Kitchen Basics #1: Brown Sugar, Baby

It started out with an "Oops, I forgot," as well as an on-going effort to bring home fewer plastic bags. Once upon a time, it wouldn't have mattered, because brown sugar came in a paper box. Now it's a plastic bag.

In this house we use cane sugar. According to the SF Chronicle, cane sugar and sugar from sugar beets do not perform the same way, especially in baking.

White sugar still comes wrapped in paper, only - surprise! - in a Four pound package, not the once-upon-a-time standard of five. Apparently, the price of sugar has increased significantly since 2008, so we now get less while paying more.

(We also eat a ton more sugar these days. Well, maybe not a ton, but estimates are that Americans now consume anywhere from 70-140 lbs. of sugar each year, as compared to 5-10 lbs. or so, 150 years ago. I'm sure, though, that back then they pigged out on honey, molasses and rum instead.)

Before Mixing

But we were out of brown sugar, a necessary ingredient for the homemade granola that is served here almost every morning (hell is a place where granola is served every morning, no exceptions...). So, since it was my "oops," I had to make some:

       Brown Sugar

* One cup white sugar

* Two Tablespoons Molasses (for dark brown sugar)

Place both ingredients in a bowl and mix with a fork. It should take about 4 minutes - faster than a trip to the grocery store. Yeah, I know, it looks pretty unpromising to start, but trust me on this one, it really does work.

And because I am a fiend for vanilla, I store my sugar in a container with one vanilla bean tucked inside, a nice touch I learned from Patricia Wells' Bistro Cooking.

Ready to Use

Volunteers of Oakland #2

Spring 2012

I didn't plant it. My best guy didn't plant it. But it was there last year, shoving its way through impossibly thicky-icky clay, from who-knows-where. I wasn't really sure what it was aiming to be, but I waited long enough (not usually a strength of mine) and got the reward.

Dutch iris (iris hollandica), most likely either the Casa Blanca or the White Excelsior variety.  Obviously, easy to grow, though, as far as I know, someone has to plant the rhizomes in the fall. And the squirrels that I am acquainted with are not that thoughtful.

Just for good measure, a second reward this spring, too.

Spring 2013

Learning a Language: A Lesson in Geography

I wasn't the only one who was intrigued with my niece Tamzin's antics with writing lyrics in her invented language, Ingaaric. My friend Mary wrote:

"Checked out your recent blog about Tamzin - brought to mind the country that my daughter and a couple of her friends "invented", starting in middle school, named Tamyeva- with a geography, history, language, culture, and cuisine (I remember that there was no wheat in Tamyeva, and the kids spent lots of time trying to grind rice into flour!)."

Now I've spent plenty of time in fantasy land, staring out the window and gathering wool. Apparently I even had some imagination when I was a kid. But I was more concerned with what streetlights were going to be when they grew up than I was with creating new countries and languages.

So with the rice grinders in mind, I wasted more time looking up what other, better informed people had to say about invented languages. Which led me to Arika Okrent's book, In the Land of Invented Languages. She's been trained as a linguist, so she's thought about these kinds of concerns more than most people.

I had fun with this book. So did my best guy. It pushed me to think about "real" languages - specifically, which languages are considered worthy of being taught today.

Ahhh yes, so I goofed off a bit longer to look at what both Pimsleur and Rosetta Stone had on offer.  The usual suspects, as it turns out, except that Pimsleur also offers a language - Twi - which I had never heard of. Turns out it is a language spoken in southern Ghana. Where most of the country's petroleum can be found. That little clue helped explain why Pimsleur, in addition to the expected oil-producers' languages, also lists two separate versions of Armenian: Caspian Sea oil.

But Objiwe? Why that one North American language when there are so many? It took me a while to do the geography... How do you say "Alberta Tar Sands" in Objibwe? I have no idea, but somewhere out there, at least a few non-native speakers are learning.

So imagine if the Iroquois had stayed on top in New York - just think how many languages the hydraulic fracturing people would have to learn. Provided that the Iroquois would even be sufficiently shortsighted to allow fracking...

Rosetta Stone, instead, offers lessons in Latin, describing it thus:  Develop the Latin language skills to enjoy social interaction and learn to share your ideas and opinions. 

Now I just want to know, I really want to know, where I could possibly "enjoy social interaction" in Latin, short of time-travel. Travel to Rome, perhaps, to hobnob with the new Pope? Time-travel seems more plausible, and certainly a lot more entertaining. In the meanwhile, I'll just stick with Italian, Spanish, or maybe even Ingaaric.

Hyenas in Berkeley?

The first time I heard the hyenas' call was years ago, on a damp and misty winter's afternoon on the Fire Trail above the Berkeley campus. I almost sat down in the middle of the path.

Who (what?) in the world could be making that sound? And a very unearthly sound it is. So strange and unfamiliar for this part of the planet that even the dogs being walked there don't prick up their ears. And now this most unusual feature of a weekend hike is unlikely to be heard much longer.

Budget cuts. Yup, after nearly 30 years of useful scientific study, researchers of the largest captive colony of spotted hyenas have been unable to secure future funding. They have been trying various means to resolve the budgetary issues - from launching a fundraising campaign to moving the animals along to the local zoo - but the deadline ain't going away.

I don't know if hyenas have guardian angels, and can't really imagine what a hyena-angel might look like, but this bunch surely needs one, and soon.

Updates: #2

In the thangka room

Some people have all the luck. Our Brazilian friends Marilia and Marco get to hang out at the lovely Ratna Ling Retreat Center. Yeah, yeah, they are on a work-study assignment so they do have to put in some time on the job, but when we went to visit them, it just seemed completely restful and idyllic.

Fun, but hardly idyllic, was the afternoon I spent in the AFSC basement, helping afghans for Afghans prepare those lovely handmade items for shipping to Afghanistan. For a laugh, I even modeled a few of the garments (while disguised behind a borrowed pair of pink glasses). The scarf is mine, though. Thank you Michele!

Annelise practicing the hula
at the Discovery Museum

Once again, we "discovered and went". This time our library cards took us and some favorite friends to the Bay Area Discovery Museum (all for free).

Be aware that a few institutions which were participating in the Discover and Go program in Oakland and Berkeley are no longer on the list - most notably the Academy of Sciences. Nonetheless, there still are loads of wonderful places to visit (for free!).


Two members of Pauline Autet's fun little ceramic project have a new home. On my front porch. They also got a small redesign, and a stronger hanging system, but can go back to their original forms any time. And if someone tries to take them, I too hope that s/he leaves a note. (And an address, so that I can hunt 'em down...)

Peas and carrots. Carrots and peas. Yes, lucky us, we have peas once again. We had carrots, but they were early, and the peas are late, so they never got properly introduced. I am (slowly, very slowly) learning that carrots are probably not the wisest thing to grow in a tiny urban backyard. But I find them to be the absolutely most fun vegetable to harvest. Just that perfect measure of resistance against your steady tug. And if you grew up, as I did, with The Carrot Seed record, then you may just understand.

Noisy Tenants, Nosy Landlady

We have new tenants. They hang out year round in the 'hood, but each spring, when they decide to have another go at child rearing, they take advantage of any local vacancy in the real estate market and move in.

I love it. I try and lure them to my spare unit by making sure that it is all clean and ready. This means fluffing up the dryer lint (don't look at me - they moved it all in there themselves) and evicting the over-wintering wasps. And if the previous tenants left a mess (unhatched eggs, one year), I tidy it all up. Finally, I never require first, last or a deposit.

So just who are these neighbors? Why the oak titmouse, of course, who's call is loud enough to chase away all those who might want to elbow (yup, birds have elbows, too) their way into a great rental space - other titmice, chickadees and wrens.

The box was a lovely gift (lucky me) from Sue Johnson who also made the wood burned image of the chickadee on its side. That was in 2004.

Since then, we have helped "raise" numerous generations of birds. At first, the chickadees had control of the unit. In recent years, the titmice have outmaneuvered the other contenders (they are just a little bit bigger, I think). I keep hoping for a wren to move into the box, but heck, they only moved into this neighborhood a few years ago.

Princess, the other interested, would-be ornithologist on the property, is not so discriminating. As long as there is someone with feathers going in and out of the box, she will perch on the composting bin and purr. Don't know what's going to happen when the babies start to peep...

Jill and the Romanesco Stalk

February 23rd

It happened last year - I was given a packet of seeds for my birthday from a stranger. I didn't even have to give up the old family cow in exchange. But still, the kid with the beanstalk probably got the better deal.

Nonetheless, I was pretty excited. Romanesco broccoli. I had been looking for these babies for a while (even in Italy, in fact, when I had to be consoled with puntarelle and radicchio seeds instead).

Romanesco is a variant form of broccoli, or cauliflower, depending on who you ask. (Most people you ask probably won't even know what you are talking about, but then most people don't eat their broccoli, either.) Those who know, though, know that it can be rather fussy about growing. Which is why it is difficult to find at the market and costly when you do.

March 3rd

(Years ago, inspired by the most perfectly-formed romanesco - a bridal bouquet of a broccoli - I asked the kind cashier at Monterey Market if she would marry me. It's not as if I really wanted to get hitched; somehow I just lost my head. She almost fell over, but wisely turned me down. We've continued just as friends.)

Right, then. I planted the seeds this past summer for a fall planting - the preferred time - and nobody showed up.  So I replanted, replanted and finally got two seedlings. One didn't amount to poo-poo, and the second one wasn't going anywhere fast until it got a load of full-strength horse manure dumped on its head.

March 10th

And then we got somewhere. What started out as a small inch-wide bud expanded to the size of a softball. Every day I had to go observe its progress. I was in love again. I was boring my neighbors. Harvesting was easy and the roasted cauliflower recipe from Epicurious was great. Just be prepared for major shrinkage. Or maybe my people actually do eat their broccoli?

I can't say that I will be growing romanesco again anytime soon. But even without the giants, the golden eggs and the bag of gold, I got a fairy tale's worth of entertainment.

March 16th
In the roasting pan

Already?

It should happen later in the year. It would certainly have more meaning if it were a little later in the year. But this year, springtime has come especially early. Like, by mid-February, it was all well underway.

Maybe because the rains forgot to keep coming? Or because, with the time change so early, the calendar had to get bumped up as well?

The daffodils are always early, but usually the hyacinths wait a little longer than this. Around the corner from our house it is even more obvious: there is a protea bush which has reveled in the mild weather.

Proteas look ancient and slightly primitive, and they are. Their ancestors go back 300 million years (prime dinosaur time) to the continent of Gondwana, which included the present day Antarctica, South America, Africa, New Zealand, India and Australia.

Even though their origins are in the southern hemisphere, they have adjusted to a northern springtime. And bloom like nothing else - start as a tight, little, green pine(ish) cone and blow yourself apart. The show lasts for weeks and weeks. It is impossible to walk past and not stop and stare.

You Never Know What the New Year Will Bring...

Marilia and Marco

Brazilians. Of course. But very unusual Brazilians.

First up, most Brazilians do not ride bicycles very much. Secondly, they certainly do not ride them halfway 'round the world: from Thailand, across much of Southeast Asia to China, on through Kyrgyzstan (try spelling that without help), Kazakhstan, Iran, and into Turkey. Then west across much of Europe to Morocco. And onward to Oakland.

Who are these Brazilians? Well, Marilia is the daughter of a friend who hasn't been sighted for 30ish years and Marco is her best buddy who is crazy adventurous enough to pedal all that way with her. Together they are 2 Bikes and the World.

A little assist from modern-day air travel allowed them and their bikes to arrive here just before the new year. They came for a short visit (their big surprise was that they were not permitted to ride their bikes across the Bay Bridge, but had to take BART instead. I mean, really, it's on the map, already...) and stayed for a week.

They then cycled up the coast to Ratna Ling, a Buddhist (nope, that's right, most Brazilians definitely are not Buddhist) retreat center, where they are spending the next five months working - binding books to help preserve Tibetan Buddhism and culture.

I haven't heard what the bikes are up to, but I'm sure it's something very interesting as well.

Brag, Brag, Brag #6: Tamzin Elliott

Tamzin Elliott
photo courtesy of Ann Elliott (Proud Mom)

Our niece Tamzin is studying at the Bard College Conservatory of Music. Last week a few of her vocal compositions, written in the Ingaaric tradition, were performed at the Morgan Library and Museum in New York. Very cool.

Her songs were well performed, well received, and even garnered a most positive review in the New York Times. Trick is, the "Ingaaric tradition" - music, language and culture - is a complete invention of Tamzin's.

I don't know what the Ingaaric eat, but knowing Tamzin, I can hardly wait to see the cookbook.