I have a friend who just completed the Hajj.  This is the pilgrimage to Mecca, in Saudi Arabia, that all Muslims must try to make at least once, to fulfill the fifth pillar of Islam.  She had a small group to her house on Friday evening where she served us possibly the most delicious Tunisian food I have eaten and told us the story of her trip.  My mental image, previously, was simplistic, picturing Muslims, in their white clothing, merely walking a few times around the Ka’aba, the black marble shrine reputedly built by Abraham.

In reality, the Hajj is a sequence of activities that takes about a week to complete, and some may stay there as long as a month.  This link gives a concise explanation of the daily activities with a few good photos.  What struck me was the storyline these actions are linked to.  Coming from a Judeo-Christian worldview, I’m still taken by surprise every time I am reminded that the story I know to be of Abraham being willing to sacrifice his son Isaac, the only son of Sarah, is not the narrative understood in the Muslim world.  In their view, the footnote of my story, Sarah’s maid Hagar (also Hajar) and her son Ishmael, who Abraham banished to the desert to quell Sarah’s jealously over being barren, becomes the real story.  The primary symbolism of the Hajj is about Abraham resisting Satan’s temptation to not obediently sacrifice his oldest son, Ishmael.  It is also about Hagar’s survival in the desert, how she searched desperately for water before discovering a spring that saved them.

My friend completely believes these stories of her faith, and so she was able to submit herself, with abandon,  to the spiritual lessons and personal transformation that were possible.  She returned radiant, open-hearted, and dare I say, pure.  It was remarkable to be with her as she recounted her experience.  The change in her is indisputable.

I thought the next day about the similarity of the Hajj to other pilgrimages such as The Stations of the Cross or even the Hindu pilgrimage we used to observe in Singapore called Thaipusam, involving piercing the body with many sharp skewers and then performing a walk in a pain-trance to atone for sin or show gratitude for good favor from the gods.  None of these displays, however, would be more than self-inflicted agony without an underlying story to give it significance.  It seems we often need a small storyline in our daily lives to help us get through challenging circumstances.  When life gets a bit too dire to fully confront, placing some faith in a convenient myth can help to take a little of  the edge off.  I recalled some of the “God’s will” language from my cultural background.  It does help at times to allow yourself to believe a situation is out of your control and that there is a wise, loving entity that will make it come out alright.  And in fact that may be entirely true.  It’s just that we don’t know, exactly, and so there must be some of our own imagination involved, which is what creates mythology.

I am facing my own difficult reality these next weeks.  I am leaving Tunis for Seattle tomorrow to have a hysterectomy.  If you are one of the dozens of women who have said to me, “It’s a piece of cake;  you’ll be a new person, ”  thank you.  Those affirmations really have given me resolve and courage.  I believe, without a doubt, that this is what I must do right now.  It’s just that the ugly reality of the actual surgery remains.  I try not to fool myself about realities in life, anymore.  I am trying to open my eyes and look at the truth as much as I can, as I’ve found that sheltering myself in my naive state can bring me more pain in the long run when my blinders must be removed.  I am fortunate enough to have this procedure at a time in medical development when invasive surgery isn’t necessary, and I can choose to have tiny robotic hands carry out the precise work.  Allan and I both tried to look at a YouTube video of a daVinci hysterectomy this week (notice:  no link, though I just gave you the search string if you think you can watch).  He was able to watch it through to the end because he wanted to really know what was going to happen.  I watched for about a minute, and when I felt myself becoming nauseous, I turned it off.  I found that I, too, needed some mythology to move me through this, because the truth was more than I could confront.  My preferred narrative is that I will take a warm, comfortable nap, and while I am sleeping, skilled doctors will release tiny fairies into my body.  These careful and sympathetic fairies will dislodge my ailing uterus, probably with a gentle rocking motion,  and will deliver it back to the point of insertion where the doctors can take it away.  I’m even surprised about the fairy thing.  I’m not generally into the fantasy world; I find it rather boring, but this image is working for me and fairies it will be.  If you are the praying/thinking type and would like to send your well wishes to my uterus fairies, it looks like I will be the first surgery of the day on Monday, November 25th, Seattle time.

The best preparation for me today, for this sojourn that begins tomorrow, is visiting the stations of my kitchen.  That is my meditation and where I become grounded.  This is what I’m making for a comfort-food dinner with my husband tonight.  I hope we have some left over to keep him feeling loved, in my absence.

Coq Au Vin

Serves 6

• 2  750-ml bottles dry, full-bodied red wine
• 2  3 1/2-lb chickens, cut into 4 breasts, 4 thighs, and 4 legs
• 4 celery stalks, peeled and cut into 2″ batons
• 2 heads garlic, sliced in half
• 2 lbs. button mushrooms, cleaned and trimmed
• 1 lb. pearl onions, peeled
• 1/2 lb. slab bacon, cut into 1/4″ batons
• 1 sachet of 8 sprigs thyme, 1 fresh bay leaf, 2 tsp. coriander seed, ans 1 tsp. cracked pepper, tied in cheesecloth with twine.
• 4 T flour
• 4 cups unsalted chicken stock
• 1/2 bunch fresh parsley, leaves picked
• Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

In a large saucepan, reduce the wine by half, then set aside to cool.  Place the chicken in a large container with the celery, garlic, mushrooms, onions, bacon, and sachet.  Cover all ingredients with reduced wine and marinate in the refrigerator overnight.

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.  Drain the marinated ingredients; reserve the wine.  Pat the ingredients dry, and season the chicken with salt and pepper.  Place a large Dutch oven over medium heat and add the bacon.  Cook, stirring until crisp, and then remove with a slotted spoon and reserve.  Sear the chicken on all sides in the bacon fat (you may need to do this in batches).  Remove the chicken ;  add the vegetables and sachet, and cook, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes.  Add the flour and cook, stirring, for another 4 minutes.

Add the wine, crisped bacon, chicken, and chicken stock.  Bring to a simmer, cover with a round of parchment, and transfer to the oven.  Cook, stirring and basting the chicken at least three times, until the chicken is tender at the bone, 1 to 1 1/2 hours.

If the sauce seems too thin, remove the chicken and vegetables, return the sauce to the heat, and reduce until it reaches the desired consistency (it should coat the back of a spoon).  Incorporate all the ingredients back together, season to taste, and serve, garnished with the parsley.

Spaetzle

• 3/4 cup whole milk
• 3 eggs plus 1 yolk
• 1/2 cup creme fraiche (or sour cream)
• 2 1/4 cups flour
• 1/2 tsp. salt, plus more to taste
• 1/8 tsp. ground pepper, plus more to taste
• 1/8 tsp. ground nutmeg
• 2 tsp. olive oil
• 2 T butter
• 3 T chopped parsley

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.  In a small bowl, whisk the milk, eggs, yolk, and creme fraiche until smooth.  In a large bowl, whisk to combine the flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/8 tsp.  pepper, and nutmeg, and make a well in the center.  Pour the egg mixture into the well, and, using a spoon, stir from the middle outward, slowly pulling the dry ingredients into the wet.  Once fully incorporated, stir for a few seconds more until the batter looks sticky.  The batter should be fairly wet, but with a consistency thick enough to sit on top of a spaetzle maker, food mill, or colander.  Press the batter through the spaetzle maker or colander into the boiling water.  Once all the spaetzle rise to the surface, strain them, rinse in cold water, and toss in the olive oil to prevent sticking.

Brown half of the butter in a large nonstick saute pan.  Add half of the spaetzle, toss until lightly browned, and then toss in half of the parsley.  Transfer the browned spaetzle to a bowl, and repeat the process with the remaining ingredients.  If needed, season to taste with more salt and pepper.

Recipe by Daniel Boulud, printed in Elle Decor, November 2013

I just got back in the house from a quick six-night trip home to Bellingham.  We have a week-long mid-term break this year, and I decided last summer to just book the ticket and come home for a little check-in.  When most of my friends were going on local trips to London, or Switzerland, or Sicily, it felt a little ambitious to be heading off on that long-haul flight to the Northwest, but was it worth it?  Of course, every second of it.

All members of our family put some commitments in place last summer toward accomplishing things we want to achieve in our near futures.  These goals run a vast gamut, and I wanted to see for myself how it was all going.  First of all, the Lummi house was spectacular.  We did so much work last summer to bring it back up to the level of a cared-for home.  Gabe is living there this year and he has really invested himself in making it his home.  All of the structure was still in place and I could crash-land there for six nights and just enjoy it.  That was a wonderful experience.

Gabe is thick into caring for an adorable baby.  His new weimaraner pup structures his entire life, which is helping him have nicely productive days, and is also showing him that he would do well in some other professional and personal pursuits he wants in his life.

Anton has been working hard at his musicianship as well as some other things.  He is getting recognition for the practice and leadership he has been investing in the music department.  This also affirms him about his capacity to move toward his next goals in life.

 I had a few hours to myself when I got back to Tunis today, and  I was reflecting on how life is a constant process of paying attention to the routines and motivations in your life,  and then making small adjustments when you notice something is taking too big of a priority.  NPR Weekend Edition Sunday was doing stories with a focus on addictions:  alcohol, internet, food etc.  There was a lot in the stories for me and a lot, I think, for everyone who wants to avoid unproductive traps in life.

So the week didn’t just fly by without something to show for it, Gabe and I selected an anchor cooking project.  He bought Brussels sprouts at the farmer’s market the day before I arrived, and then I did a little prep each day toward making up a few jars of this kimchi.  I tell you our kitchen smelled just like a Korean restaurant the day I left, which is a cozy place, in my mind.  Notice the tiny air bubbles around the jar rims in the picture.  That is natural fermentation taking place.   These should be incredibly delicious when I get back to Bellingham in early December to take care of a surgery I am finally willing to undergo.  That is my commitment from the summer:  to get past an unhealthy situation with my body.

Brussels Sprouts Kimchi

Bon Appetit, October 2013

• 3.5 oz. plus .7 kosher salt*
• 1 1/2 lb. small Brussels sprouts, trimmed, halved
• 1/2 small onion, coursely chopped
• 2 scallions, sliced
• 4 garlic cloves
• 1/4 cup gochugaru (course Korean red pepper powder, found at Asian markets or from Amazon)
• 2 Tbsp. fish sauce (such as nam pla or nuoc nam)
• 2 Tbsp. Sriracha
• 1 Tbsp.  grated peeled ginger
• 1 Tbsp. soy sauce
• 2 tsp. coriander seeds, crushed
• 2 tsp. fennel seeds, crushed

Makes 2 quarts

Combine 3.5 oz. salt and 2 quarts warm water in a large bowl, whisking to dissolve salt.  Add Brussels sprouts and top with a plate to keep Brussels sprouts submerged.  Let sit at room temperature 4 hours;  drain.  Rinse, drain, and place in a large bowl.

Pulse onion, scallions, garlic, gochugaru, fish sauce, Sriracha, ginger, soy sauce, and coriander and fennel seeds in a food processor until smooth.  Add to bowl with Brussels sprouts and toss.  Transfer mixture to canning jars (your choice of sizes), packing down to eliminate air gaps.

Combine remaining .7 oz. salt and 1 quart warm water in a large bowl, whisking to dissolve salt.  Add pickling liquid to jars to cover Brussels sprouts, leaving at least 1″ headspace.  Cover jars with lids.  Let sit out of direct sunlight at room temperature until kimchi tastes tangy and releases bubbles when stirred, 3-5 days.  Chill.

Kimchi can be made 2 months ahead (flavor will deepen).  Keep chilled.

*The shape of the crystals varies quite a bit from brand to brand, so measuring kosher salts by weight is the most reliable method.  Following is a conversion scale:

Diamond Crystal kosher salt:

• 3.5 oz.  = 3/4 cup
• .7 oz. = 2 Tbsp. + 1 tsp.

Morton course kosher salt

• 3.5 oz.  = 7 Tbsp.
• .7 oz.  = 4 1/4 tsp.

Recently, I noticed a blog  Tasting Table pushed out.  The title was Mastering the Art of Piroshki, and the feature article was promoting a new book by  Anya von Bremzen called Mastering the Art of Soviet Cooking.  It’s a little tongue in cheek word play against Julia Child’s famous tomb, meant to poke some fun at the dreary picture most people have of Soviet-era cuisine, but also a real cookbook of classic Russian dishes that survived that period.  She and her mother made a little video about making piroshkis and I know I would like to have both of them as friends.

Having a strange compulsion for Eastern European foods, I was quickly attracted to this book.  But then I watched the video.  The dough they mixed in a small ceramic bowl seemed a little dry,  worn out, and thin.  And then she offered a second recipe for making piroshki using American biscuit dough in a tube, a product I despise, and then I knew that this wasn’t my cookbook.

But Allan noticed the title over my shoulder and said, “Piroshkis.  Remember, we used to buy them from a guy on Vendor’s Row, near the Viking Union.”  This was at Western Washington University, where we both eventually graduated.  I had not thought about that for 30 years, but when he mentioned it, I could remember sometimes buying a mysterious triangular-shaped stuffed dough for lunch.  That brought back sweet memories of meeting Allan at Vendor’s Row for lunch when we were in the flirting stage of our relationship, 6 weeks before we were engaged, (Oh, get over it.  We’ve been married for 30 years.  It’s all a memoir, now).  I was coming from music theory class or Cultural Anthropology and he was coming from some upper division political science class, often about the parliamentary system.  I usually had a little lunch with me because I worked most mornings from 5:30-8:30 at the Fountain Bakery, and they gave me 1/2 sandwich and a bag of chips as an employee meal.  But somedays, I didn’t work, and then we bought a piroshki or bagels and some pastrami and cream cheese to go on them.  Allan thought I was unique because I was shopping at the Food Co-op, making all of my own bread, and eating bulgur wheat with homemade yogurt for breakfast.  I thought he was interesting and exotic because he ate piroshkis, worked at a restaurant that specialized in wild game dishes, and went to BC to visit his relatives.  We were both ready to get on with our adult lives and we saw ourselves in each other.  We didn’t really know what we were getting in to, but who does?  We got lucky.  We have maintained the same pace of change and still find each other interesting.

I wanted to make piroshkis for a little date night.  I researched recipes and found one that sounded great from the LA Farmer’s Market.  That’s what you want, right?  A piroshki that is being sold from a cart.  This turned out to be an outstanding recipe.  You could be completely happy making it as it is printed.  I had just returned from our own market and had been a little overambitious in my purchases so I didn’t mind spending a few hours to use some fine food products.  This dough is stellar.  You can actually put anything in it and it will be wonderful.  I made three fillings today.  It did take me three hours to make three fillings and then another couple of hours to make the dough and shape and bake them.  That is a 5 hour Saturday project, but I listened to podcasts and had a nice time and now, I have 6 bags of piroshkis in the freezer for delightful weeknight dinners.  Make the fillings and then make the dough since it doesn’t rise for long.  You could even make the fillings over a day or two and then put it all together in a couple of hours.

Curried Butternut Squash, Sage, and Caramelized Onions

Peel a butternut squash and cut into 1″ cubes.  Steam until completely tender.  In a covered saute pan, cook a sliced red onion and about 20 sage leaves in some olive oil.  Leave a lid on until they sweat and soften.  Remove the lid and continue to cook until they begin to brown and release their sugars.  Remove from pan.  Add steamed squash seasoned with curry powder, in batches if necessary so as not to overcrowd the pan, and also brown until the squash releases its sugars.  Put the entire mixture in food processor and puree until smooth and fluffy.  Correct the seasoning with curry powder, salt, and pepper.  Refrigerate until use.

Braised Lamb, Roasted Onion, Petit Pois, and Mashed Potatoes

Marinate lamb for several hours in olive oil, chopped mint leaves, and finely grated lemon zest.  Braise, with a little water, for several hours at 280 degrees until tender and falling off the bone.  Chop a red onion.  Toss with olive oil, salt, and pepper and roast in a 350 degree oven until soft and caramelized.  Peel and cube, into 1″ hunks, 3 or 4 russet potatoes.  Steam until completely tender.  Drain and hand-mash, with a knob of butter and a little milk.  Season with salt and pepper.  Mix together shredded lamb, roasted onions, 1 small can of petite pois, and a balanced amount of mashed potatoes.  Adjust seasonings.  Refrigerate until use.

Freshly Ground Turkey, Leeks, Chanterelles, and Dill

Grind turkey if not available in the market.  Chop 3-4 leeks and saute in olive oil until softened.  Chop 2 cups of chanterelle mushrooms and add to saute.   Add ground turkey and cook through.  Add 2 tablespoons freshly chopped parsley leaves and  2 tablespoons fresh dill.  Season with salt and pepper.  Refrigerate until use.

Dough

Ingredients

• package (1/4 ounce) active dry yeast
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 1 1/4 cups warm water
• 3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 1 large egg
• 1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1. In a small bowl, combine the yeast, sugar, and 1/4 cup of the warm water; stir gently to dissolve. Sprinkle in 1 teaspoon of flour and let the mixture stand until the yeast comes alive and starts to foam, about 5 to 10 minutes.
2. Put the remaining flour in a large bowl and make a well in the center. Pour in the remaining 1 cup warm water. Add the butter and break it up with your fingers into the warm water so it melts. Add the egg, salt, and yeast mixture. Mix with your hands, incorporating more and more flour into the center to form a soft, sticky dough. Lightly dust your hands with flour as the dough sticks to your fingers. Take care not to add too much extra flour, however, or the dough will become dense. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and fold it over itself, kneading with the heel of your hand, until it’s smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes.
3. Cut the dough into 6 equal pieces and roll into balls; they should be about 4 ounces each (about the size of a cue ball). Sprinkle the rounds lightly with flour. Cover and let rest for at least 30 minutes so they will be easier to stretch.
4. Pat each dough piece into an oblong about 6 inches long and 2 inches wide. Mound about 3/4 cup of the filling evenly down the length of each piece, keeping a small border all the way around. Dust your fingers with flour and bring the long edges up to enclose the filling, pinching them together to form a tight seal. Check for any holes or tears, making sure the piroshki are completely closed.
5. Gently pat the piroshki into 8-inch-long pies; they should spread out fairly easily. Turn the piroshki seam side down and gently pat the tops to spread them out. Lightly dust with flour, cover, and let rise again for about 10 minutes.
6. Arranging them on a parchment paper lined baking pan.  Brush with a beaten egg and top with poppy seeds.  Bake in a 375°F (190°C) oven until golden brown, about 20 minutes.

I like this little forward from the blog that posted the recipe.  I made blueberry and raspberry hand-pies on the Fourth of July in Montana and my family laughed every time I said it.  It does sound funny somehow, doesn’t it?

“Potato Piroshki

September has been a month of bittersweet moments.  It’s always that way.  We reluctantly close the door on summer, while looking forward to autumn’s rotations.  School starts, people make adjustments.  We all get in our new places where we can hold tight for the next 9 month sequence.

Almost two weeks ago, we said goodbye to Gabe, who has been our housemate here since last December.  He is great company, and he loves his rituals in Carthage, including daily swims in the Med., cooking, and reading in the garden, along with studying Arabic.  He will be finishing university this year, commuting from the farm on Lummi.  Here he is with his new roommate, a weimaraner puppy that is a total heart stealer.

Last weekend, we were witnesses to an out of time, magical experience.  We saw the Warsaw Symphony perform in an open-air concert at El Jem, The third largest remaining coliseum in all of Romandome.  The mass of the structure is at the same time thrilling and awful, especially if you have a good imagination and can picture a scene from Gladiators taking place there.

Relishing what will surely be one of the final warm evenings, we sat on cushions, amongst friends, anticipating a harvest moon that finally peeked over the tops of the upper-level arches.  Bats darted through the air as a troupe of young men climbed over the many levels, right before performance time,  lighting torches.  When the scene was perfectly set, the orchestra began.  We thought the acoustics would be something in that space.  I anticipated the sound to be large as it reverberated from the stones.  Quite the opposite, the orchestra was delicate and restrained, showing the maturity of professionals who have played together for so very long.  I sat next to our music teacher from Moscow, and she perfectly said, “It is fragile, just like Chopin should be.”  It was all that beautiful implies, but the juxtaposition between the massive, ancient space and the precise almost insect-like music is my remaining impression.  We were so fortunate to be there.

On our way home through the countryside, we bought our weekly produce.

I am posting yet another picture of my groceries because I can never say enough about our fruit and vegetable situation, here.  I bought all of this:  2 large potatoes, 3 huge pomegranates, 8 young lemons, 6 red onions, and a leafy head of cabbage.  I asked the vendor to repeat the price when he told me how much I needed to pay.  It was trois dinar, neuf cent.  This is almost 4 Tunisan dinars.  This is the equivalence of about 2 US dollars.  The price of local food is one reason why Tunisia is one of the very least expensive places to live in the world, while maintaining an excellent quality of life.

I have seen some magazine articles this month for stuffed cabbage leaves, but I hit on a recipe last fall that is still resonating with me, much like that concert.  While we may think of stuffed cabbage as being heavy, stick to your ribs food, these rolls are lightened by puffed quinoa, herbs,  and freshly ground turkey.  Additionally, a delicate sweet and sour sauce lightens the traditional tomato sauce.

Turkey and Quinoa Cabbage Rolls with Sweet and Sour Sauce

Adapted from a recipe by Emeril Lagasse

6 servings

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup quinoa
• 1 head green cabbage
• 1 pound ground turkey
• 1 onion, finely minced
• 1 tablespoon garlic, minced
• 3 tablespoons parsley, minced
• 1 1/2 teaspoons sea salt
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
• 1/2 teaspoon dried savory
• 1/2 teaspoon dried marjoram
• 1/2  cup water
• 3 cups tomato sauce
• 1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
• 1/4 cup light brown sugar

Procedure

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

In a large saucepan, parboil quinoa for 10 minutes. Turn off heat and let it sit.  Fluff with a fork before using.

Core cabbage and bring water to a boil in a large stockpot. Add the cabbage, cover the pan, and cook until cabbage is softened, about 5 minutes. Keep removing leaves as they peel off easily. Chop the leaves that are too small or torn.  Cut a triangle of the core from the whole leaves and set them aside.
Blend raw ground turkey, the onions, garlic, salt, pepper, allspice, savory, marjoram and
parboiled quinoa. Mix well, adding enough water to make mixture sticky.

Using a small ice cream scoop, mound the turkey mixture onto the broadest part of the cabbage leaf.  Wrap sides around and tuck under. Continue until all of the turkey and cabbage has been used.  If more meat remains than you can use, place it in a loaf pan to bake for 45 minutes.

Mix tomato sauce with vinegar and sugar.  Place stuffed cabbage in baking pan on top of a layer of sauce and chopped cabbage pieces. Spoon tomato sauce over the cabbage. Cover the pan with foil and bake covered for 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

This is a follow up to the beer brewing we have been enjoying these last weekends of summer.  I know it looks like a lot of beer, but once it gets shared out and some tasted along the process, it’s not so much.  It has been fun to watch these men learn some good science together.  I decided that bottling day needed a special lunch, one that stood up to a not-yet-carbonated Double IPA.  Stout.  Indian Biryani rice was a perfect reverse pairing.

Lamb Biryani

• 1 (4 inch) piece ginger, peeled and grated
• 4 garlic cloves, peeled and grated
• 4-6 green Thai, serrano, or cayenne chiles, stems removed
• 2 tablespoons garam masala
• 1 teaspoon red chile powder
• 1 teaspoon turmeric powder
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2/3 cup chopped fresh cilantro
• 1/4  cup fresh mint, chopped
• 2 lbs. boneless or 4 lbs. with bone lamb leg or shoulder, cut into 1 inch cubes or shanks
• 1 cup plain yogurt
• 3 medium yellow or red onions, peeled and very thinly sliced
• 4 tablespoons oil
• 1 1/2 cups water
• 2 1/2 cups uncooked basmati rice
• 1 tablespoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon saffron strands, soaked in 2 tablespoons milk

1.  In a deep bowl, mix together the ginger, garlic, green chiles, garam masala, red chile powder, turmeric, 1 teaspoon of salt, cilantro, and mint.  Add the lamb and mix to coat.  Marinate at least 2 hours in the refrigerator or, ideally, overnight.

2.  After marinating, add the yogurt to the lamb and mix well.

3.  Brown the onions in oil on the stove top.

4.  Turn the slow cooker on low.  Add the onions, 2 tablespoons of the oil, and the marinated lamb to the slow cooker.  Cook for 2 hours.

4.  On the stove top, bring the water to a boil over medium-high heat.  Add the rice and the tablespoon of salt and turn the heat to low.  Allow the rice to simmer for 3 to 5 minutes, at which point most of the water will have evaporated.  If it has not, use a slotted spoon to transfer the rice to the slow cooker.  Discard any remaining water.   Level the rice in the slow cooker with the back of a spoon.  Drizzle the rice with the remaining oil and the saffron /milk mixture, if desired.

5.  Cook for 1 hour, occasionally fluffing the rice with a fork.  scoop and serve.

It is Saturday morning of the first weekend after the first days of school.  It’s not that I was living for the weekend because I don’t like my work.  It is that one week ago, I was racked by a psychological disorder, common to most educators, called First Day Jitters.  Thinking about my classes, I could only picture blank, emotionless avatars of 7th graders.  I was over-planned, but then lacked confidence about my choices for hitting just the right tone for the first days:  a balance between fun and structure, opportunities for free-choice and laid-out requirements.  One day back in the saddle, though, and I again quoted my old friend, Susan Williams, a Southern woman, who says, “They’re all just a bunch of nice little ol’ kids.”  That’s all they come down to, though honestly, our students here do seem to be even nicer than average.  I found my muscle memory quickly returning, guiding me on how to engage them and move them forward.

And the first Saturday, I am enjoying knowing that I’ve kind of got it down.  I have a good picture of where I’m headed, at least, and I can relish a little of the day and this gorgeous time of year.  The weather is still a bit hot and we’re eating light, snacking on lots of fruit.  I just noticed these teeny Japanese pears in the market this year.  They are only about an inch in diameter and have a remarkably long life.  We’ve had a bowl of them available all the time for a few weeks.  They are nothing but juice and only a few bites per pear, so they are refreshing without being time consuming or filling to eat.

Living in a truly seasonal and local food system brings me so much happiness.  It is a delight to discover gems of the produce world at a certain time of year, knowing they will only be available for a few weeks.  You can go ahead and make yourself sick on them because you won’t see them again for a year and by then, they will be novel again.  It keeps my mental and physical taste buds interested and excited for the next turn.

It is feeling like we have only a couple more weeks of fringe summer living.  I say fringe because we do have to keep a schedule now, but when we get home, we can still cook and eat lightly.  We’ve got beach outings lined up for the next two weekends and while I’m chaise lounging, my mind will be starting to plot buying a hunk of pumpkin to make a soup or roasting beetroot.  It won’t be long until we have a complete set change at the market and we’ll be into an entirely new palette of foods.

This was a sneak peek recipe from the latest cookbook of the now famous Tartine bakery in San Francisco, Chad Robertson being the celebrity chef du jour.  The recipe for his naturally leavened simple country bread, in his book Tartine Bread,  is famously 38 pages long.  There are blog sites committed to the at-home discipline of attempting to recreate this loaf.    His new cookbook will be published in November, by Chronicle Books.  The title will be simply Tartine Book No. 3, and I didn’t find anything too complicated about making these chewy, salty drops that went divinely with pears.

Salted Chocolate Rye Cookies

Yield:  5 dozen small cookies

• 1 pound bittersweet chocolate
• 2 oz or 4 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 3 oz or ¾ cup rye flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• ½ teaspoon salt
• 4 large eggs, at room temperature
• 12 oz or 1 ¾ cups muscovado sugar
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
• Good-quality sea salt, such as Maldon or fleur de sel, for topping

In a heatproof bowl set over simmering water, melt together the chocolate and butter, stirring occasionally.  Once melted, remove from the heat and let cool slightly.

In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt and set aside.

Place the eggs in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whip attachment.  Beat on medium-high speed, adding the sugar a little bit at a time, until all the sugar is incorporated.  Turn the mixer to high and whip until the eggs have nearly tripled in volume, about 6 minutes.

Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the melted chocolate and butter mixture and the vanilla extract.  Mix to combine, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed, then mix in the flour mixture.  At this point, the dough will be very soft and loose, which is normal; it will firm up as it chills.

Chill the dough in the mixing bowl in the refrigerator until it is just firm to the touch, about 30 minutes (the longer you chill the dough, the harder it is to scoop; if it chills for more than an hour, remove the dough from the fridge to warm up to room temperature before scooping).

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and line two baking sheets with parchment paper.  Remove the dough from the fridge and scoop with a rounded tablespoon onto the pans, spacing the balls of dough 2 inches apart.  Top each mound of dough with a few flakes of salt, pressing gently so it adheres.  Bake for 8 to 10 minutes, until the cookies have completely puffed up and have a smooth bottom and rounded top.  Remove the pans from the oven and let cool slightly (the cookies may flatten a bit when cooling), then transfer to a wire rack and let cool completely.  Store the cookies in an airtight container for up to 3 days.

Thanks so much for the comments some of you made about my last post.  Many of them were about writing, and they were encouraging.  One old friend, however, read between the lines about the bag of plums providing the first peace I had experienced in weeks.  She messaged me privately and asked, “What is making you unpeaceful?”  It is a fact that my summer was unpeaceful and I considered how to reply to her and tell her that I’m worried about my aging parents. I ache for my young adult sons as they navigate their newly independent lives. I am aware of my own aging and my husband’s and I wonder how the next decades will spin out. I have a lot of responsibilities, and sometimes, I think my knees are going to buckle.  I have relationships that confound me.

I could picture my friend’s undivided attention as she listened to me, applying the full context of how she knows me and my family, waiting expectantly for me to drop the bomb about what is really stealing my joy because everything else I just mentioned is also, I know for a fact, her life and the life of every other mother/daughter/spouse/employee she knows.  These things are life and I guess, like the Buddha pointed out to us:  life is suffering.

I was Skyping with my youngest son this morning, who is a gifted, natural counselor.  I didn’t share any of my stewings with him, but he just happened to mention an article he had read about the unreliability of our perceptions of experiences we have.  This article stated that the narrative that takes place in our minds about other people and events is contrived by our own emotional needs to the point of being almost fantasy.  It seems that humans are the species best adapted to enduring long-term suffering, physical and emotional, and in a sadistic way, it provides mental conundrums to solve which has a reinforcing effect on us.  He paraphrased a C.S. Lewis quote (that I couldn’t confirm) that he had suffered much in his lifetime, some of which was for things that had actually happened.

These two bits of input today helped me.  I might be at a stage of life now where a few more life factors have compounded, but it isn’t exclusive to me.  I think I might start to give myself permission not to own it all, all of the time.  I also think I need to meditate, which brings me back to the plums and how they helped me take notice of something that I’m grateful about.  To all my friends who have more than enough of life at the moment, I hope you find your own small joys.

Here is the recipe for using the egg whites you were left with if you made a triple or quadruple batch of the semifreddo from my last post, which, by the way, you could make with a myriad of fruits if you don’t have or aren’t into figs.

Brown Sugar Angel Food Cake

From Gourmet Grilling, 2011

Serves 8-10

• 1 cup cake flour (not self-rising)
• 1 1/2 cups packed light brown sugar, divided
• 1/2 tsp. salt, divided
• 12 large egg whites (1 1/2 cups), at room temperature for 30 minutes
• 1 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
• 1 tsp. pure vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F, with rack in middle.

Sift flour, then sift again with 3/4 cup packed brown sugar and 1/4 teaspoon salt.

Beat whites with lemon juice, vanilla, and remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt in a large bowl with an electric mixer at medium-high speed, add remaining 3/4 cup brown sugar by tablespoons, beating until whites hold stiff, glossy peaks, 3 to 5 minutes (longer if using hand-held mixer).

If using a stand mixer, transfer whites to a wide large bowl to facilitate folding.  Sift flour mixture over whites and fold in gently, but thoroughly with a large rubber spatula.

Spoon batter into ungreased tube pan and smooth top.  Run rubber spatula or a long knife through batter once to eliminate air bubbles.

Bake until a cake tester or wooden pick inserted into cake comes out clean, 40-45 minutes.  Remove from oven and immediately invert pan.  If pan has “legs,” stand it on those.  Otherwise, place pan over neck of a wine bottle.  Cool cake completely, upside down, 1 to 1 1/2 hours.

Turn pan right side up.  Run a knife around edge and center tube of pan.  Lift out cake, still on bottom of pan, then run a knife under bottom of cake to loosen.  Invert to release cake from tube, then reinvert onto a plate.

Cake can be baked, cooled, and unmolded 1 day ahead and kept, well wrapped in plastic or foil, at room temperature.

Serve with fruit and herbs grilled with olive oil, sea salt, and a little sugar, along with whipped cream.