Not your mother's grilled cheese

Grilled cheese always makes me think of my mom making me lunch. It was my favorite: Velveeta from the big, long box, Wonder Bread from the package with the balloons on it, and sliced tomato, served beside a bowl of Campbell’s Condensed Cream of Tomato Soup. I sound like I’ve just stepped out of a 1960s food advertisement.  

Actually, I still love grilled cheese -- it means I’m home – working, usually, but in my own kitchen, taking a break from the deskwork, able to take a few moments to put together lunch.

This is not my mother’s grilled cheese, but it is good. Really good: fully of gooey smoothness against whole-grain heft with a bright hit of fresh tomato and, sometimes, some other veggie tucked in between the bread.

The transformation from Velveeta to, well, healthier (and tastier) starts with the obvious: whole grain bread. Even though the little girl in me is still in love with the Wonder Bread commercial that told me it “Builds Strong Bodies 12 Ways!” and then showed a child magically shooting up a yard stick, getting older and taller instantly! Sadly, Wonder Bread is processed until all the nutritional value of the wheat has been sucked out of it, then supplemented with vitamins that are harder to digest than the original vitamins, minerals and fiber in the raw product. Go figure.

I also go for real cheddar cheese, instead of Velveeta, which is perhaps the poster child of all processed foods. Labeled “pasteurized processed cheese food,” it was a squishy, orange block of something that felt like a cross between butter and cheese, and it was super creamy with a great melting quality. A step away from Cheez Whiz.

I use sharp cheddar now, and mix it with goat cheese to get that same, melty, Velveeta affect. It also adds a more complex flavor  – as if grilled cheese needs complexity.

I’ve kept the sliced tomatoes just as they were in Mom’s grilled cheese, and they really make the sandwich, cutting  the rich cheese and bread combo with a burst of tangy freshness. Once, when I was out of tomatoes, I used leftover mustard greens I’d sautéed at dinner the night before, and the bite they lent was an unexpected and delicious substitute. Thinly sliced apples can work, too, but make sure they’re crisp – mealy ones are just a disappointing substitute that makes me wish for those tomatoes after all.

If I’m lucky, I’m serving up this re-invented grilled cheese with soup, but not Campbell’s, with its corn syrup and mystery “flavorings.” Instead I like a homemade squash soup, or maybe potato or beet. Something thick and rich. I’m still looking for a favorite.

Hold on loosely

There's nothing like a bike ride to shake off the torpor of an all-indoors day, especially in winter. Just before the light is gone (it fades so quickly this time of year), I bundle up, pump up my tires and take off into Sligo Creek Park, trusting that the dim halo of light carved by my bike light will be enough when dusk turns to dark.

There’s something edgy about riding a bike in the dark: You can’t quite see what’s in front of you, but it just keeps on coming. Shadows disappear with the light, erasing dips and ridges on the bike path. To compensate for lost vision, my other senses crank up the volume. I feel the trail, rather than see it, and ride in ready-set-go mode, my body raised slightly off the bike seat, just enough above it so the bike seems to take on a life of its own, moving under me with the slightest of guidance. I clip along fast, exhilarated by each curve and bump, pavement speeding beneath my tires.

And then a hiccup in the trail sends me flying.

It’s my loose grip on the handlebars that saves me: there’s enough give so the bike jostles underneath me without taking me with it, enough control so the bike is still there for me when I regain my balance. I keep my momentum, stay upright – and land hard back on the seat. Ouch. But also, wow. And wheeeee! It’s like surviving my own personal (and very small) roller coaster. I keep pedaling down the trail, laughing at the surprise.

And I think about hanging loose, being flexible, rolling with the punches. If I’d been more rigid, followed the “hold on tight!” advice I’d probably have given my kids, I’d have jammed my wrists and very likely toppled over, scraping my knees, cranking my 51-year-old bones around, maybe worse.

Lesson learned.

Eventually I turn around to head back home, still congratulating myself on my flexibility, considering how a balance of control and quick response and adaptability is relevant not just on the trail but at work, in the family, at home. Then, wham! I go flying off the seat. Again. Same exact bump in the trail, same flight, same hard landing. Same recovery.

 

Next time I'd like to land more softly. I guess I have something more to learn.

 

Reflections on the new year

We made it through Dec. 21, 2012, and the new year is dawning.

Rumors of a Mayan-predicted collapse were not all bad: they prompted many of us to reflect on where we are headed as human beings on a changing planet. Storms, weather catastrophes, unusually warm temperatures, all point to possibilities we may not entirely understand. A corporate culture stained by the domination of profit over product, or service, or morals for that matter, and the related corruption and greed that can breed, suggest a devolution of who we are as a community and a country.

And so: Are we going to burn up natural resources and continue to clog our collective arteries with excess, bury ourselves in acquisition and materialistic “success,” blinded by the unquenchable desire for more?  Or are we going to open up our consciousness and slow down, recognize that success can be many things, reach out to neighbors literal and figurative, and begin to make the world a better place?

I like to think that the end of the Mayan calendar marks not an abrupt end to the world as we know it, but a slow shift. That “world as we know it,” the one that prompts us to tell our question-authority-and-the-status-quo children, “well, that’s just the way the world is, you have to learn to play the game,” well,  maybe it is time to end that world, and replace it with something that speaks to our better selves.

Hope moves me to believe that is possible.

What if Dec. 21 was about the tide shifting imperceptibly, a sort of tipping point so that yes, we have enough momentum to pull ourselves out of the destructive continuum that has propelled us in recent years, and begin to live our lives with more awareness of the big picture: the universe around us. What if it was about leaving behind the old world, and beginning a new one?

It’s hard for me to name the global signs that this may be beginning: perhaps if I did some research, I would discover them. But I do see them in my little bubble, here in Takoma Park and by extension, parts of the Washington, D.C. area. There is a strong interfaith community here, for example, to counter the devastating wars prompted by religious fervor. There is an embrace of all people, of all ethnicities and sexualities and abilities or lack thereof. There is strong community built around people who care for one another and know their neighbors. There is an ethic around growing (and purchasing) locally grown food, and promoting sustainable ways to grow it. Some of the things we take for granted are, actually, miracles: 20 years ago I would never have believed that the local grocery store chain would offer free range eggs, or that every piece of plastic I use could be recycled at my curb, or that my Community Center would be powered by solar panels and wind energy. It is progress.

It is true: these small steps do not begin to address the heartbreak around the world – the wars, and poverty, violence and disaster. But they may address our lives right here and now, on a scale we can begin to understand. And if we can live good lives at home, perhaps that will impact the rest of the world in some subterranean way. We can be the subconscious of the world. And, if we are strong at home, we can begin to reach out and help others become their best selves as well.

 And so, here’s to hope. It may start small. But I pray that it grows, this year and moving forward.

 Happy New Year.

Second Thanksgiving

This time two weeks ago I was elbow deep in pie dough, experimenting with gluten-free flour and getting ready for I didn’t know how many kids for our annual Second Thanksgiving celebration. After the traditional (and typically more formal) Turkey Day, Second Thanksgiving gives me an opportunity to celebrate my children and their friends with a low-key potluck: I roast a bird and bake a few pies, and our extended family of young friends fills in the blanks. Some bring freshly prepared harvest veggies or a new recipe’s worth of dressing; others bring leftovers, or chips and dip. It’s all good. 

In our kitchen, we baked three pies. The dough, though it tasted gritty before it was baked, miraculously turned out just right – flaky without falling apart. The chocolate pecan pie, my new favorite, looked burned but tasted like an exceptionally gooey, rich, warm candy bar in a pie crust. There’s a lesson in there about expectations and surprises and being open to success in the face of apparent failure, but I’m not sure what it is. Charge ahead?

Well, yes. The best part was how the chaos of preparation all came together: Momma and two kids in the kitchen, one turkey sizzling in the oven, three different pie fillings, two different crusts (one dairy AND gluten-free, one just gluten-free), and countless reasons to be grateful. Our little kitchen is so familiar to us we are able to slide past one another with bowls, knives, hot tea kettles, swinging cabinet doors and drawers, a choreographed dance worthy of all tight but functional spaces. Tyler was on apple pie filling, Clara did pumpkin and pecan, and I rolled out crusts.

By the end, we had a beautifully roasted turkey on the table (not overdone, as I’d feared), plus three gorgeous pies and assorted potluck dishes. Someone played a drum out by the firepit, someone else picked up the guitar in the living room, there was a dart game in the upstairs bedroom and, at one point, freestyle rap beside the table – featuring the word, “pies.”

The taste AND the sound of Thanksgiving. I am grateful.

A walk in the woods

Walking alone in the western Virginia woods recently, I had several things on my mind. As usual, life is full. You know how it is: Family. Work. Personal goals.  

But the best part about this walk in the woods was that I left most of those thoughts behind for a while. My thought process went something like this:

Aren’t you great, for getting outdoors?!? This is so good for your mental health. And, the aerobic exercise is important. (Here I begin counting the number of times I’ve exercised this week, virtually patting myself on the back as I tromp over dried leaves and through branches and brambles).

It’s good to have time alone.

It’s so refreshing to have no music, no computer, no technology at all. We need space like this in our lives to allow feelings to occur, ideas, connections, just to take it all in.

Remember to breathe in this great country air.

Where is the dog?

How close are those deer hunters I hear shooting?

Wow, look at how blue the sky is! Always remember to look up.

These leaves smell so good.

I love the crunch and shuffle of fall.

Shhhhhhh

In short, all those more Serious Thoughts fell away and I was left with silence and joy. And a resolve to walk in the woods more often.

Feeding the masses

Who knew a freshman could be asked to feed a crowd of 80?

It’s not the expected college assignment. Unless you attend the Culinary Institute of America. Which is not the case.

We are talking about VCU Art, where my girl Clara is enrolled in the cinema program. She was part of a film crew over a long weekend. Her job: “craft.” I checked last time I was in the movie theater, and sure enough, this is a category listed in the long, long credits at the end of the film. Wow, there are a lot of folks involved in movie making.

“Craft” means food. And Clara was all over it.

She and one partner – also a college student – planned, cooked and served dinners for a crew of 80. Not just any dinners, either: they had to be cheap, vegetarian, and crock pot-friendly, so they could be kept warm. And they had to be cooked in a small apartment kitchen.

I am so happy Clara texted me for ideas – suggesting that my house is the center of all things cheap and vegetarian (that is a good thing, right?). But credit where credit is due: she came up with ideas of her own that won raves from the cinema pros.

The outcome: the best “craft” ever (well, yes, I am prejudiced). Fact: Happy film crew who came back for seconds – which, because of good planning, were available.

How does a 19-year-old kid pull this off? Well, there was the refusing to sleep factor, of course. But also a lot of planning and chutzpah. I am so proud.

Here are two great standbys for mega-serving meals, easy to multiply by however many you have crowding around your table – or your crockpots. These will stay warm, or are good at room temperature, and you can freeze the extra if you have it. They are healthy, cheap and easy to make – especially the chili. Serve it with cornbread; the ratatouille is great with polenta, which you can either buy in a tube, or make as a super-cheap alternative to pasta.

402 Chili
This is our go-to chili when we’re raiding the pantry for whatever ingredients we have on hand. For my foodie friends, it is Not. Fancy. It’s super simple, plenty satisfying, and when you’re feeding a crowd it makes life easy. This recipe serves about four; if you’ve got 80, you do the math.

1 big onion, chopped
1 green or red pepper, chopped
2 or 3 cloves garlic, minced
1-2 tablespoons chili powder
Olive oil
Two cans black beans
Rather than use canned beans, I like to cook a bunch of dried beans at a time, since they are cheaper than canned beans and that makes me feel virtuous and resourceful. Then I measure out can-sized portions of the cooked beans – I have a washed out bean can for this – and freeze them in Ziploc bags. For those of you who remember Heloise, this is very Hints-from-Heloise of me.
1 to 2 cups of frozen corn (or equivalent canned corn)
1 to 2 cans tomatoes
Whole canned tomatoes seem to retain their flavor better than diced, so I like to use these
and cut them up after I’ve dumped them into the pot. Pre-diced tomatoes are, of course,
more convenient.
Salt and pepper to taste
Shredded cheddar, sour cream or yogurt, fresh cilantro for garnish
These really make the dish, by elevating it beyond just a bowl of beans, corn and
tomatoes. Especially if you can boast that the cilantro is from your garden! Other great
garnishes: onions chopped small, tomatoes chopped small, and hot sauce for those who
like a little more kick.

Heat olive oil in a skillet or in the bottom of a big pot – I love my cast iron Dutch oven for this. Saute onions, peppers, garlic and salt, cook until veggies are soft. Add chili powder and pepper about half way through.
Add beans, corn and tomatoes. Heat through. While it’s heating, place each garnish in its own little bowl and line them up – everyone gets to garnish their own bowl, a fun pick-and-choose event.

Roasted Ratatouille
Serves 4-ish (the veggies will shrink when roasted)

1 medium-sized onion, sliced
2-3 zucchini, sliced into rounds
1-2 medium-sized eggplant, cut into chunks
2 red or green bell peppers, cut into chunks
1 pint cherry tomatoes, stemmed
6 or so whole cloves garlic, skins on
Olive oil
A few sprigs of fresh rosemary and/or basil, chopped roughly
Salt and pepper to taste

Place all but the cherry tomatoes in a bowl with plenty of olive oil to coat. Add herbs, salt and pepper. Toss.
Spread all the veggies into one layer on a jelly roll pan or cookie sheet – use two if you need to. Place in 350-degree oven for 20 minutes. Check for tenderness, add cherry tomatoes, toss together so the veggies don’t stick to the bottom of the pan, and cook another 10 minutes or so. An alternative is to grill the veggies – if you do this, skewer them, and turn them so they cook evenly. It takes about the same amount of time, maybe a little longer.
For the polenta:
Add one cup polenta (which is basically corn grits or corn meal, depending on how smooth you like your polenta – or you can buy the package that says “polenta” on it and follow the directions) to one cup cold water. Meanwhile, boil 3 cups water. Add the polenta/water mixture to the boiling water and get ready to stir constantly for 15 minutes (well, I do walk away sometimes for long enough to set the table, or feed the dog. You do want to keep stirring enough to keep this from sticking to the bottom of the pot, though). The polenta will be thick and gloppy in about 15- 20 minutes. Add about ½ cup shredded parmesan cheese or, really, any cheese you have on hand and think would be tasty. Done.
Serve ratatouille on top of the polenta. Yum.

Road trip

Speeding along the highway
Time slows down so
Everything is possible.

Between looking for the turnoff to I-77 and absorbing the spectacular view along I-40
Between the temptation of gas station Moon Pies (the idea much better than the taste), and balancing how much water I drink with how many pitstops I make  
My ambitions float around the car
Like prayers.

I will bake cookies every week
Organize my favorite music (including this song on the radio)
Mend my blue jeans
Make potholders from fabric scraps
Do Yoga every morning
Take long walks through the woods.

I will
Build a cold frame for a winter garden
Preserve the harvest in neatly sealed Ball jars
Look into starting a bee hive
 
I will write a book of recipes with stories and photographs to accompany each one
I’ll write a memoir about my year on a boat
Or a book about my father

Maybe if I get off at this rest stop with the autumn leaves and picnic tables and water bowls for dogs
I will begin to write, or draw plans for the cold frame, or knit
And there, next to the trucks and cars racing for home

My prayers will be answered.