Fruit is the ideal ending to a meal. The sweetness refreshes the tongue. The colors and natural textures remind us whence nourishment and even life itself come.
Preparing lunch with Tony yesterday I started with bits of ideas what to serve. I knew I had melon in the fridge but opening the fridge door to take it out I saw the container of blackberry. Purple and orange: one of my favorite color combinations. In an unopened container, nonfat Greek yogurt, and honey in a squeeze bottle from the cupboard and we had dessert.
As much as possible I try to prepare things ahead of time. I drizzled the honey on the yogurt and stored the compotes in the refrigerator. By the time I took them out, the honey had disappeared into the yogurt. Next time, do the honey at the last minute!
Greek yogurt is a treat. Even nonfat it is thick and rich, almost like cheese. With honey, it is heaven.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Blackberry Melon Yogurt Compote
William Blake: Auguries of Innocence
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
The Poet of Righteous Fury was right. In Auguries of Innocence he linked nature outside us with nature inside. Both spoke in the same tenor, really of the same life or source of life.
A Robin Redbreast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage...
A Dog starv'd at his Master's Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State...
And for me, most touching:
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fiber from the Brain does tear.
Man was made for Joy and Woe;
And when this we rightly know
Thro' the World we safely go.
To know that life inherently brings joy or sorrow is to try to name what joys we can propagate, what sorrows exterminate. Inside and outside, the same drama of loss and gain, of rejection and attraction, of hatred and love. I walk in the garden then come back in to compose my thoughts. Man is made for joy and woe....
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Cress-Topped Brown Rice with Steamed and Roasted Vegetables
Buddhism in the Philippines, Education Then and Now
Rosemary Roast Chicken Platter
In November my friend, Kevin, suggested I cut out sugar and salt from my diet to spare my pancreas. I was having my friend, Linda, over for her birthday and decided we would have roast chicken. This recipe was the result. I cleaned and washed the whole chicken, rubbed the inside and outside with lemon and lime slices, crushed garlic,and black pepper (in this order), marinated it for two hours at room temperature in a covered pan just large enough to hold the chicken and the juices, and roasted it at 350°F, 20 minutes for every pound. The chicken roasts more evenly when stuck upright in the broiling pan, using metal supports attached to the grill.
Yesterday's roast was the moistest breast of chicken I've had! It goes well with brown rice boiled with dried kelp bundles to tenderize it, and fresh-sliced ripe tomatoes with Dijon mustard and curly parsley were perfect accompaniments.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Paccheri with Cauliflower and Tomato
Paccheri are two-inch-wide regional Italian pasta. The DeCecco package had a simple recipe for cooking it. I modified the recipe by adding oregano and increased the amount of cauliflower. For a vegetarian main dish, this can't be beat and it is simplicity itself to make. The sauce takes just five ingredients, most of these except for the hot chilli pepper, you already have in your cupboard. Canelloni might be easier found and will substitute nicely.
In this platter, I added charcoal-roasted zucchini chunks and lettuce, tomatoes and green onions dry-roasted in a non-stick pan sprayed with extra virgin olive oil.
The Scent of Green Papaya
Much of the movie was filmed in a house that reminded me of houses in my childhood—ground-floor spaces that looked out on tropical shrubs and trees, the ambient sound of rain, of bullfrogs after the rain, of the gecko's nighttime calls, of buzzing flies in the afternoon and early morning bird calls. Long, narrows corridors led to living spaces graced by tall, big, unscreened windows, tall palms in Chinese pots, and, of course, a piano. The movie was set in Saigon in the 1950s and 1960s, roughly the same period I lived in the Philippines. How far do we travel from our origins only to realize at the end, after the indirection and fumbling, we've recreated the past. Not the past as it was but as it has grown to become, an idealized landscape, a statement of our life's themes.
Some Americans are bicoastal; I am bi-continental. I have feet in Asia and in the West. It's not always been an easy stance. I didn't discover my fondness for the cultures of Southeast Asia until after I had immersed myself in American and European culture. Sprung from a middle-class family (yes, that small percentage of mostly city-dwellers in a largely agrarian society), my world as a child nonetheless felt cramped and limiting. I didn't fit. Life on the farm would have felt even more cramped despite the vast skies and vast spaces. My inner life was dissonant with the life I lived, with the life I saw everyone else live. What flickered on the screen of my mind didn't resemble what they spoke about. Their dreams didn't encompass what inchoate dreams I had. I lived in two streams: the outer where I was fake, acting as others expected me to, and the inner for which then I had no words.
The irony is that now, after living perhaps the major and dominant part of my life, that limiting, limited world of the 1950s and 1960s has expanded into a world of smells, images, and sounds that accompanies me as I drive the concrete streets of America like counterpoint to a melody. Except that now the lost, old world feels more vital and more seductive; it lies like an overlay on what I see today. I still travel in two worlds, a little less clumsily perhaps, juggling the two. Straddling has become second nature.
I had my former neighbor, Linda, and her family over for lunch yesterday. I acquired a Brinkmann charcoal grill two years ago and used it only once. After refraining from eating beef for years I suddenly had a yen for a simple hamburger. In the past I would mix all kinds of other ingredients into the beef. I'd added breadcrumbs, beaten egg, pickle relish, chopped onions, minced garlic, bits of sausage, a hard-boiled egg, even capers and artichoke bits. This time I wanted the beef to star. Ground sirloin makes the best hamburger. It has the right amount of fat and fat is essential to a quickly seared, rare beef patty of a hamburger. I only seasoned the ground beef with freshly ground black pepper but while broiling it sprayed olive oil and drizzled worcestershire sauce on the surface. I also broiled thick Vidalia onion slices and chunks of zucchini, both again sprayed lightly with olive oil. Bobby Flay recommended topping the hamburger with onion and ripe tomato slices, a piece of Romaine lettuce and a horse-radish-mustard dressing.
But I'm diverging from yesterday's most redolent imagery. The sun was shining but the air remained cool through the afternoon. I turned off the air-conditioner, opened the windows, and indoors and outdoors flowed together, just like they used to in my childhood. This is also why I love to walk around the neighborhood for hours. In the car, the passing scene feels like a TV show. Walking, I feel connected to the air outside, to trees and human structures, to bird and squirrel sounds, the breeze, the bite of sunshine, the sweetness of being alive. Straddling is not a problem when you can walk.