--when we visited her. My Irish-twin sister collects rhinos in all forms. For the Ambassador, herself (my other sister) it's turtles. For another friend, it's egg cups. Knowing about a person's collection and what items they do and don't have is handy when you are drawing a blank on gift ideas. For my own children, the girl and the boy, I started collections when they were little and added to them over the years. The girl got Snow Babies and the boy got Lionel Trains.

This group combines my interests in mechanical toys and birds.

Collectibles, things manufactured and released in limited numbers for the sole purpose of collecting and appreciating in value can be fun and I have a few, but in my opinion the best collections consist of items never intended to wind up as collectibles. And coincidentally, that phraseology brings us to one of my collections--wind-up toys. I have collected a number of things over the years, but the wind-ups are my most extensive and fun collection. The toys that started it all were given to me as little holiday gifts by my editor (and subsequent life-long friend) on my first job out of college. That little hopping Valentine's heart and twirling Christmas tree led to the acquisition of hundreds of other mechanical toys that perform amazing feats at the twist of their little white knobs. And that's the kind I like, the little plastic ones with the white knobs. They are relatively inexpensive, accessible and to me highly entertaining. Some of my collection dates from the early to late 70s. Others are fast-food kid's toys. Some of the best are advertising pieces, like the Geico Gecko.

Two old-timers. The elephant raises his rear legs.

An ever irresistible duo.



Babies

For years I kept the wind-ups stowed away, only taking them out occasionally for little test drives. When the boy came along, I would take them out--only if he was careful--and let him see all the funny things they did. Recently, I put them on display in my kitchen so that I could enjoy them all the time. It's funny to see people's reaction to them. Junk they would likely throw out, meticulously collected and displayed. Some love it, some are bemused or bewildered and others say things that are, well,  just a little mean.

It took awhile to find all the members of this group.

Knowing a person has a collection of some sort that they love makes me feel good about them. It gives me a sort of feeling of fellowship. Finding out what someone collects can be surprising and fascinating (and probably downright scary in some instances). It can also, as in my case, be just plain funny--or, ok I'll admit it, odd. Some people's collections I envy. Others, not so much.  What do you collect? I hope you'll write and share about it. I'd love to know.

Soldiers from the V & A Museum in London

2012

Here it is, another new year. And yes, I am excited! You would think that with 40 some odd new years under my belt that the whole "new year, new start, new me" thing would have worn off. After all, I never accomplish the grandiose self-improvement resolutions I make. Each year excuses begin and circumstances arise which I use to circumvent achieving even a modicum of physical fitness. I tell myself, just one more murder mystery or vampire book before I delve seriously back into the philosophers or open my mind to the principles of economics. I aim for a sleeker, smarter, more efficient, better organized me and though I don't fail entirely, I always find myself making the very same plans for the very same reasons the following January.

So why the hope? Why the excitement and sense that this year it will all come together? I think part of it, for all of us, is simply that the giant hurdle of "the holidays" is behind us. Physically, financially and for many emotionally, the holidays are as challenging and exhausting as they are joyous and sustaining. Once they are over, many of the musts of daily life can be replaced with more enjoyable pursuits. And there is something invigorating about the vast dullness of January through March looming ahead and providing nearly nothing to look forward to in the way of good weather or festive occasions. All that time, free from distractions good or bad--it's a pure luxury. It's you time.

Today, I feel like I'm in a good position to make my "me time" count. A lot of the avenues I will pursue, are continuations of last year's resolutions. Things well begun, but attended to less as the year became busier (this blog for example). I'll build on what I learned in the art class I took last spring. It wasn't a waste of time after all. I enjoyed it then and can pursue it again now. I'll keep going to that gym I joined, abandoned for months and rediscovered in December when I needed a mood lifter. Life does get busier as the weather gets better, kids get out of school, then there's back-to-school and the pace begins mounting toward the year-end holiday crescendo. If you recognize the flow, you can eliminate the feeling of failure associated with leaving off with things you want to do--things that make you happy. It helps me somehow to think of it as picking up and carrying on rather than starting all over. It also helps to make resolutions for the right reasons. Replacing the I have tos, I ought tos or I shoulds with a few great I really want tos makes a world of difference. All the other stuff gets done or not and ends up not mattering. But things you've always longed to do, or things that spark your interest now--those are the jewels of life. I'll only do something for any length of time if I really want to do it. It has to make me happy on some level. Maybe you're the same. If you find some of those things maybe you can make it a truly Happy New Year! That's my plan.

Flipped Flops

While I'm not proud, I'm probably not sufficiently ashamed to say that much of my life the past ten years has been lived wearing flip flops. Somewhere along the way, real shoe purchasing became too fraught and taxing (I do have insanely small feet). And flip flops, hundreds of thousands of cheap, easy to fit, easy to find flip flops appeared to eliminate the hassle. So pretty, so versatile--you can get them in every color and every material. There are fancy flip flops, rugged ones, simple and even silly ones. You can get a new pair to match your every mood. And I did, it seems. And for a very long time, it was good.

In the winter, I'd scrounge up a couple of pairs of closed shoes and a pair of boots to wear outside but my heart was never in it. I liked them about as much as I liked the winter itself. Once home, I'd slip back into my flip flops. I waited out the winter and celebrated spring with a few fresh pairs. My feet hurt all the time, but I never attributed it to the lack of proper shoes. After all, I wasn't wearing heels anymore!

Then, one day in April, my feet broke. There is no other way to describe it. One minute they were supporting me and the next minute they stopped. There was ugly bruising and months of recovery. I was forced to take stock of what I was doing to my feet by offering them so little support. I paid real money for some real shoes and found that my feet feel a lot better all the time. I found FitFlops as a fall back--extremely expensive but remarkably comfortable flip flop substitutes (I can't recommend them enough). The whole shoe shopping thing is growing on me (much to the Mayor's dismay) and I've amassed a nice little collection of shoes I can wear all day without pain and hobbling. I've become downright obsessed with winter boots.

But now, what to do with all these beautifully uncomfortable, painfully pretty, classic yet cruel, stylishly sadistic little decorations for the foot? I still kind of love them. It seems a shame to toss them, but they take up space and nobody wants anybody's old flip flops. I can't wear them now. Within an hour or two, the pain comes back and it's just not worth it. So, to the trash heap they go. Of course, I'll keep a few for pedicures and the sake of sentimentality. We've had a lot of fun together and it pains me to throw them away but, alas, not nearly as much as it pains me to wear them!

October Gave a Party . . .

Today is the epitome of a gorgeous fall day. Walk out the door and the world feels alive and electric. I've gotten more done effortlessly today that I do in a week of gloomy, rainy weather dragging myself from chore to chore. Days like this remind me of a poem I learned when I was a little girl. It started, 'October gave a party . . .' hence my title. And October always felt like a party month to me as I reveled in the weather and planned for Halloween, my high holiday, as I've always called it. It's usually a whirlwind of costume making, decorating, parties and some amazing weekends in Salem, Massachusetts.

But this year with the boy being too old to dress up, the main event party I usually attend canceled due to home renovations, and no Salem trip planned, I've got nothing! No agonizing over what to be, no fabric and make-up to buy, no sewing and gluing and swapping personas for a day! Nothing. I will have to content myself this year by looking back at pictures of some of my favorite costumes and handing out treats to the little princesses, ghosts and other creatures that come my way. A lot less work, but also a lot less fun!

Look at a few of my pictures with me and enjoy the rest of the poem:

October's Party
By: George Cooper

October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came—
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.

The Chestnuts came in yellow,
The Oaks in crimson dressed;
The lovely Misses Maple
In scarlet looked their best;
All balanced to their partners,
And gaily fluttered by;
The sight was like a rainbow
New fallen from the sky.

Then, in the rustic hollow,
At hide-and-seek they played,
The party closed at sundown,
And everybody stayed.
Professor Wind played louder;
They flew along the ground;
And then the party ended
In jolly "hands around."

Happy Halloween!

The Lost Art of Letter Writing

Since Ireland, I've been on some kind of personal journey back in time. I've been thinking about and trying to recover old music from iTunes. I've cleaned out and reorganized my desk and bookshelves and searched through hundreds of photos from childhood and on through the years. Ordinarily, I don't make time for looking back. I have no idea what's gotten into me, but I've decided to go with it because the net result has been reclaiming usable house space and, unexpectedly, lots of reminiscence both good and bittersweet.

The best rediscovery by far has been a box of letters and keepsakes that I had not opened in 20 years.  My own private time capsule. I'd saved report cards and papers from elementary school through college. Greeting cards, of course! Mementos from my high school days as a House Page in the U.S. House of Representatives. A Congressional Record signed by Speaker Thomas P. (Tip) O'Neill. An autograph from Dudley Moore that he surrendered in FAO Schwartz where a crazy friend from Arkansas, my Irish twin and I accosted him one day.

Mom

But better than all these goodies were the letters. Hundreds of them. Despite the fact that I spent five hours straight going through them all one day, I've only read a smattering so far. My sister, herself, now a US Ambassador unwittingly created a snap-shot of history by chronicling her first tour of duty in Johannesburg, South Africa during apartheid in monthly letters to me. My Irish twin sister regaled me while I was away in Washington with hilarious anecdotes from home, highlighting the activities of my parents', our friends, herself and even the dog. Rereading the letters from my mother now, who we lost before I got married or became a parent, opens up a new understanding of the fervency of her love for me and the worries I caused her. In one note, she thanks me for not just loving her, but telling her so. Nineteen years gone and she's still making me feel good about myself.

Family you expect to be constant, but I am particularly lucky in that some of my very best friends in the world then remain as near and dear today. I think I will invite each one over individually to share these old treasures and see if we can recall the circumstances, the characters referred to, the love interests and the shared jokes even now with our minds addled by age. Other correspondents I've lost touch with, but may look up on facebook to see what they're doing. In an interesting twist, the least riveting letters now were the ones I'd have looked forward to the most back in the day--the all-important love letters!

One thing that struck me about so many of the letters was how well-written and genuinely entertaining they were. Writing letters and striving to make them interesting or funny was something we all did. A cliche like, "don't forget to write," wasn't just a joke. That IS how we kept in touch--male and female. Unfortunately, it is an art form that we have all but lost with the advent of email and cell phones. Few 20-somethings today will have a treasure trove like mine to open during their mid-life reckonings. In a way, it seems like life is a far more superficial enterprise altogether now. In writing letters, we shared a part of ourselves. We opened up and committed to paper our thoughts, observations and our feeling in a way that isn't imaginable today. In being apart from someone then, we might actually have become closer than ever through letters. Now, we just lose touch.

If you've got one of these boxes lurking around your attic, I encourage you to take a chilly winter's day and devote it to reacquainting yourself with your youth. You may find references to things you'd quite forgotten about yourself (I must have sent homemade cookies to people on a weekly basis, though I don't remember ever doing so!). If you're young now and the only correspondence you get comes via email, I suggest you print them out and put them into a box for safekeeping. Years from now and 10 PCs later, you won't have anything to look back on if you don't.