Sausage Squash and Pasta

venison sausage ring

venison sausage ring

Steve sold his wood chipper today. And the guy he sold it to brought us a ring of venison sausage. That happens where you live, doesn’t it?

I needed a quick dinner, and was going to just thaw some shrimp and pesto and do a quick pasta. But Steve wanted vegetables. So I put in the effort to peel the second half of a squash I had left from the miso-sake squash I made last week. A quick search found a pasta dish to use both.

The sausage was supposed to be cut from its casing, which I did, but it was mighty firm even without the casing. I only used half, as you can see, and gave it some extra chopping. It was stamped “spicy maple venison sausage ring.” Neither the maple nor the spice was too strong, and it worked perfectly with the squash and some sage. It was delicious! (The photo is before it was topped with lots of grated Parmesan.)

farfalle with sausage and squash

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3/4 pound peeled butternut squash, cut into 1/2-inch pieces (2 cups) (I used kabocha)
Salt
1 onion, diced
1 pound hot Italian sausage, casings removed
12 ounces farfalle
1/2 cup freshly ground Pecorino Romano
1 tablespoon chopped flat-leaf parsley (I used dried sage)

  1. n a large, deep skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil. Add the squash, season lightly with salt and cook over high heat, stirring, until tender and lightly browned, about 8 minutes (I actually boiled the squash for 3 minutes first in the pasta water, then browned it in the oil until tender). Using a slotted spoon, transfer the squash to a plate. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil to the skillet. Add the onion and sausage and cook over high heat, breaking up the sausage with a spoon, until lightly browned and cooked through. Return the squash to the skillet.
  2. Meanwhile, in a large pot of boiling salted water, cook the pasta until al dente. Drain the pasta, reserving 1 cup of the cooking water. Add the pasta to the skillet along with the reserved cooking water and the cheese and cook over moderately high heat, stirring, until the sauce is thick and creamy, 1 to 2 minutes. Transfer the pasta to a bowl, sprinkle with the parsley and serve right away.

http://www.foodandwine.com/recipes/farfalle-with-spicy-sausage-and-butternut-squash/

 

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Film Review: Spotlight

spotlight-one-sheetWinter is movie season, and I feel like ours officially started Sunday night (there was seriously nothing interesting at our multiplex over Thanksgiving).

We went to see Spotlight, which I’ve been anticipating since I first heard about it. The film tells the story of the Boston Globe investigation and reporting on clergy sex abuse in Boston. Their reporting resulted in the resignation of Archbishop Bernard Law, the first time the hierarchy has faced any penalty and been shown to have moved priests around and covered up sex abuse.

63489It is the least cinematic story I think I’ve ever seen, and yet it is quite compelling. It is compelling mostly for its set of performances. I love Mark Ruffalo in anything, and he is quite good here, as are Rachel McAdams and Michael Keaton as the reporting staff. John Slatterly does a version of Roger Sterling (his Mad Men role) and Liev Schreiber’s character is really important and well done. Stanley Tucci, Jamey Sheridan, and Billy Crudup give wonderful performances as lawyers on both sides. Mostly, though, it’s people talking to each other– in Boston, which also has a starring role.

There’s a lot of exposition in this film. The reporters get schooled in the sex abuse scandal, and so do we. One of the most interesting ways exposition is the telephone interviews with the character Richard Sipe, author of Sex, Priests, and Power. He is also a former monk and priest at the abbey where I am an Oblate. As someone who studied the issue of priests’ sexual practices intensively for 30 years, Sipe’s findings informed the reporters at The Globe as they proceeded in their investigation. They start out being alarmed that there could be as many as 13 priests guilty of sexually abusing minors in the diocese. Sipe’s findings suggest there could be 90.

spotlightThis is a movie about investigative journalism. The elite “spotlight” team, working on stories in relative secrecy and over a long period of time, are directed to this story by their new editor, Marty Baron (Schreiber), an outsider– not from Boston and Jewish. All of the reporters, insiders in the culture, have their own journeys to take and their own loyalties and assumptions to overcome. It is a movie about a cultural reality that I think would be very hard for most Americans to understand– the power of the Catholic Church in a city like Boston even as recently as 2001. Even, though it has been brought very low, today. Mostly it is a movie about digging deeper and deeper– among resources that are also completely on the surface, mostly accessible for thirty years and untouched. Even the Globe, it turns out, has turned away from this story for decades.

The film does an incredibly good job, too, with the victim statements and interviews. It maintains a level of dispassion about the interviews that is reflective of the journalism. It tells us enough, shows us the deep pain and disruption for the victims, without exploiting them or becoming maudlin. Some might think the film doesn’t go far enough in this area, in telling the story of what happened to the victims. I think it’s pretty brilliant– it’s exactly the way the story exists in the real world. Everyone actually knows what is going on. We all know, in 2015, what went on. And the story they want to tell, the goal they want to accomplish, is to topple the hierarchy and expose not the actions of the priests as much as the corruption and crimes of Archbishop Bernard Law who moved those priests around and thus allowed their criminal activity to continue.

In the end, what the movie gets so right, is an expression of our complete complicity as a society, and of our loss. When reporter Michael Rezendes (Ruffalo) expresses his sense of loss– he was not a practicing Catholic but always thought the Catholic Church would always be there to go back to, that there would be a chance for renewed faith that now seems lost– we see the stakes and perhaps why so many averted their eyes to what was happening.

And we experience this complicity not just in clergy sexual abuse, but in the sexual abuse of children that goes on in homes and in institutions throughout the United States. I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, and I have spent decades considering the psychology of the silence surrounding it. I kept the secret about what happened to me to protect my family. To protect myself. So that I could grow up they way I was meant to grow up.

And my fingers hover over the keyboard when it comes to typing the name of Richard Sipe. He is not seen as a hero in these parts. His name is not spoken with pride for the good work he’s done for victims. The whole picture of the sex abuse crisis is muddied and muddled with pain. Because of the decades of silence, I fear we might not be able to ever get it right.

This film is brilliantly written and acted. It does a good deal to show the depth of the pain, the hubris of the powerful, the banality of the evil that was the cover-up. In the end, Bernard Law is forced to resign– only to be whisked off to a powerful position in the Vatican. But the last scene– who calls The Globe and more importantly, who does not– tells you all you need to know.

 

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Christmas, meh

I made my first batch of Christmas cookie dough this morning. Here it is, December 12, and I’m just getting started! The truth is, we’re going low key on Christmas this year.

It might be the weather– the El Nino is holding strong. We went out to pick up a trailer from my sister-in-law who lives on the Mississippi on Thursday, and it looked like this.

Little Falls MississippiThat’s green grass and a spring scene more than a December one. Not that I’m complaining! We also saw a lot of eagles on the drive, which was a bonus.

It could also be the trailer. A couple days after Thanksgiving, when almost all of his daughters had flown back to NYC, Steve went down to Sleepy Eye to help his Aunt Frances (age 87) move up to St. Joseph. Each of the three elderly adults we’ve relocated this year has been different. With Aunt Frances, the main challenge is her stuff. She has a lot of it. She was unable to pare down before it was time to move, so Steve spent five days with her getting packed and then on the move itself, when we unloaded enough to fill her new cottage and her garage right up to her car. She has many sweaters. She has many, many pairs of shoes. Luckily, she has a walk-in closet in the new place. Even so, the sweaters are mostly still in a giant box. And on this next (last?) trip down, she said to make sure to bring back her summer clothes.

This weekend there is a team there, and the goal is to get most of the stuff to local thrift stores by the giant trailer load. One positive thing (there are actually many positive things– Frances has kept her spirits up the entire time and proven to be much more adaptable than one might expect) is that she wants to sell the house quickly. A realtor has already been showing it. So she’s all for getting it cleared out now, and she doesn’t want to pay for a storage space, so that limits how much stuff she can actually have with her.

What with all the consolidating and moving and decluttering, putting up the tree and getting out the decorations has not been high on the list. In fact, I’ve spent more time culling my own clothes and amassing large bags of stuff for Goodwill on our end. It’s been motivating. Also, I’m not one to decorate by myself, even with eggnog.

IMG_0009Still. If I didn’t at least put up the garland and lights in the kitchen, I wouldn’t get the tops of my cabinets cleaned for the year. (See how appealing this decorating task is?)

So this morning, Christmas tunes playing (may I recommend Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings? Our son-in-law is the drummer, so I’m partial, but it is a great holiday CD– and you can get it in green vinyl!), I got out the step stool and the last working string of lights and did a bit of decorating.

I hung the Christmas paintings, including this fine one by Steve.

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I made the batter for the gingerbread trees.

And this afternoon, I’m off to a friend’s (heated) greenhouse to plant the first of their winter greens!! Who says you can’t have it both ways?

 

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Gun Store

Dozen Chicken EggsYesterday, among my errands, I stopped at Mills Fleet Farm for more chicken feed. I love Mills Fleet Farm and I’m there pretty regularly. It’s close to my house, on the rural edge of Waite Park/St. Cloud. It is my source for chicken treats (I paused by the bags of meal worms, but decided to just get feed this time).

It’s also my source for canning jars, garden supplies, hoses, and many other things. Going there makes me feel like a farmer. Sometimes I just wander the aisles and think about making fences and feeding sheep. One day last spring I passed my friend Scott as he was buying a new waterer for his goats and I was getting a little trough for my chickens.

But I don’t think I’m going to shop there anymore. Yesterday, I felt very uneasy. I felt like a hypocrite. Why do I shop at a store that sells automatic weapons?

logoI have nothing against hunting rifles or hunting or fishing. We actually own two hunting rifles and a .22 handgun Steve uses to kill rabbits and gophers that threaten the tree nursery.

But I believe there should be a ban on automatic weapons and assault rifles and any other weapons whose sole purpose is to kill humans– or pursue recreation opportunities that simulate killing humans.

I’m going to go to the gun counter next trip and see what they actually stock and talk to the “sporting goods” manager. I don’t want to falsely accuse my local store. However, on the company website I see they support open carry and concealed carry and actually lead workshops in their stores in Minnesota, Wisconsin and the Dakotas on concealed carry, including a recent half-day workshop in St. Cloud.

 

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This is one of the semi-automatic “tactical” rifles you can buy through their online site. (A Huldra Mark IV 5.56×45 tactical elite rifle said to “run cooler, cleaner and longer than any other AR”)

I don’t know quite how to take action to express my opposition to the sales of weapons like those used in mass killings in the United States. I’ve signed petitions, and I vote my conscience in this area (not difficult since all the Democratic candidates I support also approve of this position). But it doesn’t feel like enough.

I pray, for the victims and for the country– but I believe prayer is the beginning of action. I pray for the courage and wisdom to do something.

This past summer I pulled into the parking lot of my local grocery store and there in front of me was a young white man with the butt of a large handgun sticking out of the back of his pants. I was shocked. I was scared. He gave me a leering smile. Cocky. Unstable? I’m not sure I would have gotten out of my car if he was going inside the store instead of away from it.

I am like most others in that I have so far avoided thinking about this issue too much. It has not affected me directly– no one I know has been a victim of a mass shooting. But I am in fact terrorized. I want to make choices that reflect the world I want to live in. That might start with driving in a different direction or a little farther to buy my chicken feed.

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Sorting

manuscript layoutWhat I have been doing this Thanksgiving weekend is zeroing in on the task of organizing a poetry manuscript. My book of poems, H is for Harry, will be published by North Star Press in March 2016. I’m very excited.

Ordering a poetry manuscript, unless you’ve written it as one consistent project over a short period of time, is tricky. My last book of poems like this (not the 100-word story collection, Habits) came out in 2003. That means potentially there are 12 years worth of poems to be managed. Plus, I don’t want to put them chronologically, or even thematically. I want them to interweave, without sections, into a solid manuscript.

A friend who read the manuscript for me gave me a challenge: Don’t start with the title poem. It’s a “childhood” poem, and leads easily to some other childhood poems about learning to read and reading books. Childhood, tweenhood, teenhood, adulthood… Yeah. She pulled a poem about 20 pages in and said: What happens when you start with this one? It’s a brilliant suggestion, actually, a poem about “the work of the poet,” but it takes place right in the middle of my life, at 26 years old, living in Brooklyn. What starting place is that?

I laid all the poems out on the floor in basically four groupings or stories. There is the story of my divorce and remarriage. There is the story of my encounter and ongoing work to bring written language and living things together– to make a world of language come alive. (In a way, maybe that is what all poems are doing, but these are sort of “meta,” drawing attention in one way or another to that task.) There are poems about monks and other religious people and ideas. And there is the story of the flora and fauna of this place: sandhill cranes, hummingbirds, yaks, gardens, fieldstone, etc.

running boyNone of these stories seem separate from each other to me. But they were tricky to weave together. I’ve also wanted to take out four or five poems, to make it a little leaner. But the only poems I think I could take out, that rub up less comfortably against the others, are ones that have been published in literary magazines! Publishing in literary magazines is so random and such a long process, that in many ways these poems don’t “fit.” There are a lot of other poems in that category that I’ve written these dozen years or so, but I can discard them easily. Having “acknowledgements,” demonstrating that some of these were previously published, is kind of important. So they, at least as of now, get to stay.

The divorce and remarriage is the most chronological set of poems, the most narrative. It becomes a backbone running through the collection. In some ways I think these are the most powerful poems, too. He is going to leave; he leaves; I date; I remarry; I am a second wife with a new husband.

Around these poems, but neither competing with them nor giving them too much importance to the overall manuscript, are my ongoing themes and discussions. What is art and inspiration? How does the world speak and what do we say back? What can we make of words? How praise the world? How lament? How reach into a moment of time and pull out a crystallized moment or image that expresses what it means to be human? What beauty there is in the world and in imagination. How lucky to be alive and out in it and with words to tell the tales. Hopefully the themes unfold as the manuscript links one to another.

I’m going to turn it over to the editorial team, if not today then certainly by Monday. Then it will just be a matter of getting it to look good on the page. I can’t wait to have it to offer to you! Thank you for the part you’ve played, encouraging and reading along, in this particular journey.

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Chicken Apartments

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A few people have asked how the chicken transition is going, so I thought I’d give you all a brief update.

You’ll remember from the last post that the introduction of my chickens to the winter quarters in the pig barn did not go very well. There was some pecking, and within five minutes, all of my brother-in-law’s chickens were out in the cold, roosting in a pine tree. Steve got on the case immediately, finding a way to spit the current pen, which used to be a large bay in the pig barn back when this was a monastery pig farm owned by the monastery.

But by evening, actually, the chickens had settled down. My five girls are definitely early to bed, a habit formed by their summer lodgings, which are small and encourage chickens to get inside and on the perch at the first sign of dusk. The barn is even darker, so by 4:30 p.m. Thursday they were up on the perch. When I visited the barn Friday, everybody was settled in. Steve had built a little platform over one of the troughs and put in a door to access the pen. The bay next to the chickens is where he stores lumber for furniture-making, so the entrance is down a cozy tunnel of wood.

But the urgency drained from the project as the chickens calmed down.

Also, with the winds done, despite a high of 27 degrees, Steve and Jeff got back on the more urgent project, the greenhouse, which just needed a few more panels (and still needs the cap on top and the drapes on the bottom). The gale winds of the blizzard made him worry the whole thing could be picked up by wind and sent aloft over the prairie.

And now the holiday season has begun, with almost daily airport pick-ups and busyness. However, my brother-in-law would still feel better with the space partitioned, so he’s going to put in the middle wall today and finish off the space. There’s ample room for all the chickens, and no doubt they’ll be happier in their own condo!

IMG_1258The front door to the pen is right by the main entrance to the barn.

IMG_1260The red chickens, their door, their window (by which they access an outdoor pen), and the prized roosting boxes.

IMG_1261My chickens with their window and the prized corner perch. They’ll be back to the cat roosting box.

 

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Winter Home

blizzardThe chickens have had a rough week. It rained pretty much solidly for three days, and then last night gale force winds came blowing in. It was the kind of night when it is good to stay in and have some Japanese vegetable soup!

soupI mixed a couple of recipes, and improvised, for this delicious soup. Made dashi (broth) with the kelp and bonito flakes. Roasted chicken and carrots and leeks, the first step for ramen. Cut up a bunch of other ingredients: mushrooms, Japanese yam, more carrots, green onions, and threw them in a pot with the dashi, soy sauce, more ginger, miso (why not), and sake (why not indeed!) I added the shredded chicken breast and roasted vegetables and in the last few minutes, some chopped kale. So good. Steve drank the broth from the bowl when the veggies and chicken were gone, always the BEST test of a soup.

 

eggplant dishAnd I made a side dish I’ve been thinking about for a few days, as I’ve stared down the eggplant I bought at the market on Sunday. Eggplant massaged with salt, left to sit 15 minutes, then rinsed and the water squeezed out. It doesn’t sound like something you do to eggplant. But it worked! The eggplant slices basically turned into mushrooms! Then it’s served with slivers of ginger and shiso, which I didn’t have, but I did have parsley. It would be great on crackers, but was also good as a side dish.

 

Oh, yeah, the chickens. I really wanted to move them yesterday, looking at the forecast. But that didn’t work (I chased them for ten minutes, the door blew open and two got out, and that was the end of it.)

frozen chicken waterToday, though, it was easy as pie. There was a blizzard going outside and snow blowing sideways. Their water was completely frozen solid, as was their food. In fact, the coop door was frozen shut until I broke the ice. They took a peek outside, then cuddled up– or huddled up– on their perch. All we had to do was open the front door and grab them (Steve did that– he is not as gentle with the chickens as I am, or as freaked out by their squawking) and throw them in the cage. We drove them to the barn, where he grabbed them from the cage and tossed them in the chicken area.

Where they started pecking the other chickens immediately. Two of the other chickens were outside sitting in a big pine tree, and in a matter of minutes, outnumbered and outsized, the other two went out to the tree. My chickens had full ownership of the large coop.

Steve’s going to get wood and fencing now. We’ll be either dividing the current coop in two, or cordoning off another area of the old pig barn for my chickens to use. Next year I’d like to get three more chickens, bringing the number to eight. I’m thinking if they start in the barn with the five, they might do OK. I’ll get the same breed to encourage cohabitation. We’ll see how it goes.

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Japanese Cooking 101

ingredientsI remember now why my forays into Japanese food haven’t gotten very far. It is actually hard to find really good ingredients.

Even with my guide, I’m having trouble. My first big shopping trip was to United Noodles in Minneapolis this past weekend. Asian markets– and we have a fantastic one in St. Cloud where I’ll be going next (I just happened to be in the Twin Cities)– can be confusing. It is a bit like walking into an Auto Supply parts store.

United Noodles is a gigantic warehouse. It is organized both by cuisine and by ingredients. I didn’t know that when I walked in, but right away I was in an aisle that had seaweed. It had some nori but no konbu. Because it was the Korean seaweed section. The Korean section was great. I picked up a bag of soybeans there.

soybeansThe ingredients in the bag of soybeans was: soybeans. I have regularly bought dals, lentils, and dry beans in shops like this. But since I want to make soymilk, should I worry about the quality, the organic nature, of the soybeans? (Remember the rice with the bugs? Better bugs than chemicals!) At the same time, I don’t want to be all health food store about this project. In the past two days I have spent some time in the “comment-sphere” of online marketplaces and learned not much, except that I’m going to go ahead and just use the soybeans I bought. (Next time, if there is one, I’ll buy Laura soybeans. I mean, Laura soybeans? What I lose in Japanese authenticity I’ll gain in them being almost local, grown in Iowa.)

For more on the GMO issue with soybeans, here is an excellent blog entry. The beans I bought do meet her recommendations for size, shape, color, etc. I love this blog, by the way, Viet World Kitchen. I returned to it for questions on what coagulant to buy for homemade tofu.

Finally, on my shopping trip, I found the Japanese section. And there was no suitable mirin. I was looking for “hon mirin.” I was avoiding “aji mirin.” Aji means flavored, and it tends to have MSG in it. Or other flavorings that make it ready for dashi.

The good news is that I did find the bag of “kelps” I need for dashi. Konbu. That was very important. And by the time I got to the Japanese section, I was reading packages well.

misoI didn’t have my cookbook with me, or any notes really, so I was just seeing what I could do on my own. The konbu was my chief aim, and also good miso. Again with the miso, there were a lot of choices, a lot of price points, and not a lot to suggest which way to go. I read ingredients. I settled on a beautiful pale package (ingredients: water, soybeans, rice, salt) and as soon as I cut it open at home I knew I’d made the absolute right choice. Boy does it smell good.

The comment-sphere surfaced that it is actually difficult to get good, “pure” mirin in the US. I’m ordering a possible solution online. Also, I went with a ponzu marinade instead of yuzu because I couldn’t bear the price. It’s a citrus, and I’ll also used some orange/lemon/lime substitutions, depending on the recipe.

The big ingredient I couldn’t get was a large chunk of katsuobushi. That’s smoked slipjack tuna (bonito). There are a lot of smoked salmon options. And there are a lot of options for bonito flakes, which is what I’ve ordered. Working through the comments on that one was tough, though, because the number one use for bonito flakes, it seems, is as a cat treat. Yes. People spend $10 or more for tiny packages of “kitty crack” tuna flakes. When I had a cat, it used to slobber itself silly over a small bowl of drained tuna water, a by-product of buying a can of tuna. So why do you need to buy the cat specialty tuna flakes?? Eventually I found a brand where some people were commenting on its use in Japanese cooking.

But I really wanted a big piece of the stuff I could grate myself. Really.

November greensIf anyone out there has recommendations, let me know. I’ve looked in NYC, San Francisco, and Los Angeles online stores for both mirin and good bonito flakes. I’m also taking miso recommendations.

Last night I was rushed, so used an Indian red pepper simmer sauce I had frozen to cook the chicken and rice dish we were having. But for the salad, I couldn’t resist a miso dressing. Miso, rice vinegar, sunflower oil, and a little water to thin it. Wowza.

 

 

 

 

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Cuisine of the Season

In winter, when I’m not just harvesting and sauteeing the seasonal vegetables, I like to play around with a cuisine. One year it was Indian food, after a January trip to Los Angeles. Another year it was Middle Eastern cuisine with Yotam Ottolenghi’s books leading the charge. And, of course, after I received the Frankies Spuntino cookbook one Christmas, there was a frenzy of pasta and sauce making, pork braciole, and even a few of the most decadent chocolate tortes in the world.

This year, as soon as the weather got cool, I started craving soy sauce. Quite specifically, I was craving chicken drumsticks with a soy glaze. Joined by some kale dressed with the extra sauce.

chicken kale

So, as they do on Iron Chef, I’m declaring this the year of Battle Japan! I might even try making my own tofu.

jff coverMy guide will be Nancy Singleton Hachisu and her book Japanese Farm FoodI love the book and have already been making my way through it, reading the story of Nancy’s life married to a Japanese man and living on the farm with their two sons. She has been connected to Japanese and Western food for decades, traveling for long periods to France and Italy and also Northern California, where she has developed a friendship with Alice Watters of Chez Panisse.

 

 

For a guidebook, you really want something that starts here. rice recipe fragAs you can see even from this excerpt, she begins by telling you how to wash out the bugs. My rice all has bugs right now, because it is real rice, and that’s what happens. “Better bugs than chemicals,” she writes. I look forward to spending time washing my rice this winter, and really slowing down to make tasty food.

Making tofu is a lot like making cheese. You start with soybeans and make the milk, then develop the curds, then press it out. And it means I get to buy stuff, like forms and cultures.

In addition to an excellent “resources” section in the book that tells you how to get what you need to make the recipes in the US, there is a link to Kitazawa Seed Company, a company that sells seeds for plants used in Japanese cooking. This is definitely a draw for me. Japanese greens, like mizuna, have been steadily been making their way intoimages American gardens and kitchens. I’ve been growing daikon for a few years as well, and want to grow more eggplant and know what to do with it. I like the idea of adding adzuki beans to my garden, and having a wider set of recipes for the greens, turnips, and other things I grow.

What ultimately got me away from the Middle Eastern cooking was that Minnesota is nothing like Israel in terms of climate and plant life! It was not an easy winter project. I don’t want to spend money on olives, lemons, and fresh mint! There are plenty of specialty items in Japanese cooking, but I already make stir fries and keep a full stock of Asian condiments: mirin, rice vinegar, hoisin, wasabe powder, soy sauce, fish sauce, sesame oil, etc. My miso paste sits lonely at the back of the fridge, though, and I want to bring it to the forefront!

ramen displayLast Christmas we had Catherine and Homer’s friend Yasu with us for Christmas, which resulted in a grand sushi dinner and a grand ramen night. Before arriving, Yasu stopped in an Asian store in Minneapolis and bought some ingredients, and he had his mother ship him his Christmas presents, which included a Japanese omelette pan. I’m a sucker for tools! And Nancy Singleton Hachisu has a full explanation for making a rolled omelette, too.

So I’m looking forward to this winter, and will post some of my adventures. I’ve done my prep by learning to pickle and ferment and make cheese. I do make a killer stir fry. It seems less daunting, somehow. I’m ready to jump into the world of dashi.


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Epic (Fail) Crane Adventure

sherburne trees grasses nov 15I know better. I really do. I have been led astray on many an epic nature adventure.

There was the “whale watching spot” in Northern California at the height of the season where we saw exactly zero whales.

Then there was that time in 1995 I drove with friends to a bog to see 100,000 bats fly out of a barn at dusk. Turns out, we were mosquito bait. After a very hot, stuffy lecture (“bats weigh 1/4 ounce so you can mail three on a first class postage stamp”) we sat on lawn chairs being swarmed by mosquitoes and yes, I do believe there were also bats flying around.

So yesterday, when I saw some amazing nature porn on Facebook, photos of sandhill cranes that were just so stunning you would do almost anything to see such a sight, and an article in the local paper saying that 1,500-4,000 sandhill cranes rise out of the wetlands in the Sherburne National Wildlife Refuge every morning at dawn, I couldn’t help myself.

(Looking more closely at the photos now, which include super close ups and large groups of birds, I see the photographer is a complete professional, Jeff Moravec, and he was there not in the morning but as the cranes gathered in late afternoon, and not in the wetlands but in what looks like nearby farm fields where they glean during the day.)

I left the house this morning at 4:45 a.m. The last time I left the house that early was– never. Not to catch a plane, pick someone up from a flight, take someone to the hospital, see an eclipse, never. I was well aware of the factors against this trip. 1) I didn’t know where I was going exactly; 2) it was dark; 3) these birds like to hide.

I did manage to get to the Sherburne National Wildlife Refuge and find a map at the headquarters and then find a service road on 175th Avenue. I would not describe it, as they did in the article, as “the lot off 175th Avenue” Nor would I describe the service road as “a gravel road.”  It was more dirt and sand. But it was completely dark, so I figured it might be gravel. And it was the only thing close to a lot I could find on the refuge side of the road. The big thing that worried me was the lack of other cars. The complete lack of other vehicles, ranger or otherwise.

There were no signs, either. Not at headquarters, or anywhere. Nothing about cranes. It was a nice walk– temps in the 50s and the light just coming up. It was completely silent. (No chortling of sandhill cranes.) I went about three miles, and did think when I got to this spot where there was a great tree and a gate, that these were the kind of wetlands that sand hill cranes love. But I kept going because, well, I didn’t see or hear any sand hill cranes. And I was looking for the 800-acre St. Francis Pool. (Here is a picture of the gate and tree, in case you go there to see the cranes and want to stop before you’re way past them.)

Sherburne Refuge gate pathI was about a mile past the spot– but very near a large expanse of water–  when I heard some chortling. I saw several groups of three, family groups I imagine, and then, about a mile behind me, I saw a few strings of sandhill cranes flying up and out, maybe 40 in all.

Sherburne Refuge cranes 11-4-15Nice photo, huh?

I did not see or hear 11,500. Nope. Not 1,500 either. Not even 100. And– let me be clear– the groups I did see were quite far away. Too far to photograph with my telephoto lens.

Sherburne Refuge 11-4-15 sunrise

I did get photos of leaves, some cool hollow logs, and the not very impressive sunrise.

sherburne hollow tree stumps

I heard an owl.

I saw a deer running really fast in the dark.

Starting out, I actually thought: “I wonder if this will be better than my experience this summer being close to wild horses. I mean, people make 10,000 cranes out of paper. It’s a lot of cranes. This will be maybe 11,500 cranes! It will be so cool!”

Wild horses win. (To be fair, being right up next to wild horses probably always win.)

After I got back to “the parking lot,” this very good thing happened. I got in my car and for some reason glanced back at the “gravel road.” And there was my wallet lying on the ground. It was wet and gravelly, as if it had been there since before dawn.

I did not lose my wallet. I am so glad about that I can’t tell you. It made my day, really.

fallen oak leaves Sherburne

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