There's too much exciting happening today to pretend I'm pseudonymous today. First, on the Huffington Post there is a great photographer riffing on my favorite poet, Bob Hicok's, piece about asteroids. Does Bob know Zoe's name is Zoe? I don't think so. Does Erik share my dark sense of foreboding about the end of the world? I don't think so.
And, Sean Lovelace, great writer, extreme nacho-eater, marathon runner, and htmlGiant contributor, interviewed me about This Noisy Egg on htmlGiant.
To you all who already said amazingly nice things on the Facebook, I say I am so lucky to know so many great people. Thank you.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Sam's Club
Perhaps you know my feelings about Sam's Club. If you're like my friend Lydia, who upon reading my food book, said about my Walmart screed, "why don't you tell us how you really feel?" I've only been inside a Walmart once and that was in Hawaii and I just went in to pee. I would have peed on the floor but I'm a lady. Or something.
But also. If you know anything about my feelings about the impending global food shortages, you know how I feel about Costco. Costco is one of our few weapons against the apocalypse. How will you survive the End of Days? With 24 boxes of Macaroni and Cheese. With one full pound of Parmesan. With a case of canned tomatoes.
(Two side stories. Once, for Renn Fayre, the final party of the year after theses were turned in at Reed College, I was an assistant to the makers of the hummus. Or the tabouli. Not, sadly, the meat smoke. Still, I promised the hummus makers that Costco carried a 32 ounce tub of peeled garlic. When we arrived at Costco (my mom sent me to college with a membership), they had no tubs of garlic. We had to peel our own. That is one problem with the Costco. It doesn't always have on the shelves this week what it had on the shelves last week. The second story is also about college and my mother. She sent me to Reed with a case of pencils. I ran out of those pencils just a year ago. That's like 18 years worth of pencils.)
Here's the problem. Flagstaff has no Costco. I emailed Costco the first thing when we moved here. "Will you be moving here soon?", I asked. "There is no "public" information about that," I was told. I took it to mean I just had to wait a couple of weeks. But now, two years later, there is still no Costco.
I was out of parm. I was out of contact cleaning solution. Out of Benadryl and shitake mushrooms. At some point, and, after I had to pointedly boycott Target for their particularly anti-gay attitude lately, I could not go on without. Is Sam's Club worse for the world than Costco? Is there more packaging, more stuff made in China, more jobs lost, more small businesses put out by Sam's Club than Costco. Probably not. And, these are dire times. The food. It is short.
So I went. I paid the $40 for the membership and bought organic nectarines, two pounds of shitakes, grapes, chicken thighs, 24 Sierra Nevadas for $18, six boxes of spaghetti, 5 avocados, pine nuts (oh how I've been holding out for the full pound of pine nuts), two bottles of wine (the Sam's Club in Arizona has benefits over the Sam's Club or the Costco in teetotaling Utah), bread, tortillas (more than we'll ever eat), cold cuts, and Greek yogurt, laundry and dishwasher soap.
The packaging was no more disturbing than at the regular grocery. And, the bonus is, I didn't have to go to the regular grocery store all week. Which is the main goal. Besides providing provisions for the end times. Also, now I can invite you over for dinner. For tortillas. with butter.
p.s. Erik went back two days later and got tissues, paper towels, milk and butter. So do come for the butter.
But also. If you know anything about my feelings about the impending global food shortages, you know how I feel about Costco. Costco is one of our few weapons against the apocalypse. How will you survive the End of Days? With 24 boxes of Macaroni and Cheese. With one full pound of Parmesan. With a case of canned tomatoes.
(Two side stories. Once, for Renn Fayre, the final party of the year after theses were turned in at Reed College, I was an assistant to the makers of the hummus. Or the tabouli. Not, sadly, the meat smoke. Still, I promised the hummus makers that Costco carried a 32 ounce tub of peeled garlic. When we arrived at Costco (my mom sent me to college with a membership), they had no tubs of garlic. We had to peel our own. That is one problem with the Costco. It doesn't always have on the shelves this week what it had on the shelves last week. The second story is also about college and my mother. She sent me to Reed with a case of pencils. I ran out of those pencils just a year ago. That's like 18 years worth of pencils.)
Here's the problem. Flagstaff has no Costco. I emailed Costco the first thing when we moved here. "Will you be moving here soon?", I asked. "There is no "public" information about that," I was told. I took it to mean I just had to wait a couple of weeks. But now, two years later, there is still no Costco.
I was out of parm. I was out of contact cleaning solution. Out of Benadryl and shitake mushrooms. At some point, and, after I had to pointedly boycott Target for their particularly anti-gay attitude lately, I could not go on without. Is Sam's Club worse for the world than Costco? Is there more packaging, more stuff made in China, more jobs lost, more small businesses put out by Sam's Club than Costco. Probably not. And, these are dire times. The food. It is short.
So I went. I paid the $40 for the membership and bought organic nectarines, two pounds of shitakes, grapes, chicken thighs, 24 Sierra Nevadas for $18, six boxes of spaghetti, 5 avocados, pine nuts (oh how I've been holding out for the full pound of pine nuts), two bottles of wine (the Sam's Club in Arizona has benefits over the Sam's Club or the Costco in teetotaling Utah), bread, tortillas (more than we'll ever eat), cold cuts, and Greek yogurt, laundry and dishwasher soap.
The packaging was no more disturbing than at the regular grocery. And, the bonus is, I didn't have to go to the regular grocery store all week. Which is the main goal. Besides providing provisions for the end times. Also, now I can invite you over for dinner. For tortillas. with butter.
p.s. Erik went back two days later and got tissues, paper towels, milk and butter. So do come for the butter.
Monday, September 06, 2010
I love oysters so much
And yet, with that happy title, I must say that there are no oysters here. Or, rather, I've had two oysters in Flagstaff at a place called Buster's which is part Denny's, part country club and really confused about what a seafood platter should offer. I'm still wiping the smell of the smoked salmon off my hands. The two oysters weren't bad but it's hard to enjoy them when you know eating them is probably a bad idea. Oysters in the middle of the desert, in a town where planes fly only to Phoenix, not to the oyster-bearing ocean are probably a bad idea.
We went to Lake Powell.
[Redacted for bad attitude. Val did have a nice bikini.]
We got home Tuesday afternoon at 1:30 just in time for me to teach at 3:00. Some of the teaching was clear and precise. Some of it was a little bit hazy. Like the rest of my mind.
The next night, Wednesday, the trace of the trip , like zebra mussels stuck to the bottom of your boat, was revealed. We went to dinner since we had a coupon and no food in the house. We sat down. We ordered edamame. Zoe laid back against her chair and then sat up quickly. And then she threw up all the edamame she'd just put down. Waitress! Actually, first I used every red, non-absorbent napkin I could find to sop up the goo. Then I asked the waitress if we could get our order to go. Erik took Z to the car and stripped her down and waited for me and Max to come out with dinner, after I took the napkins back to the kitchen so the server didn't have to touch them. Still. I don't think there's tip enough in the world. We hurried home, got Zoe in the bath and sat down to eat. Nothing better than sushi post vomit-cleansing.
Two days later, Max. Same thing. All night. Poor baby. We missed the fair but we did manage to have people over for dinner. We warned them about Max's stomach bug and Zoe's incubating head-cold. They came anyway because they're adventurous, disaster-ready souls. Perhaps we'll take them boating next time although the next boat I go on will be on a boat that heads toward an oyster bed. And a real bed. And a real bathroom.
We went to Lake Powell.
[Redacted for bad attitude. Val did have a nice bikini.]
We got home Tuesday afternoon at 1:30 just in time for me to teach at 3:00. Some of the teaching was clear and precise. Some of it was a little bit hazy. Like the rest of my mind.
The next night, Wednesday, the trace of the trip , like zebra mussels stuck to the bottom of your boat, was revealed. We went to dinner since we had a coupon and no food in the house. We sat down. We ordered edamame. Zoe laid back against her chair and then sat up quickly. And then she threw up all the edamame she'd just put down. Waitress! Actually, first I used every red, non-absorbent napkin I could find to sop up the goo. Then I asked the waitress if we could get our order to go. Erik took Z to the car and stripped her down and waited for me and Max to come out with dinner, after I took the napkins back to the kitchen so the server didn't have to touch them. Still. I don't think there's tip enough in the world. We hurried home, got Zoe in the bath and sat down to eat. Nothing better than sushi post vomit-cleansing.
Two days later, Max. Same thing. All night. Poor baby. We missed the fair but we did manage to have people over for dinner. We warned them about Max's stomach bug and Zoe's incubating head-cold. They came anyway because they're adventurous, disaster-ready souls. Perhaps we'll take them boating next time although the next boat I go on will be on a boat that heads toward an oyster bed. And a real bed. And a real bathroom.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
No, no, that's not what I meant
There are no comments on my last post, and rather than say something not nice, you said nothing at all. Perhaps you're correlating the baby not sleeping with the fact that I feed him sticks and rocks. But no, it's not true. He eats other things. Mainly hummus and bananas. The sticks are just flavoring.
Friday, August 27, 2010
What I'll Miss Most about Summer
In the late afternoon, Erik and Zoe water our new plants. We have Russian sage, echinacea, holly hocks, daisies, sunflowers, lavender, pentemmons, maguerites, locoweed, blue beard, flag grass and a lot of wildflowers that I can't name. Our neighbors, excited about our interest in plants, divide theirs and send them over. Erik rehabilitated a wind-blown blue beard of theirs. It came over as a stick and now is a full fledged plant.
I take Max's comforter out and plop it on the dirt next to the honey locust tree where Zoe has established fairy land. Mushroom, angels, bunnies, frogs, mermaid and even fairy figurines. I bring a glass of wine and sit on the blanket while Zoe flies the fairies by me and Max. Max likes to eat sticks, pine needles and pine cones. I sometimes let him gnaw on rocks but fear that might be bad for his teeth. Pine cones are deceivingly messy. Almost as bad as teething crackers but I sense they taste a little better. When Max has peeled the bark of the stick, it's time to start cooking dinner. I've learned to grill broccoli so if I'm lucky, I can stay outside longer. Sometimes, grilled broccoli tastes like sticks but it's still better than doing any dishes.
I take Max's comforter out and plop it on the dirt next to the honey locust tree where Zoe has established fairy land. Mushroom, angels, bunnies, frogs, mermaid and even fairy figurines. I bring a glass of wine and sit on the blanket while Zoe flies the fairies by me and Max. Max likes to eat sticks, pine needles and pine cones. I sometimes let him gnaw on rocks but fear that might be bad for his teeth. Pine cones are deceivingly messy. Almost as bad as teething crackers but I sense they taste a little better. When Max has peeled the bark of the stick, it's time to start cooking dinner. I've learned to grill broccoli so if I'm lucky, I can stay outside longer. Sometimes, grilled broccoli tastes like sticks but it's still better than doing any dishes.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Overstimulated
I think I saw more people yesterday than I saw all summer. This meant no sleep for me. When people talk, I listen and then I fret. No fewer than six people asked me what Kindergarten Zoe was going to. When I told her public school, they turned their faces away. They couldn't look at my shame. Also. One student emailed to say he was sorry he called me by my first name. Also I asked for red wine instead of a martini on a hot day in June. I remembered two of the nineteen names I learned. I ate a sandwich standing up, meaning I ate mayonnaise off my fingers.
I'm not quite ready for school to begin. I need to submerge slowly rather than dive in. One person on Monday. Maybe two on Tuesday. By November I can probably handle the attention of a full class.
In other non sleeping news, Max does not do it. Why sleep when you can pretend to eat all night. He doesn't eat. He nibbles like a bunny rabbit. He falls asleep nibbling but when I dare to suggest he go sleep in some way not attached to me, he wakes up indignant. Like I'm starving him to death. I've started putting him in his crib. This helps 1%. He still wakes up every two hours. I have resorted to saying "no more milk" and "go to sleep" which has the effect, usually, of making him say, oh my god, I would like no more sleep. Perhaps I can have some milk. Advice appreciated, although from what I understand, boys are like this and I may never sleep again. Which means when, in November, I do have the full attention of the class, I will be fully sleeping on my desk.
I'm not quite ready for school to begin. I need to submerge slowly rather than dive in. One person on Monday. Maybe two on Tuesday. By November I can probably handle the attention of a full class.
In other non sleeping news, Max does not do it. Why sleep when you can pretend to eat all night. He doesn't eat. He nibbles like a bunny rabbit. He falls asleep nibbling but when I dare to suggest he go sleep in some way not attached to me, he wakes up indignant. Like I'm starving him to death. I've started putting him in his crib. This helps 1%. He still wakes up every two hours. I have resorted to saying "no more milk" and "go to sleep" which has the effect, usually, of making him say, oh my god, I would like no more sleep. Perhaps I can have some milk. Advice appreciated, although from what I understand, boys are like this and I may never sleep again. Which means when, in November, I do have the full attention of the class, I will be fully sleeping on my desk.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Beer Fest
These are probably the worst pictures ever taken but I only had my Blackberry. And it's shaky. And I'd had some beers.
As you can see, it was raining. Did I mention that we live in the Pacific Northwest now? In July, it rained every day. We woke up to rain. We went to bed with rain. Some days, it rained so hard there was rain up to the bottom slat of the siding on the outside of the house. The back patio still has a layer of once-mud.
We went to the beer fest anyway. Last year, they canceled the beer fest because of the economy. The economy we couldn't ignore but the rain we could. It turns out, we don't own an umbrella but we do own hats so we hatted up and headed out. It rained as we walked to the festival and it rained as we deliberated how many tickets to by. Because the economy is still rough, I thought we should go with the bargain--ten bucks for twenty pours. Erik questions my economic path and also how much help I'm going to be with drinking these pours. But I've lived in the Northwest! I know how to do the beer fest. (ooh. rhymey).
It turns out twenty pours is about sixty ounces. That's about three beers each. But there's something about the beer fest that suggests quick drinking. So we drank quickly. The sun came out. Zoe made some friends (a very in-your-face girl that went up under the brim of Zoe's hat and said: "HI. DO YOU WANT TO DANCE?" Zoe recovered eventually and danced in the mud. We drank a little more beer. I don't think I drank my full thirty ounces but, judging from the high quality of the pictures, I might have.
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
The crush of days
I don't know what happened between Zoe's birthday, July 16th and now. I do know that my computer is trying to kill me. Or, possibly computers and the internet together. First, Erik's Mac died. I know. Macs never die. And yet? Where is it? At Mac Docs or some Flagstaff knock-off, trying to be resuscitated. Then, four days later, while using Internet Explorer, which is not my browser of choice and therefore, doesn't have all the anti-virus add-ons that I use for Firefox, someone (not to be named) clicked on a website that instantly brought on a virus of death. It was the kind of virus that any time you tried to open an application, a pretend "we'll save your computer with our antiviral software" window appeared. I cried real tears because this is the week the Huffington Post collaboration project goes live. I had nothing to do BUT computer stuff. Email editors, my collaborating friend, artists. I had no back up plan. No Erik computer. Well, I did have my Blackberry, which I do recall crying about for getting for my birthday. I was pregnant and thought I needed no more internet to help me neglect my children. But, apparently, I did! Erik is full of forethought.
So, using my Blackberry and Middlebrow's computer (who promises to blog again, because he and Dr. Write were visiting, I was able to contact my people. And, with their company, I was able to distract myself from all the internet that was passing me by.
On Monday, I got a loaner computer. It took 35 minutes for it to power up. It had no wireless card. It had no Photoshop and no way to open more than one window every six minutes. But, like any good drug substitute, it could access the internet and let me make the first Huff Post response. Yay.
Other internet badness ensued. Both MSN and my university's email system decided to "improve" themselves. Such improvement copied Gmail's "conversation" system, meaning all the emails with the same subject compiled themselves. That's one thing when you're creating the conversations but it's entirely another when it does it after the fact, all the emails whose subject read "grad question" or "thank you" were compiled into one conversation. Only the latest email was replyable to. The internet has driven me to use the word replyable. It also makes me end sentences in prepositions.
On top of the technological difficulties, Mr. Max has employed his own technical difficulties. At night, he seems to think that having a nipple in his mouth is the same thing as sleeping. While fine for him, for me, nippling and sleeping are opposite activities. I blame Erik because months ago, he frowned on giving Max a binky. Now, when certain babies need binkies most, it turns out I'm the binky. I'm working on a technological fix that will allow Erik to be the binky.
The good news is, in between all the business and disaster, I was able to make Zoe's birthday dinner, put up some peaches from our friend's peach tree, and make the best pork chops ever. Perhaps, if my children will let me ignore them further (Zoe is joining me in complaining that Tiffany, not Kevin, should have won Top Chef and Max is surfing on his stomach on his boppy pillow), I will post the recipes at NVP.
I also plan on posting all the stuff that I have to do now that, I gather from the way I'm getting emails in my now-mostly-unusable university email, summer is mostly over (sorry Hightouch. I have been following your plan to not mention summer's demise until it's really over but I couldn't help it.)
Edited to add: I forgot the biggest crush. My laptop had a hairline fracture in the screen. Annoying but hair-like and entirely see-through-able. After it went in to the University computer doctors, it came back with green, ugly splotches where the crack was. This computer is not long for this world. We pray that we need not bury both the Mac and this Dell Latitude together in the backyard. What would the children do with all our attention?
So, using my Blackberry and Middlebrow's computer (who promises to blog again, because he and Dr. Write were visiting, I was able to contact my people. And, with their company, I was able to distract myself from all the internet that was passing me by.
On Monday, I got a loaner computer. It took 35 minutes for it to power up. It had no wireless card. It had no Photoshop and no way to open more than one window every six minutes. But, like any good drug substitute, it could access the internet and let me make the first Huff Post response. Yay.
Other internet badness ensued. Both MSN and my university's email system decided to "improve" themselves. Such improvement copied Gmail's "conversation" system, meaning all the emails with the same subject compiled themselves. That's one thing when you're creating the conversations but it's entirely another when it does it after the fact, all the emails whose subject read "grad question" or "thank you" were compiled into one conversation. Only the latest email was replyable to. The internet has driven me to use the word replyable. It also makes me end sentences in prepositions.
On top of the technological difficulties, Mr. Max has employed his own technical difficulties. At night, he seems to think that having a nipple in his mouth is the same thing as sleeping. While fine for him, for me, nippling and sleeping are opposite activities. I blame Erik because months ago, he frowned on giving Max a binky. Now, when certain babies need binkies most, it turns out I'm the binky. I'm working on a technological fix that will allow Erik to be the binky.
The good news is, in between all the business and disaster, I was able to make Zoe's birthday dinner, put up some peaches from our friend's peach tree, and make the best pork chops ever. Perhaps, if my children will let me ignore them further (Zoe is joining me in complaining that Tiffany, not Kevin, should have won Top Chef and Max is surfing on his stomach on his boppy pillow), I will post the recipes at NVP.
I also plan on posting all the stuff that I have to do now that, I gather from the way I'm getting emails in my now-mostly-unusable university email, summer is mostly over (sorry Hightouch. I have been following your plan to not mention summer's demise until it's really over but I couldn't help it.)
Edited to add: I forgot the biggest crush. My laptop had a hairline fracture in the screen. Annoying but hair-like and entirely see-through-able. After it went in to the University computer doctors, it came back with green, ugly splotches where the crack was. This computer is not long for this world. We pray that we need not bury both the Mac and this Dell Latitude together in the backyard. What would the children do with all our attention?
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Max and dinner
While I'm cooking dinner, Max sits in his high chair, dangling the stethescope we accidentally stole from the hospital when Zoe was there for her RSV. He's fascinated with the way it hangs from the table. He drops the stethescope and makes the honking goose sound that reminds us of Zoe. Erik feeds him two plums he mashed between his fingers. I overboil some extra cauliflower and Erik purees that in the Cuisinart. Zoe feeds it to him until she gets "so tired" that I take over. He also eats some plain cous cous. Except for the pork chop and the plums for peaches, Max ate a lot for what we ate for dinner. He needed a bath after. So did the floor but it was very good that everyone could sit at the table and eat together. After his bath, Erik handed him to me. He tried to eat my shoulder. He's a nestler. And he's always hungry but I think that runs in the family.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Pho for Ali
This is a recipe I have adapted from a Martha Stewart cook book.
For the broth:
4 oz rice noodles.
4 cups Beef Stock.
3 tbsp Nam pla (Asian fish sauce)
5 star anise
6 cloves
2 cinnamon sticks
2 rounds of ginger
1 tsp. ground pepper
To accompany:
1 pound very lean sirloin of beef.
small onion, sliced thinly
jalapeno, sliced
1 lime, quartered
Sriracha Sauce
Hoisin (optional. Makes it too sweet, I think).
Freeze the sirloin for a about an hour so you can slice it thinly.
Soften the noodles in a bowl with hot water.
Combine stock, water fish sauce and spices in a large pot. Simmer broth for one hour (this should reduce the stock enough that you don't need more salt but if you do, add some.)
Slice sirloin as thinly as possible and pop it in the hot broth. Garnish with limes, basil, sriracha, onion and jalapeno. And hoisin if you must.
For the broth:
4 oz rice noodles.
4 cups Beef Stock.
3 tbsp Nam pla (Asian fish sauce)
5 star anise
6 cloves
2 cinnamon sticks
2 rounds of ginger
1 tsp. ground pepper
To accompany:
1 pound very lean sirloin of beef.
small onion, sliced thinly
jalapeno, sliced
1 lime, quartered
Sriracha Sauce
Hoisin (optional. Makes it too sweet, I think).
Freeze the sirloin for a about an hour so you can slice it thinly.
Soften the noodles in a bowl with hot water.
Combine stock, water fish sauce and spices in a large pot. Simmer broth for one hour (this should reduce the stock enough that you don't need more salt but if you do, add some.)
Slice sirloin as thinly as possible and pop it in the hot broth. Garnish with limes, basil, sriracha, onion and jalapeno. And hoisin if you must.
Pho Dai Loc
I was going to write a list of all the things I should have bought in Salt Lake: pants and duck liver, pork belly and pancetta, pajamas for Max and underwear for Zoe, apricots and tomatoes. I should have eaten at the Korean restaurant and at the noodle house but then we got back and I remembered, if I go to many stores, I will be able to buy most of the things I need. It's not the food, really, that I miss in Salt Lake. What I miss in Salt Lake is the people who take Zoe on picnics and feed Max cereal and bananas. I miss the people who grill non-COFC steak for me or love it when I cook them mushrooms. It takes a little while to adjust to being back and not being surrounded by Zoe players and Max admirers. However, I am catching up on Top Chef, Chopped and Next Food Network Star.
Watching those made me starving since I never really watch food shows in the day. All the things I had regretted not eating or buying in Salt Lake paraded in front of me. But I remembered (I was gone for two whole weeks and had forgotten) that if I apply myself I can get most ingredients, maybe even more cheaply and maybe even more locally grown, than I can get in Salt Lake. I can't get my mom, sisters or mother-in-law here more than a couple times a year, but I can get lemons for a dollar a pound. I went to Randall's the Butcher for chicken, bacon, eggs, ground sirloin and pork. Then, I went to the Farmer's Market store for those cheap lemons, even less expensive broccoli and cauliflower. As opposed to going to evil Safeway where I would have spent $125 on the same things, I got more and better for less. $20 at the Farmers Market Store and $28 at the butcher. Yay.
So Zoe, who came with me on these errands, deserved a treat. And we were still starving. We wanted soup. What's her favorite soup? Maybe Tom Gha Kai, but I had just finished writing a story about how Pho Bo cured her of one of her worst coughs. She doesn't have a cough but Flagstaff does have a restaurant that serves Pho. So I took her there. She was cautious. It had been a long time since she'd had the soup. We went to Pho Dai Loc last over a year ago. I worry about this restaurant. It's in the front of one of the run down motels on Route 66. This might not attract the downtown eating folks. And I'm not sure the people who drive down Route 66 in their restored Corvettes are looking for Pho. But today, it was still open. So we went in. There are two other people there at 12:45. Not entirely promising for its future.
But the ingredients are fresh. When we order the Pho Tai and the fried shrimp in case Zoe's palate has regressed (or progressed or gressed in any direction), it came with perfectly thinly sliced sirloin, fresh, not slimy, bean sprouts, lime and great thai basil. The broth is spicy and star anisey like it should be. I give Z some rice noodles and just a little broth to start. She loves them. She asks for more broth but I've already put sriracha sauce in mine. Oh well. She likes red hot peppers on her pizza. So I give her more broth. She drinks that up, along with her ice water, and then asks for more. She eats most of the soup and none of the fried shrimp. Those were left to me which were extra amazing--crunchy, toothy, and with a sweet and sour sauce. I called Erik to ask if he wanted some Pho to go. He did so we ordered another batch. On our way out the door, someone, perhaps one of those restored Corvette drivers, asks how the food is. I tell him delicious. I hope if 10 people go there a day, it won't go out of business.
An additional bonus, inside, they sell Asian Food products that you might not be able to get a Safeway.
Here's what Safeway's good for: milk, cat litter, beer, wine, cheese. And yogurt. Maybe one day, Flagstaff will have a Winder Dairy like Salt Lake does.
But the good news is, you can get Pho in Flagstaff and it's good. It's also just as good at home. Zoe wanted half of Erik's Pho too. She's full of Pho and sriracha like all good five year olds, downtown diners and Route 66 drivers should be.
Watching those made me starving since I never really watch food shows in the day. All the things I had regretted not eating or buying in Salt Lake paraded in front of me. But I remembered (I was gone for two whole weeks and had forgotten) that if I apply myself I can get most ingredients, maybe even more cheaply and maybe even more locally grown, than I can get in Salt Lake. I can't get my mom, sisters or mother-in-law here more than a couple times a year, but I can get lemons for a dollar a pound. I went to Randall's the Butcher for chicken, bacon, eggs, ground sirloin and pork. Then, I went to the Farmer's Market store for those cheap lemons, even less expensive broccoli and cauliflower. As opposed to going to evil Safeway where I would have spent $125 on the same things, I got more and better for less. $20 at the Farmers Market Store and $28 at the butcher. Yay.
So Zoe, who came with me on these errands, deserved a treat. And we were still starving. We wanted soup. What's her favorite soup? Maybe Tom Gha Kai, but I had just finished writing a story about how Pho Bo cured her of one of her worst coughs. She doesn't have a cough but Flagstaff does have a restaurant that serves Pho. So I took her there. She was cautious. It had been a long time since she'd had the soup. We went to Pho Dai Loc last over a year ago. I worry about this restaurant. It's in the front of one of the run down motels on Route 66. This might not attract the downtown eating folks. And I'm not sure the people who drive down Route 66 in their restored Corvettes are looking for Pho. But today, it was still open. So we went in. There are two other people there at 12:45. Not entirely promising for its future.
But the ingredients are fresh. When we order the Pho Tai and the fried shrimp in case Zoe's palate has regressed (or progressed or gressed in any direction), it came with perfectly thinly sliced sirloin, fresh, not slimy, bean sprouts, lime and great thai basil. The broth is spicy and star anisey like it should be. I give Z some rice noodles and just a little broth to start. She loves them. She asks for more broth but I've already put sriracha sauce in mine. Oh well. She likes red hot peppers on her pizza. So I give her more broth. She drinks that up, along with her ice water, and then asks for more. She eats most of the soup and none of the fried shrimp. Those were left to me which were extra amazing--crunchy, toothy, and with a sweet and sour sauce. I called Erik to ask if he wanted some Pho to go. He did so we ordered another batch. On our way out the door, someone, perhaps one of those restored Corvette drivers, asks how the food is. I tell him delicious. I hope if 10 people go there a day, it won't go out of business.
An additional bonus, inside, they sell Asian Food products that you might not be able to get a Safeway.
Here's what Safeway's good for: milk, cat litter, beer, wine, cheese. And yogurt. Maybe one day, Flagstaff will have a Winder Dairy like Salt Lake does.
But the good news is, you can get Pho in Flagstaff and it's good. It's also just as good at home. Zoe wanted half of Erik's Pho too. She's full of Pho and sriracha like all good five year olds, downtown diners and Route 66 drivers should be.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Five
Zoe is almost five. We're celebrating her birthday in Salt Lake with fried chicken from Meier's, homemade cupcakes and potato salad made by our fine relatives. I should have no gifts but I forgot. Zoe's at a kind of hilarious age where she tells everyone who asks that she would like the same thing. She will end up with 14 hula hoops on Friday.
I saw a picture of her from last year and I said to El, my mother-in-law, that's not from last year. She said, that's Italy. And it was Italy which was last year but in the picture, she still looks like a baby. She is the opposite of a baby now. She has a song that goes like this: Candy apple on a stick, makes my heart go 246. Not because I'm dirty. Not because I'm clean. Just because I kissed a boy behind the magazine. That's right. Hiding her naughty romance in the periodicals. That's my kid at 5. Thanks Mountain Jacks Camp! She also learned to swing, hula hoop and go under water in the swimming pool these past two weeks. She's learned that all grown ups do is talk and that if there are no kids around, it is no fun. Also, she says that unless you're dirty, you're not really playing. She has run through the sprinklers and eaten popsicles and complained about not having pretty enough shoes or a pretty dress for her birthday. She wants a princess backpack for her birthday even though she knows I hate princesses. She just looks at me until I come to my senses and say, OK, fine, it's your birthday.
Yesterday, she wouldn't talk to Erik's aunt or cousin in some super shyness but alternates super shyness with moments of true brazenness, like when she asks my mom's boyfriend for a taffy cookie. Sugar and sweets will draw her out with almost anyone.
She just ate a new cereal. Mostly, she just eats Frosted MiniWheats but this morning she said, I'm worried I'll still be hungry after Miniwheats. We gave her some fancy GoLean Kashi cereal instead. She thinks she's full for now.
When she's talking and telling a particularly long story, she'll pause for words she's forgotten and say "whatever it is" with open hands. That's how I see her mostly. She's open to the answer and she'll figure it out. I worry that she's so open that the world will crush her, but I imagine all parents worry about that. It's like being worried you won't be full before you even eat breakfast. Eventually, you just have to eat.
She still eats well. She's kind of off meat right now but still likes sweet potatoes, watermelon, peaches, blueberries, cherries, canteloupe and ice cream, cookies (Mother's Taffy) and regular, salt water taffy. She does not like french fries or ketchup.
She asks that people please don't bring anything yucky to her birthday. Yucky includes ketchup. It also includes mustard to which my mom agrees.
Zoe likes to help feed Max which means everyone is twice as messy as they would be if only Max were feeding himself. Max likes trout, salmon, peaches, blueberries and peaches and rice cereal. After the troupe of cereal eating monkeys sprinkled granules of rice on every surface and in every crevice, Erik asked her wash her hands and then to please go get his camera to which she said to me, my goodness he needs a lot of stuff. It's better just to want one thing--like a hula hoop.
I saw a picture of her from last year and I said to El, my mother-in-law, that's not from last year. She said, that's Italy. And it was Italy which was last year but in the picture, she still looks like a baby. She is the opposite of a baby now. She has a song that goes like this: Candy apple on a stick, makes my heart go 246. Not because I'm dirty. Not because I'm clean. Just because I kissed a boy behind the magazine. That's right. Hiding her naughty romance in the periodicals. That's my kid at 5. Thanks Mountain Jacks Camp! She also learned to swing, hula hoop and go under water in the swimming pool these past two weeks. She's learned that all grown ups do is talk and that if there are no kids around, it is no fun. Also, she says that unless you're dirty, you're not really playing. She has run through the sprinklers and eaten popsicles and complained about not having pretty enough shoes or a pretty dress for her birthday. She wants a princess backpack for her birthday even though she knows I hate princesses. She just looks at me until I come to my senses and say, OK, fine, it's your birthday.
Yesterday, she wouldn't talk to Erik's aunt or cousin in some super shyness but alternates super shyness with moments of true brazenness, like when she asks my mom's boyfriend for a taffy cookie. Sugar and sweets will draw her out with almost anyone.
She just ate a new cereal. Mostly, she just eats Frosted MiniWheats but this morning she said, I'm worried I'll still be hungry after Miniwheats. We gave her some fancy GoLean Kashi cereal instead. She thinks she's full for now.
When she's talking and telling a particularly long story, she'll pause for words she's forgotten and say "whatever it is" with open hands. That's how I see her mostly. She's open to the answer and she'll figure it out. I worry that she's so open that the world will crush her, but I imagine all parents worry about that. It's like being worried you won't be full before you even eat breakfast. Eventually, you just have to eat.
She still eats well. She's kind of off meat right now but still likes sweet potatoes, watermelon, peaches, blueberries, cherries, canteloupe and ice cream, cookies (Mother's Taffy) and regular, salt water taffy. She does not like french fries or ketchup.
She asks that people please don't bring anything yucky to her birthday. Yucky includes ketchup. It also includes mustard to which my mom agrees.
Zoe likes to help feed Max which means everyone is twice as messy as they would be if only Max were feeding himself. Max likes trout, salmon, peaches, blueberries and peaches and rice cereal. After the troupe of cereal eating monkeys sprinkled granules of rice on every surface and in every crevice, Erik asked her wash her hands and then to please go get his camera to which she said to me, my goodness he needs a lot of stuff. It's better just to want one thing--like a hula hoop.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Car Food, Summer Food, Salt Lake Food
So far, they all have one thing in common: hamburger. Something happens in the summer that makes me treat red meat less like dead animal to be served with some sort of reverence and thanks and more like potato chips. I can't eat just one and you just open the grill and out pop pre-made patties that are tossed out onto buns. I eat mine without a bun with a little salt. Just like a potato chip. I can eat two without noticing I ate anything. Sometimes, it requires a hot dog to inform my stomach that dinner is already over. I try to celebrate red meat like I do in the winter by making a more gourmet version. I'll do fancy hamburgers stuffed with jalapenos or with a little frozen pad of butter stuff inside, or, as Val made the other night, lamb burgers with delicious tzatziki sauce. But I'll also just eat whatever brown round thing comes my way. I'm not discriminating, at least in the summer, when it comes to burgers. On the drive up to Salt Lake, I had a double, plain Wendy's hamburger. Then last night, a plain burger from the Training Table. It was delicious dipped in Salt Lakean fry sauce* (making it, I guess, less plain). But I'm feeling cow sad and like I should take a break from the potato-chip like frenzy and eat something less dead and more healthy. Like potato chips. Except I think my in-laws are grilling hamburgers for dinner. Maybe I'll join my mother-in-law and have a garden burger. With fry sauce*.
* Fry sauce is made basically with ketchup and mayonnaise and some secret spices like at Hires Drive-in but at the Training Table, it is made with barbecue sauce and mayonnaise. Homemade versions never compare. Restaurants must add MSG or some other delicious, nearly illegal substance to make it taste so good and keep it so secret.
* Fry sauce is made basically with ketchup and mayonnaise and some secret spices like at Hires Drive-in but at the Training Table, it is made with barbecue sauce and mayonnaise. Homemade versions never compare. Restaurants must add MSG or some other delicious, nearly illegal substance to make it taste so good and keep it so secret.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Grocery Shopping in Flagstaff
I went out for a glass of wine with my colleague from the department last night. She divides her time between here and Oakland. We were talking about how Flag housing is as expensive as Oakland (OK, only almost as), and I said, it's not just the housing, it's the groceries. I cannot buy feta for less than $5.99/lb. If I do see it on sale, it's always that ridiculous kind with basil and tomatoes already somehow filtered in. My colleague said, that's true, when I come in from Oakland, I bring my groceries. When my friend came to camp, she brought pancetta, goat cheese, yogurt, all from Trader Joes. Her pancetta cost less there than store-brand bacon here. I don't even think there is pancetta here.
One can shop in Flag and find most things, it just takes a trip to three or four stores. If it's summer and you can include the farmer's market, then you can find most good things fresh. I shop at Safeway for Frosted MiniWheats and Fruit Roll Ups, Tillamook Cheese, boneless, skinless chicken thighs and butter, Randall's meat market for steaks and pork chops (he does have good bacon, but no pancetta), the store called the Farmer's Market for almonds and apricots, cheap herbs, tortillas, jalepenos and bell peppers, New Frontiers for fish and organic produce (when in season, it's not astronomically expensive), and the CSA/farmer's market for coffee and eggs and surprising vegetables and fruit.
It takes half my life to shop for groceries. And the Farmer's Market here? I have to say, meh. I bought carrots, melon, tomatoes and somehow spent $20. Talk about half my life. I mean half my paycheck. People call Wholefoods Whole Paycheck. They should call Flagstaff Whole Paycheck except that it's neither funny nor full of pun.
Anyway, the pain in the ass that is the grocery shopping in Flagstaff can be made up for in Flagstaff's commitment to concerts in the park. Free concerts where you can bring a blanket and a picnic and snack and hide your drinks for hours. There's a concert a week plus extra fun festivals downtown every other week.
For the picnic tonight I'm making tarragon chicken salad, something with leftover goat cheese, and a salad from Food and Wine. Oooh. I just found the Food and Wine salad--Summer Chopped Salad with Quick-pickled vegetables. It calls for 3 oz goat cheese. Done and done. The goat cheese was on sale at New Frontiers so I bought some. Call it serendipity.
One can shop in Flag and find most things, it just takes a trip to three or four stores. If it's summer and you can include the farmer's market, then you can find most good things fresh. I shop at Safeway for Frosted MiniWheats and Fruit Roll Ups, Tillamook Cheese, boneless, skinless chicken thighs and butter, Randall's meat market for steaks and pork chops (he does have good bacon, but no pancetta), the store called the Farmer's Market for almonds and apricots, cheap herbs, tortillas, jalepenos and bell peppers, New Frontiers for fish and organic produce (when in season, it's not astronomically expensive), and the CSA/farmer's market for coffee and eggs and surprising vegetables and fruit.
It takes half my life to shop for groceries. And the Farmer's Market here? I have to say, meh. I bought carrots, melon, tomatoes and somehow spent $20. Talk about half my life. I mean half my paycheck. People call Wholefoods Whole Paycheck. They should call Flagstaff Whole Paycheck except that it's neither funny nor full of pun.
Anyway, the pain in the ass that is the grocery shopping in Flagstaff can be made up for in Flagstaff's commitment to concerts in the park. Free concerts where you can bring a blanket and a picnic and snack and hide your drinks for hours. There's a concert a week plus extra fun festivals downtown every other week.
For the picnic tonight I'm making tarragon chicken salad, something with leftover goat cheese, and a salad from Food and Wine. Oooh. I just found the Food and Wine salad--Summer Chopped Salad with Quick-pickled vegetables. It calls for 3 oz goat cheese. Done and done. The goat cheese was on sale at New Frontiers so I bought some. Call it serendipity.
Friday, June 25, 2010
The World's Most Expensive Tomatoes
I have delusions of grand tomatoes. Really, growing tomatoes in Salt Lake was easy, even with the bottom rot and the blight, the arid climate, the clay soil. There, I had a sea of grass to combat. I followed a composting regiment I read about from the Salt Lake Tribune. Using the Salt Lake Tribune, I covered a plot of grass with newspaper, topped the newspaper with peat moss, added a layer of compost and topped with top soil. You could plant directly into the layers and the grass would eventually die. I'm not sure it was easier than rototilling up the grass but the hummus the layers made was lush. The tomatoes were happy, red and plentiful. Although the peat moss was expensive, the plants produced a lot of tomatoes to compensate for the cost. I'd say $1/tomato, which is better than the grocery store and they taste infinitely better than the grocery store.
Here, it's tougher. Instead of clay, we have volcanic rock in the soil. It's warm and sunny enough in the day but it drops to almost freezing at night. And, in my fence-less neighborhood, we have deer. The neighbor's spray fake cougar piss on their plants to keep the deer from eating them alive. Essentially, I bought today some deer food. Not only tomatoes but basil, rosemary, sage, tarragon, and them. Delicious deer foods.
So I planted the tomatoes ($4.99 each for really big already plants--I do realize it's almost July) in pots ($14.98 each just for plastic!), and bought 1.5 cubic feet of garden potting soil ($4.97) to fill the pots. If I get a lot of tomatoes, this will be worth it, if I get ten tomatoes, which I expect, I will pay about $4 each. But I've paid that much at the Farmer's Market before. I put the pots on the deck though in order to keep the deer away. This might just invite them up which, if the deck collapses due to heavy-deer mass, that will make the tomatoes ridiculously expensive and then, even more delicious.
I still need to buy tomato cages. Perhaps that will keep the tomato-eying deer at bay.
Here, it's tougher. Instead of clay, we have volcanic rock in the soil. It's warm and sunny enough in the day but it drops to almost freezing at night. And, in my fence-less neighborhood, we have deer. The neighbor's spray fake cougar piss on their plants to keep the deer from eating them alive. Essentially, I bought today some deer food. Not only tomatoes but basil, rosemary, sage, tarragon, and them. Delicious deer foods.
So I planted the tomatoes ($4.99 each for really big already plants--I do realize it's almost July) in pots ($14.98 each just for plastic!), and bought 1.5 cubic feet of garden potting soil ($4.97) to fill the pots. If I get a lot of tomatoes, this will be worth it, if I get ten tomatoes, which I expect, I will pay about $4 each. But I've paid that much at the Farmer's Market before. I put the pots on the deck though in order to keep the deer away. This might just invite them up which, if the deck collapses due to heavy-deer mass, that will make the tomatoes ridiculously expensive and then, even more delicious.
I still need to buy tomato cages. Perhaps that will keep the tomato-eying deer at bay.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Fires fires burning bright
That night, after checking one more possible camping spot (read: Erik is stubborn), we came home at a box of Mac & Cheese and wondered if we should bring the cooler in. We decided not. The friends got in by nine and we stayed up much too late drinking wine and talking about art and writing and kids. I thought, now, why should we remove ourselves from this nice, wine-filled place and go to a place that was potentially bug-filled and at risk for running out of wine. But we got up early--like at 5. I made a breakfast that was not as delicious as the one I had planned to make in the woods. We were in the car and on the road by 9:30. A record for camping for sure, and, except for the one crazy time Erik and I got the kids in the car and left for Salt Lake at 5, a record time for us getting on the road anywhere.
We had a camping spot by 11:00. No bugs. And yet, it wasn't time to make dinner. And we had two babies and two kids. The hiking options were somewhat limited. Still, we managed to occupy ourselves by holding each others' babies, finding sticks, leaves and rocks of certain dimensions and qualities in the woods around us.
Finally, thank god, it was time to make dinner. I made trout fried in bacon fat, served with a side of bacon, potatoes tossed in butter (I restrained myself and did not toss them in bacon fat), and cauliflower, feta and olive baked in the dutch oven, tossed in butter and olive oil because one fat did not seem sufficient. Everything tasted slightly oversalted but was essentially fine.
At dusk we looked for owls.
We slept in our new tent on our new air mattress. I'd been up since five and yet couldn't fall asleep. I had anxiety over what I cannot now remember. Something deep like how much butter is left in the cooler and did we put the garbage in the car or were the bears on their way right now. Erik says he fell off the side of the mattress because he's the heaviest of us four (the kids being in the middle). His weight created a little slide which he slid off and into the tent. He woke up breathing nylon. My neck had a crick in it but otherwise, the sleeping on the mattress far beat out the sleeping on the thermarest which is really just a pillow for the rocks. Good night cozy rocks.
The LA woman friend made the food from here on out but I helped. The first morning, she made delicious croissant french toast. And bacon. For dinner, she made salmon burgers with cucumber, fennel, apple coleslaw and goat cheese, wasabi and yogurt sauce. So even more delicious. I envied the creativity and wanted to eat the sauce all by myself (which I got to, later).
We went on a good hike even with the many kids and LA man friend played guitar by the campfire. Zoe, Max and I slept on the air mattress with Erik in the middle and everyone slept well, for the woods. In the morning, LA Woman made ham-cream, spinach, gratin with poached eggs. Does anything get more perfect than that?
No. And yet, all wasn't perfect. When we started driving out in the morning, my phone finally charged enough to tell me I had three messages from my housesitter. They were garbled with the mountain-reception but I got: fire. evacuation. pack important papers. Poor housesitter was my first thought. What in god's name do you pack for other people?
I finally got good enough reception to get the details. There was a fire behind the Little America. People in neighborhoods close in had been evacuated and in my neighborhood, we were to be ready to go in 15 minutes. Good thing we already had our camping gear.
When we got home, the housesitter said the firemen had come by, and, when she asked what to do if the fire got really close, told her to "spray down the side of the house facing the fire." I pictured the housesitter with the hose, looking around for the firefighters, hoping someone would come by and say, "OK. It's close enough. You can leave now."
The housesitter was amazing. Not only was she there when I'm sure she would rather have been anyplace else so she could grab Box the Cat if need be, she gathered up all our pictures, our computers, Zoe's drawings, Erik's collectible cameras and whatever important documents she could find. She did a better job than I would have done. She remembered Zoe's art. I am thinking of ways to repay her. Possibly I shall buy her her own hose.
The LA folks were coming to stay at the house so they could leave early in the morning. Who wants to stay in a stand-by evac situation? I felt like a horrible hostess. Also, for dinner I made carne asada tacos which were fine but compared to what LA woman made, entirely easy and kind of lame.
We're off stand-by evacuation now although another nearby fire has forced other neighborhoods to evacuate. Ahh, Flagstaff in June. Remember how I complained about Italy last year? At least the ocean was nearby so if fire threatened, you had the option of jumping in.
We had a camping spot by 11:00. No bugs. And yet, it wasn't time to make dinner. And we had two babies and two kids. The hiking options were somewhat limited. Still, we managed to occupy ourselves by holding each others' babies, finding sticks, leaves and rocks of certain dimensions and qualities in the woods around us.
Finally, thank god, it was time to make dinner. I made trout fried in bacon fat, served with a side of bacon, potatoes tossed in butter (I restrained myself and did not toss them in bacon fat), and cauliflower, feta and olive baked in the dutch oven, tossed in butter and olive oil because one fat did not seem sufficient. Everything tasted slightly oversalted but was essentially fine.
At dusk we looked for owls.
We slept in our new tent on our new air mattress. I'd been up since five and yet couldn't fall asleep. I had anxiety over what I cannot now remember. Something deep like how much butter is left in the cooler and did we put the garbage in the car or were the bears on their way right now. Erik says he fell off the side of the mattress because he's the heaviest of us four (the kids being in the middle). His weight created a little slide which he slid off and into the tent. He woke up breathing nylon. My neck had a crick in it but otherwise, the sleeping on the mattress far beat out the sleeping on the thermarest which is really just a pillow for the rocks. Good night cozy rocks.
The LA woman friend made the food from here on out but I helped. The first morning, she made delicious croissant french toast. And bacon. For dinner, she made salmon burgers with cucumber, fennel, apple coleslaw and goat cheese, wasabi and yogurt sauce. So even more delicious. I envied the creativity and wanted to eat the sauce all by myself (which I got to, later).
We went on a good hike even with the many kids and LA man friend played guitar by the campfire. Zoe, Max and I slept on the air mattress with Erik in the middle and everyone slept well, for the woods. In the morning, LA Woman made ham-cream, spinach, gratin with poached eggs. Does anything get more perfect than that?
No. And yet, all wasn't perfect. When we started driving out in the morning, my phone finally charged enough to tell me I had three messages from my housesitter. They were garbled with the mountain-reception but I got: fire. evacuation. pack important papers. Poor housesitter was my first thought. What in god's name do you pack for other people?
I finally got good enough reception to get the details. There was a fire behind the Little America. People in neighborhoods close in had been evacuated and in my neighborhood, we were to be ready to go in 15 minutes. Good thing we already had our camping gear.
When we got home, the housesitter said the firemen had come by, and, when she asked what to do if the fire got really close, told her to "spray down the side of the house facing the fire." I pictured the housesitter with the hose, looking around for the firefighters, hoping someone would come by and say, "OK. It's close enough. You can leave now."
The housesitter was amazing. Not only was she there when I'm sure she would rather have been anyplace else so she could grab Box the Cat if need be, she gathered up all our pictures, our computers, Zoe's drawings, Erik's collectible cameras and whatever important documents she could find. She did a better job than I would have done. She remembered Zoe's art. I am thinking of ways to repay her. Possibly I shall buy her her own hose.
The LA folks were coming to stay at the house so they could leave early in the morning. Who wants to stay in a stand-by evac situation? I felt like a horrible hostess. Also, for dinner I made carne asada tacos which were fine but compared to what LA woman made, entirely easy and kind of lame.
We're off stand-by evacuation now although another nearby fire has forced other neighborhoods to evacuate. Ahh, Flagstaff in June. Remember how I complained about Italy last year? At least the ocean was nearby so if fire threatened, you had the option of jumping in.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Camp Fires
It's hard to complain about sleeping outside when you're sleeping on a queen sized air mattress but I'm sure I will find a way. Oh. Here's a way: Our friends were driving all the way from LA to camp in our general region. Erik and my job was to find a camping spot. Erik wanted to camp where we'd been hiking a couple of weeks ago, near Sycamore Canyon. That was a good plan until the Eagle Something fire started. It was neared the Grand Canyon than Sycamore but still, a little close for comfort.
So we had heard about this great place, West Clear Creek, reminiscent of the Pacific Northwest where the water runs like water, something that doesn't so often happen in the driest month in one of the driest states. Erik bought a book about Arizona Wilderness areas--West Clear Creek was supposedly the most remote region--perfect for camping with kids and dogs. So we drove out Lake Mary Road, past the swampy Mormon Lake and past Happy Jack. We took a right according to the Wilderness book and drove to the end of 81E where we saw a great overlook, a massive canyon where the earth had been peeled back to show all the planet's hard work of layering rocks. It was cool, driving up to the edge. Down at the bottom was the Creek. It didn't feel so northwesty up on the edge although there were plenty of ponderosa. Also, it turns out, plenty of bugs. We were outside of the car for six minutes when we were swarmed by gnats, no-see-ums, mosquitoes. I have never had a bug bite in Arizona--one of the benefits of the waterless world--and yet, I was sticking Max under my shirt and running for the car. Maybe there was something particularly buggy about edges of canyons. So we climbed back in the car, smushing gnats and mosquitoes against the windows, and driving inland. I texted the person who had been camping on West Clear Creek. She texted me an hour's worth of texts. It was much further away than any of us could have thought. I thanked her for spending all her texting money trying to get us to the Pacific Northwest through Arizona back channels but told her we couldn't go that far that night. So we looked on around there.
The next spot, you couldn't even see water, definitely safe for an itch free camping experience. I got out. Erik got out. We got the tent out because damnit, we've been driving for hours, we're only an hour a way from our house and it's getting late and it's our job to find the camping spot for our friends (who, because of their late start, wouldn't be getting there until after dark). Three poles of the four stuck into the tent, Erik said, this is a lot of bugs. We should go, I said. But we've been driving forever. But our friends will never find us back here in the dark, and we'll all be eaten alive. But where will we go? There were bugs everywhere. Mormon Lake, which we'd passed just a few miles before did have water in it--something Erik and I tried to find last summer and couldn't. It had been a wet winter. Wet enough to encourage five million mosquitoes and, since it was so remote, offer them only 4 pink bodies to feast on. We were the only lunch around.
Do you know where we went? Home.
In some ways, this is the biggest success of our camping life. It is hard to admit defeat. The car was packed to the ceiling and the roof rack box was packed to 200 times past capacity. But there was just no way to justify 1000 bug bites just because our mission was to camp.I couldn't imagine inviting these friends from LA to drive all that way to camp in I what was, upon further investigation, just a few weeks ago a swamp.
I texted the LA friends and told them to meet us at our house. They were relieved. They'd been driving all day and still had hours to go. I apologized to the house sitter and as we drove home, counted this as an accomplishment. It's hard for me to change plans in the middle, it's hard for Erik to give up on finding that perfect, and it's hard to get over the frustration of what felt like a wasted day. But it wasn't really wasted. Now we know where the creek is and how to get there. Now we've seen three (Grand, Sycamore and West Clear Creek) vast, revealing canyons. Now we know (and still know, scratch), that there ARE mosquitoes in Arizona. We've seen Lake Mary almost full and Mormon Lake with water. We know our car can, with Tetris like organization, fit 75% of our house in it.
We ate instead of trout pan fried with bacon, roasted cauliflower, olive and feta, and potatoes tossed with butter and Parmesan, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. It was delicious. Our friends showed up at 9 or so and we all got to sleep on regular, airless mattresses.
The next night, we weren't so lucky. More later.
So we had heard about this great place, West Clear Creek, reminiscent of the Pacific Northwest where the water runs like water, something that doesn't so often happen in the driest month in one of the driest states. Erik bought a book about Arizona Wilderness areas--West Clear Creek was supposedly the most remote region--perfect for camping with kids and dogs. So we drove out Lake Mary Road, past the swampy Mormon Lake and past Happy Jack. We took a right according to the Wilderness book and drove to the end of 81E where we saw a great overlook, a massive canyon where the earth had been peeled back to show all the planet's hard work of layering rocks. It was cool, driving up to the edge. Down at the bottom was the Creek. It didn't feel so northwesty up on the edge although there were plenty of ponderosa. Also, it turns out, plenty of bugs. We were outside of the car for six minutes when we were swarmed by gnats, no-see-ums, mosquitoes. I have never had a bug bite in Arizona--one of the benefits of the waterless world--and yet, I was sticking Max under my shirt and running for the car. Maybe there was something particularly buggy about edges of canyons. So we climbed back in the car, smushing gnats and mosquitoes against the windows, and driving inland. I texted the person who had been camping on West Clear Creek. She texted me an hour's worth of texts. It was much further away than any of us could have thought. I thanked her for spending all her texting money trying to get us to the Pacific Northwest through Arizona back channels but told her we couldn't go that far that night. So we looked on around there.
The next spot, you couldn't even see water, definitely safe for an itch free camping experience. I got out. Erik got out. We got the tent out because damnit, we've been driving for hours, we're only an hour a way from our house and it's getting late and it's our job to find the camping spot for our friends (who, because of their late start, wouldn't be getting there until after dark). Three poles of the four stuck into the tent, Erik said, this is a lot of bugs. We should go, I said. But we've been driving forever. But our friends will never find us back here in the dark, and we'll all be eaten alive. But where will we go? There were bugs everywhere. Mormon Lake, which we'd passed just a few miles before did have water in it--something Erik and I tried to find last summer and couldn't. It had been a wet winter. Wet enough to encourage five million mosquitoes and, since it was so remote, offer them only 4 pink bodies to feast on. We were the only lunch around.
Do you know where we went? Home.
In some ways, this is the biggest success of our camping life. It is hard to admit defeat. The car was packed to the ceiling and the roof rack box was packed to 200 times past capacity. But there was just no way to justify 1000 bug bites just because our mission was to camp.I couldn't imagine inviting these friends from LA to drive all that way to camp in I what was, upon further investigation, just a few weeks ago a swamp.
I texted the LA friends and told them to meet us at our house. They were relieved. They'd been driving all day and still had hours to go. I apologized to the house sitter and as we drove home, counted this as an accomplishment. It's hard for me to change plans in the middle, it's hard for Erik to give up on finding that perfect, and it's hard to get over the frustration of what felt like a wasted day. But it wasn't really wasted. Now we know where the creek is and how to get there. Now we've seen three (Grand, Sycamore and West Clear Creek) vast, revealing canyons. Now we know (and still know, scratch), that there ARE mosquitoes in Arizona. We've seen Lake Mary almost full and Mormon Lake with water. We know our car can, with Tetris like organization, fit 75% of our house in it.
We ate instead of trout pan fried with bacon, roasted cauliflower, olive and feta, and potatoes tossed with butter and Parmesan, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. It was delicious. Our friends showed up at 9 or so and we all got to sleep on regular, airless mattresses.
The next night, we weren't so lucky. More later.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Trail Monkeywrenching
I went running today in the forest. Three deer were standing off the side of the road, panicking when they saw Cleo the dog. Cleo, who thinks all animals are just smaller or larger versions of dogs, nodded in their general direction. They still panicked and jumped high over the fence. Little did they know we were heading into the woods too.
There were tree branches, logs really, dotting the trail. They had been pulled onto the path along with large stones and other driving hazards. These people must have been anti-OHV since sometimes, when you go back there, there are the sounds and smells of ATVs. I've never been harassed by one although a motorbike once felt compelled to do wheelies while Z and Erik and I were walking.
I didn't notice any real violent monkeywrenching. There were no caltrops. It added some very low-lying hurdles which added challenge and yet no danger for my low-lying legs. I like the idea of subversive activity in the forest although for all I know, the people in the forest were just gathering firewood and got too lazy and dropped their haul in the middle of the trail. But the placement of the logs seemed too deliberate for that.
Lupine is blooming. So is Indian paintbrush. The forest smelled strangely of dill (dill=food blog consistency?). After my run, I had to go to Target because Zoe appears to have lost the bottom half of her swimming suit. On the way, I first saw possibly those same three deer hop across the street in front of the car. Then, I saw a giant white eagle/sea eagle hovering over lake Elaine. At first I thought it was my gray heron (my because I see it almost every other day) but then I noticed it's sharp, curved beak and waved hello eagle instead.
At Target, I gave in to my desire to sleep while camping and bought an air mattress. Oh the decadence. And it might not even work. Last year, our friends brought their air mattress and I think I teased them about it when it lost air. Now I fear the karma will get me and I'll be sleeping on the un-airy ground without even my thermarest.
Still, if there are monkeywrenchers, deer, eagles and herons in my neighborhood, really must I go sleep in a tent on an unre. liable mattress when my mattress here is so very reliable? Apparently, I must.
There were tree branches, logs really, dotting the trail. They had been pulled onto the path along with large stones and other driving hazards. These people must have been anti-OHV since sometimes, when you go back there, there are the sounds and smells of ATVs. I've never been harassed by one although a motorbike once felt compelled to do wheelies while Z and Erik and I were walking.
I didn't notice any real violent monkeywrenching. There were no caltrops. It added some very low-lying hurdles which added challenge and yet no danger for my low-lying legs. I like the idea of subversive activity in the forest although for all I know, the people in the forest were just gathering firewood and got too lazy and dropped their haul in the middle of the trail. But the placement of the logs seemed too deliberate for that.
Lupine is blooming. So is Indian paintbrush. The forest smelled strangely of dill (dill=food blog consistency?). After my run, I had to go to Target because Zoe appears to have lost the bottom half of her swimming suit. On the way, I first saw possibly those same three deer hop across the street in front of the car. Then, I saw a giant white eagle/sea eagle hovering over lake Elaine. At first I thought it was my gray heron (my because I see it almost every other day) but then I noticed it's sharp, curved beak and waved hello eagle instead.
At Target, I gave in to my desire to sleep while camping and bought an air mattress. Oh the decadence. And it might not even work. Last year, our friends brought their air mattress and I think I teased them about it when it lost air. Now I fear the karma will get me and I'll be sleeping on the un-airy ground without even my thermarest.
Still, if there are monkeywrenchers, deer, eagles and herons in my neighborhood, really must I go sleep in a tent on an unre. liable mattress when my mattress here is so very reliable? Apparently, I must.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Back from Tucson
The nether regions of the state proved culinarily delicious. Or at least interesting. We got to our friends' house and they sustained us with delicious sirloins, potatoes and asparagus. Sirloin from Costco is as tender and flavorful as tenderloins elsewhere. We also went to a new In and Out burger for lunch the next day, further ensuring that I die of a heart attack or guilt from eating so many cows. Our friends also made a breakfast of overnight-egg soaked bread and cinnamon apples and baked it into French Toast.
We went to Maynard's Market in Kitchen which was in an old train depot--possibly my favorite restaurant venue. Their Black Box special was pork loin sous vide meaning it was boiled (I mean vacuum sealed and immersed in a water bath preheated to an exact temperature--like 160 degrees although I'm guessing at the precise number). It came with apples and potatoes sauteed with pork belly, meaning you couldn't go wrong there. Overall, it was good although not to-die-for good. A fine texture. We'll see if I follow through with this month's Food and Wine magazine's lesson on cooking sous vide. They say you can do it with a regular pot and a candy thermometer although they suggest that buying a $450 sous vider is the way to go. Overall, a thumb sideways for the restaurant overall because the poutine had no gravy and just cheese curds which meant the fries were strangely unflavorful and $16 pizzas. The pizzas were delicious but $16! Zoe ordered one!
Speaking of which, here's a difficulty: Zoe, Erik and I ordered food and drinks. Our friends, kid-less, ordered pizza. Erik and I ordered regularly priced ($25 plus) dinners. We divided the bill evenly because, unlike in Grand Rapids, the servers frown on the practice. We got the tip but still. They paid $70 bucks for two pizzas, poutine and 2 drinks. Erik went to the store after for more beer and wine but still, things did not, in this case, come out in the wash. Next time, I'll just bring my sous vider (or candy thermometer) to their house and boil them some meat. And serve it with bacon, which will make everyone happy.
We went to Maynard's Market in Kitchen which was in an old train depot--possibly my favorite restaurant venue. Their Black Box special was pork loin sous vide meaning it was boiled (I mean vacuum sealed and immersed in a water bath preheated to an exact temperature--like 160 degrees although I'm guessing at the precise number). It came with apples and potatoes sauteed with pork belly, meaning you couldn't go wrong there. Overall, it was good although not to-die-for good. A fine texture. We'll see if I follow through with this month's Food and Wine magazine's lesson on cooking sous vide. They say you can do it with a regular pot and a candy thermometer although they suggest that buying a $450 sous vider is the way to go. Overall, a thumb sideways for the restaurant overall because the poutine had no gravy and just cheese curds which meant the fries were strangely unflavorful and $16 pizzas. The pizzas were delicious but $16! Zoe ordered one!
Speaking of which, here's a difficulty: Zoe, Erik and I ordered food and drinks. Our friends, kid-less, ordered pizza. Erik and I ordered regularly priced ($25 plus) dinners. We divided the bill evenly because, unlike in Grand Rapids, the servers frown on the practice. We got the tip but still. They paid $70 bucks for two pizzas, poutine and 2 drinks. Erik went to the store after for more beer and wine but still, things did not, in this case, come out in the wash. Next time, I'll just bring my sous vider (or candy thermometer) to their house and boil them some meat. And serve it with bacon, which will make everyone happy.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
The Last CSA for the season
Zoe said she would go with me to the CSA even though she’s “so tired.” She perked up when she saw the apricots. They were on sale, separate from our weekly pick up. I told her she could pick out a pound and left her to gather up our vegetables. This is our last CSA for the season. I’m sad. I like the challenge of figuring out what to cook with wheat berries, turnips, kale and rapini. In the middle of January, there’s nothing as sunny as a bag full of strange vegetables from the valley. I have a lot of thoughts about Phoenix, but my thinking about the vegetables is, if you’re going to water something, it may as well be food. And here, up at the very tip of Arizona where extreme weather means very difficult vegetable growing, I was grateful for the CSA.
As Zoe piled apricots into the Ziploc bag of pretzels she had just finished. I put the heavy potatoes, grapefruit and the green and yellow squashes on the bottom of the nylon bag I sometimes remember to bring and reuse at the CSA. It’s a stellar day when I remember those bags for the grocery store. On top of the squash, I put the sweet onions, and then had to arrange the tomatoes, peaches and arugula so none of that would get smashed. The eggs I bought were extra. I asked Zoe if we should get some sprouts. She said, sure. She liked sprouts. There really wasn’t a vegetable she didn’t like. I actually think it was she who first ate raw turnips and inspired me to taste them. She was excited about the peaches and the squash but was still piling in the apricots.
“I think that’s all that will fit in that tiny bag.”
There is a summer CSA. Should we sign up or avail ourselves of the Farmer's Market? Am I still supporting my agricultural community by buying what I want at the market or is it better just let the CSA challenge my culinary skills. I do like a challenge.
So what should I make for dinner? The best thing about the CSA is that it upends your expectations. You go with what you’ve got. I was going to make the oven-fried chicken again. Maybe I’ll also oven-fry some of the zucchini. Or maybe I’ll plate the chicken on top of the arugula. Corn always goes with chicken but so do potatoes. Maybe we’d count the corn as a vegetable instead of a starch. I’ll take the zucchini to Tucson, where we're going soon, and saute it with butter and some other surprise there. I can’t wait to find what they grow on the netherside of Phoenix.
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