food – Cairn by Cairn

Blissful Accomplishments

I’m coming to realize that there are two kinds of stress in life, one that can cause depression and illness and one that can push you to be better. The first kind of stress feels as if you’re world is spinning out of control and that there’s nothing you can do to help yourself or fix your situation. That kind of stress can cause depression, illness, and the stress itself can cause more stress, causing your life to continue to spiral downward. Most of us have felt that kind of stress a time or two in our lives and it’s not something most of us would willingly sign up for again. The second kind of stress is the adrenaline packed stress of the moment when you’re under pressure, but you know deep down that you’ll succeed.

Unfortunately, that last few months have brought some incredible challenges that have caused me to experience more than one bout of negative stress. I’m learning to recognize the lack of sleep, queasy stomach, obsessive thoughts, and all the other signs that go along with this type of stress. I haven’t yet found the perfect cure for dealing with this type of stress, but meditation, eating right, and exercise help.

Tonight, however, was all about the adrenaline packed stress of being under the gun and knowing I had to come through. It’s layout week for Pacer and parents are responsible for bring meals for the whole crew. With the amount of kids on staff, everyone usually ends up bring food once or twice a year. Well, tonight it was my turn and after sternly lecturing me that bringing pizza or any other type of fast food, my daughter suggested that I whip up stir fry for twenty. Oh, and I had to make sure there was both a meat lover’s version and a veggie version. Oh, and I had to make sure to bring the rice too. No problem, well except for a few minor details like a full time job that would leave only a couple hours to whip up dinner for 20 before the ravenous teenage hoards were ready to eat.

To top it off, I was too stressed over the weekend over a situation that ended up having an amicable resolution to go grocery shoppping, so not only did I have to whip up stir fry for twenty, I also had to make time after work to run and get the groceries. Once I got off work, the clock started ticking and as soon as I picked hubby up from the train, I raced off to the grocery store to pick up some groceries. One stop at Aldi for the meat and veggies and then another stop at Jewel for spices, soy sauce, and metal serving trays meant that an hour of my 2.5 hours was gone before I even heated up the stove.

The pressure started building as I headed into the kitchen to start chopping up meat and veggies. The pan I needed had to be washed before I started cooking so I turned on some tunes and got down to business. Once the music started flowing, I found myself in the familiar groove of being under pressure, but knowing I could control the outcome and that I would succeed. There was absolutely no way I’d let Cat down. I’d promised her I’d deliver and no matter what, I would.

While the chicken was frying in one pan, I dumped the veggies in another kettle figuring I’d cook them together and them mix them together. The rice went in the rice cooker (thanks Sean) and then I started to chop up the fresh veggies I planned to add to the frozen to make it a little bit more special. By then the aromas of garlic, sesame oil, and meat were filling the kitchen and I was getting into the rhythm of cooking. Once the chicken stir fry was done, I moved on to the beef stir fry and then the veggies. Once a batch was done, I dumped it into an aluminum roasting pan and then moved on to the next. The clock kept ticking down, but I finished within 10 minutes of when I said I’d be done.

I felt like Mom’s catering service when I pulled up to the school and Cat’s editor and chief and one of her friends were waiting outside to carry it inside. Cat didn’t have shoes on so she’d sent the boys to do her bidding. Afterwards she quizzed me about whether the boys were polite or not and made sure to tell me that her “coworkers” loved and appreciate the food.

The evening ended with an incredibly deep sense of bliss and knowing I’d come through for my daughter and knowing that the stress I’d felt had helped push me over the finish line.

Cooking Up Bliss

Secretly I’ve always loved to cook as there is something magickal about mixing up ingredients and creating something special. However, my inner domestic goddess was always doing battle with the person I thought I wanted to be as I NEVER wanted to be labeled a housewife and if I fessed up to loving to cook, someone would label me a housewife.

It’s only been in the last few years that I’ve realized that having a job in corporate America and loving to cook are not mutually exclusive. I have a couple of people to thank for that light bulb moment. The person who gets the most credit is one of my fellow manager’s at work. She bakes like no one’s business and her desserts would be worthy of shelf space at any bakery in the world. She’s also a kick butt type of gal who is former military intelligence. No one would ever mistake her for a housewife. After chowing down on a few of her incredibly delectable treats, I realized that maybe it really is okay to cook in the kitchen and in the boardroom.

Since John has his heart attack, we’ve gotten serious about what we eat and it was mind blowing to read the labels on prepared food and see exactly how much sodium they contain. I realized that if we wanted to eat well and not feel deprived, we’d have to get serious about cooking our own food most nights. I invested in a Heart Healthy Cook Book and between that and the Internet, we’ve been eating healthy and eating well.

I’m also rediscovering my love of cooking and realizing that being in the kitchen surrounded by the wonderful smells of food makes me incredibly happy. I used to dread coming home from work and having to figure out what to fix for dinner because it was just one more chore on my checklist. However, I’ve recently reclaimed that time as my buffer between work and home and now I come home, put my apron on, put on my cooking shoes, turn on some Motown and fix up some wonderfully flavorful (and mostly heart healthy food). While the food is cooking, I do a load of dishes or tidy up and by the time dinner is ready, I’m out of the work zone and into the home zone.

Rediscovering my inner domestic goddess is giving me a deeply satisfying kind of bliss that comes from accepting and acknowledging my whole self and not just the workaday self who heads off to the office to play hardball with the guys.

The Bliss of the Grape

Like most normal kids, I “learned” to drink in college and after more than a few nasty hangovers, I gave up alcohol completely for a while as a realized that there was more to life than my next glass of hooch and that I felt a lot better when I wasn’t going to class hungover.

My drinks of choice in my college years were cheap beer, cheaper champagne, and the occasional strawberry daiquiri. Since drinking in college meant drinking in excess, I never gave myself a chance to realize that stopping at one or two gives you a wonderfully relaxed feeling without the hangover.

Graduating meant moving into the workforce and mixing with real live grownups who were able to go out and have one or two without closing the bar down or worshipping the porcelain god the next morning. I decided that maybe I could dip my toes back into the drinking pool and learn to drink responsibly. The first thing I needed to do was ditch the cheap college booze and learn to appreciate the good stuff.

For me the good stuff is always the sweet drinks that taste good going down and give you a wonderfully mellow feeling. You can keep the hard and nasty stuff that burns going down and tastes like paint thinner (and I learned the hard way, that some of the most expensive stuff also tastes the worst). I discovered Butterscotch schapps while living on Okinawa and for a while it was my drink of choice and even today I’ll sometimes order a buttery nipple (butterscotch schapps mixed with Bailey’s). Even though schapps is supposedly a German drink, when I was in Germany, my German friends were perplexed by my explanation of Butterscotch schnapps. When I finally tracked some down for them to taste, they wrinkled up their noses and told me that this wasn’t real schnapps.

Wine had always struck me as the ultimate grownup drink, something that sophisticated people sipped out of stemmed glasses while looking tremendously blaise about all that life had to offer. I tried wine a couple of times over the past twenty years, but no matter how expensive it was, it always struck me as one step removed from vinager in taste and smell. I tried the cheap stuff, I tried the expensive stuff, I tried red stuff, and I tried white stuff and I didn’t like any of it. That is until I discovered Moscato wines. They have this incredibly sweet and light taste that is perfect for sipping in the evenings. Technically they are dessert wines, but I’ll have a glass with anything and it always seems to taste right.

Moscato wines are made with muscat grapes (although as far as I can tell the terms Moscato and Muscat are often used interchangeably). These grapes are grown in vineyards around the world and are prized for their sweet and floral nature. They are used to make wines, raisins, and other yummy treats. I’ve tried a wide variety of Moscato wines and some of my favorites are the Moscato Allegro from Martin Weyrich winery in California and Sutter Home”s Moscato. Both of those are light and flavorful with next to no bite. Right now I’m drinking Bartenura Moscato D Asti. It has an incredible flavor and one glass gets me to mellow without going past that nice relaxed stage.

It’s not only pure Moscato’s that have woven their spell around me, I’m also learning to appreciate the sweetness of mixed wines like those they make at Georgia Wines. My favorites are those made with Muscadine grapes. According to the Georgia Wines website, Muscadines are “Different than most grapes in that they do not grow in a bunch. They grow two to three together on the vine, are thick-skinned, pulpy, and have large seeds. Their flavor is phenomenal, and their aroma is heavenly. The Muscadine grape makes a most wonderfully delicious sweet wine: incomparable and delectable.” After tasting a few of the wines made with these incredible grapes, I’d have to agree. My two favorites are Georgia on My Mind which is made from a heavenly mix of peaches and Muscadines and Chattanooga Blush. Both of these are sweet and fruity and incredible. Whenever I have a chance, I take a quick trip to Georgia Wines and pick up a bottle or two of these delectable drinks.

I may never be the consumate cosmopolitan sophisticate who goes to wine and cheese tastings on a regular basis, but I’m glad I’ve found my bliss of the vine and am at least able to understand what the attraction is.

French Bliss

I picked up a copy of My Life in France yesterday at Barbara’s Bookstore at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. I had some time to kill while waiting for John’s surgery to be done and after all the hype I’d heard about Julia and Julie, I was curious to read about the real Julia Child. At the time, all that I knew about Julia Child was that she cooked French food, had been in the OSS, and had a TV cooking show.

My earliest impressions of Julia Child came from coming across her TV show on PBS when I was a child and, sad to say, from the Saturday Night Live skits. I hate to admit it, but somehow I gathered that she was rather opinionated and snobbish and not someone I’d like to know. I’m not exactly sure how I drew that conclusion, but suffice to say she wasn’t someone who interested me until the whole Julia and Julie thing came about.

Picking up the book, with the picture of Meryl Street as Julia on the cover and thumbing through it, I was impressed by the humlity and humanity I saw reflected on the pages. I started reading it when I got back to John’s room and I found myself getting drawn into Julia’s foodie adventures. My mouth watered as she described the butter laden treats she learned to cook in France, I felt saddened to read about her having to leave her beloved France, and I cheered for her as she found a publisher who actually got what she was trying to say.

I recognized my own opinionated nature and love of travel in her stories and I was charmed as she described shopping in markets and learning to cook from scratch. I empathized with her in her search for herself in Paris. For although, I was the one with the career while John stayed home, I know how difficult it was for him on Okinawa. It’s hard to be the one following your spouse around to the far corners of the earth. I especially empathized with how hard it must have been for her to go from having a career of her own with the OSS (the precursor to the CIA) to being a dependent spouse.

Some of the recipes Julia cooked, such as the beef bourguignon look as if they would taste incredible, but some of the others like the aspics I’m not sure I could ever bring myself to try. I know that someday soon, I’ll be getting a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking and expiremienting with some of the recipes she cooked. Even if I never become an international celebrity or public foodie, I’ll at least have the bliss of creating and eating wonderful food.

Foodie Bliss

I always thought foodies had to be super obsessed and obese people whose entire lives focused on their next food fix. However, over the past year some careful blog reading and introspection has taught me that being a foodie isn’t about quantity, it’s about quality. Despite living in the land of plenty, we live in a world that is obsessed with the quantity of food we can shovel into our fat little faces (and yes, I get to say fat little faces because all too often, I was the one doing the shoveling).

From seeing folks eating at all you can eat buffets, you’d think that they were seriously thinking that they didn’t know where there next meal was coming from. I’ve been there done that as I used to be a devotee of Ponderosa, Old Country Buffet, and all the other feeding troughs masquerading as restaurants. The funny thing is that even when I was the one at the trough, I was thinking to myself, “So this is why Americans are so fat.” America’s a society truly believes in more more more when it comes to food and that mentality is sticking to our thighs, our butts, and any place else that flab sticks.

We’re taught at an early age that cleaning our plates (even if the food is tasteless, fat filled, junk) is a virtue and that leaving anything behind is a mortal sin. Who among us hasn’t heard about those starving children in Africa? We reward ourselves and our kids with food and then wonder why we’re all fat.

My first glimpse that food should be about quality and not quantity happened three years ago in Amsterdam where I savored perfectly ripe strawberries with two pieces of perfect chocolate. I savored that meal and it filled me up and satisfied more than any of the stomach busting trips to the buffet I’d taken in my life. That lesson came back to me over the past six months as I’ve started reading foodie blogs, shopping for fresh foods, and really taking time to savor my food instead of shovel it in.

Being a foodie is really about enjoying what you eat and making it meaningful. It’s about eating that perfect strawberry when it is perfectly ripe. It’s about savoring a perfectly cooked chicken and enjoying every morsel. I guess the first time I realized that food should be savored and enjoyed and not shoveled. The best part is that being a foodie doesn’t mean I have to give up anything, if I really want a fast food hamburger that’s okay, as long as I savor it and enjoy the experience and knowing I can have my cake and blissful eat it too is pure joy.

Cuban Bliss

Three days in the semi-tropical paradise known as Miami made me believe that Latin Americans really know how to cook. In the three days we were there, we gorged ourselves on awesome Cuban, Brazilian, and Peruvian food. I missed Texas de Brazil the first night in town, but my team is pretty congenial so two of my teammates took me out for a late Cuban dinner and I had beef with onions and black beans and rice, the food was incredibly tasty and even though it was late out, we indulged ourselves in a little Cafe Cubana.

I’m not a coffee drinker, but I will always swill down the incredibly sweet, rich coffee favored in Cuba. It is made like expresso but with sugar added to the brew and it is potently rich. It is usually served in very small cup or shot glasses and it is meant to be savored. Drinking it fills your body with a very intense rush of caffeine and more than one cup will give you the jitters and a serious headache. One of my friends and I both made the mistake of downing three shots of Cafe Cubana in less than an hour and although we both suffered for our over indulgence, it wasn’t enough to make us give up the Cafe Cubana.

We headed back to the Cuban restaurant for lunch the next day and indulged in a feast fit for all of our senses. I indulged in flank steak with chimichurri sauce, ceviche, and plantains. Chimichuri sauce is a mix of parsley, olive oil, and red peppers that is drizzled over the flank steak to create the most amazing flavor. I’d first discovered Chimichurri sauce in Chattanooga of all places and I’d been a fan every since. I often make my own and drizzle it over steaks, but it’s never quite as good as what you get in restuarants. Ceviche is fish cooked in lemon juice and it becomes the most amazingly tender fish you’ve ever put in your mouth. I’ve learned to love certain types of sushi, but I loved ceviche from the first bite I put in my mouth. Plaintains are to Latin America what potatoes are to Ireland and they are served in a variety of ways from mashed like potatoes to fried to cooked with a little brown sugar. We indulged ourselves in sampling all the different ways that plantains were cooked.

Our food fest continued throughout our visit to Miami and on my last day in the land of sun and cigars, one of my good friends took me out to a Peruvian restaurant and we enjoyed a feast. We had Peruvian corn, which has much larger kernels than typical US corn, a wonderful cheese sauce with potatoes, and ceviche. The food was all fresh and tasted delicious and while we were at lunch we talked about life, love, and the wonders of self discovery.

All in all, the food, the fun, and the sun were all blissful in Miami.

Twenty Blisses

I’ve got the Blues again and rather than make you all sit and listen (okay, I know you really don’t listen, but indulge me) to me whine, I figure I’ll do a quick list of 20 Blisses to see if that makes me feel better. A Bliss list is kinda like a gratitude list, but it’s really all about the things that make me feel good and calling it a bliss list lets it be all about self indulgence instead of the things that “I should” be grateful for. So here’s my list of 20 blisses for the day:

My “Together We Can” plaque that was presented to me by the first KUDOS class in the history of the world. Looking at it makes me remember all the fun we had getting together and learning and playing together. It also reminds me of the incredible things I can accomplish when I put my mind to it.

My drawing from Amsterdam that I picked up at the flea market. It reminds me of the beautiful day I spent in Amsterdam cruising the canals, indulging in good food, and seeing Europe.
My wonderful daughter who is so grown up and smart. She’s on her way to DC today for a Journalism Education Association Conference. I’m so proud of how independent and smart she is.
My smart and witty son who is living independently and working very hard to make his way through college.
My loving husband who loves us and is always there for all of us. And who goes out with my friends even when he doesn’t really want to.
Chester and Amedeus, Caitlin’s piggies are adorable and I love the little “wheep wheep” sound that they make. We moved them to the living room while Cat is in Washington, DC and it’s kind of fun to have them down here.
People who believe in me and go to bat for me even when other people are trying to cut me down and keep me from achieving my dreams.

Being able to afford to put our kids through college and send them on excursions like Cat’s trip to DC.
Living in a free country where we can speak our minds, choose the lives and loves we want, pursue happiness.

A beautiful house that keeps us warm in winter and cool in the summer.
Getting to see my buddy Alison today. It always makes me incredibly happy to see her and hang out with her.
the Internet. I know it sounds incredibly shallow, but hanging out on the Internet makes me happy.

The ability to create Websites, write books, and generally be crafty.

Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate…’nuff said.

Old friends and new who are there to listen and be there for me.

Awesome TV shows like Glee that make me laugh and cry at the same time.

Fires in my fireplace that make me feel warm and cozy inside and out.

Luke, my Aussie/Collie mix who is always happy to see me.

The fact that I got the chance to see London and visit the Tower of London and the rest of London’s treasures.

A job. That sounds really lame, but in today’s world I’m happy I have a job to go into that pays the bills.

Despite the crappy start to my day, the fact that I got the opportunity to reset my day to a more blissful ending by taking some time to think about the things that bring me bliss.

Enough Bliss

Despite living in the relatively affluent Northwest Suburbs of Chicago, there are still homeless people living in our community. I saw one on my way to work this morning and it got me thinking about the more, more, more culture that we live in. No one ever believes that they have enough money, a big enough house, an expensive enough car. However, we live in a culture where we have more money and more experiences that almost any culture on earth so the facts about what we really have, don’t match up with our group perception.

I have to admit that there are days when I believe my life would be perfect if I had a better job, more money, etc. etc. However, as I passed that homeless gentleman this morning, it got me thinking that I really do have enough. My basic needs are met and then some: I have beautiful house that provides shelter, we always have food in the fridge, I have clothes to wear, I have a wonderful family, and a great dog.

Looking at the reality of my life, I realized that I’ve bought into the culture myth that climbing the corporate ladder and getting a better job with more status is the be all and end all. Unfortunately, that type of success comes at a price because we are all given but one life to live and and time is not an expandable substance so the more time you spend at work, the less time you have to spend on something else. Despite the undeniable truth that more work doesn’t equal more happiness, our culture values upper mobility and it seems that people who deliberately choose to step back and pursue balance instead of career success are not always appreciated.

I’ve been working through the exercises in Waverly Fitzgerald’s Slow Time and it has opened my eyes to a different way of living. Every time there is a question about how I will spend my time, I remind myself that this is my only life and I ask myself if this is really the best way for me to spend my life. I remind myself that life is a series of trade offs and the more time that I spend at work, the less time there is to spend taking my kids to cool places or spending time enjoying the great people they’ve become. More time at work means less time to write. More time at work means less time for the things that are really important to me.

My life has changed a lot since I started asking reminding myself that this is my one and only life. I’ve started exercising more, seeing a chiropractor to work out the kinks in my back, and spending time cooking real food instead of eating the cardboard junk you buy at the drive through.

There’s no way that I could even begin to claim that I’m perfect and there are still days when I’m running late because I got sucked into work, but overall my life is a little more balanced and I’m a lot more blissful. So here’s to the bliss of enough.

Chocolate Bliss

I discovered an awesome little spice shop in Evanston a few weeks ago called Spice House. Walking into the place is a safari for the spices. They have the most wonderful rubs for meats, herbs de Provence that smells as if the herbs were just picked from the French countryside, and a “Dutched” chocolate that can invoke Nirvana with one sniff.

They also have multiple varieties of vanilla and for a girl who grew up in the country believing that vanilla was what you had when chocolate wasn’t available, discovering true vanilla was a life changing experience. Spice House sells multiple variations of vanilla including extracts from Mexico, Tahiti, and Madagascar. Opening the bottles is like a trip to a far off place that’s full of all the goodness on earth. If the vanilla extract is eye opening, the vanilla sugar is pure bliss. Imagine pure cane sugar mixed with pure vanilla extract and vanilla beans. Opening the jar is an ecstatic experience and this bliss can be eaten right out of the jar. I bought a jar and poured a little into my hand to sample it and was hooked. The sugar has a course texture and rolling it around on my tongue, I knew what decadence really was as I let the sugar dissolve on my tongue and the vanilla flavor explode into my mouth. I bought one jar of this heaven and have yet to cook with it as the flavor is addictive right out of the jar.

Chocolate and vanilla is as a potent combination. The sultry silkiness of the dutched chocolate combined with the sweetness of the vanilla creates heaven on earth. After a little experimenting, I discovered the absolute perfect recipe for hot chocolate. I take about six ounces of milk, two ounces of heavy cream, 3/4 tbs of dutched chocolate, a tbs of sugar, and a drizzle of vanilla paste. I heat it all up until it is the perfect drinking temperature and pour it into a coffee mug. Before I sip it down, I take some time to savor the sweet and tantalizing fragrance and then I sip the ambrosia. This incredible hot chocolate puts me in a very mellow and relaxed mood and helps me to sleep very deeply.

This morning I made the mistake of making my special brew before work thinking it help me chill out and go into work relaxed. And it did put me in a mellow mood, so mellow that it was really difficult to concentrate on the work that needed to be done. From now on, I promise to only enjoy chocolate bliss after work.

Bowl of Bliss

Families are made and not born.

The smell of oil and vinegar always reminds me of Grandma Elda because no matter what was for dinner we always had salad with oil and vinegar served in a wooden salad bowl. Some days the salad was leaf lettuce with tomatoes and other day’s dandelion greens but the dressing was always oil and vinegar with garlic and oregano thrown in for good measure. I loved helping fix the salad. I’d pull the bowl down from the shelf and inhale deeply to catch the faint smell of salads past.

Elda was my grandmother by love and not by blood. My mother and her daughter in-law were friends and she became my babysitter when I was six months old. She diapered my bottom, dried my tears, and taught me to love homemade spaghetti sauce and tomatoes. Grandma lived about six blocks from our house and some days when I was supposed to go home, I managed to “forget” and wangled an invitation to Grandma’s house for dinner. There was always room for one more around her dinner table and I ate countless meals with Grandma Elda, Grandpa Tony, their son George, his wife Joan, and their two daughters Vicki and Joyce who considered themselves my big sisters.

Summer was the best times to be at Grandma’s because during the summer her beautiful gardens were in full bloom and all manners of goodies came from her garden. At Grandma’s I learned to love fresh lettuce, tomatoes straight from the vine, and green beans. During the fall, marathon-canning sessions would take place when Grandma made homemade spaghetti sauce and all manners of jams and jellies.

From the time I could eat cake until my sophomore year of college when Grandma got too sick to bake, I’d always have an angel food cake for my birthday. Nothing ever tasted as good as that cake I watched her painstakingly bake and turn upside down on a soda bottle to cool. When it was ready to be frosted, she’d cut off the crusty parts of the bottom and let me have a taste and then she’d frost it with buttercream icing.

I’ll never forget Grandpa Tony’s funeral. I was ten and I didn’t exactly understand what it was like for Grandma to lose the love of her life but I do remember that after coming home from Grandpa’s burial, Grandma cooked a huge turkey dinner and made sure that everyone was served and satisfied.

Grandma died ten years ago and not a day goes by that I don’t think about her. I inherited the yellow tupperware juice glasses that I drank orange juice out of as a child and serving my two children orange juice out of them makes me think of Grandma. I think of her every time I start to complain about how menial housework is because she always did the most menial of tasks cheerfully. From her example, I know that being loved and loving others is more important than how much money you make or what you do for a living.