Free Form Recipes for Rainy Days

I watched it rain and rain and rain yesterday.  I had hoped that because we had breaks in the rain, perhaps we wouldn't have flooding.  But by the time I left the office at 5, the streets were starting to flood. 

Sadly, I'm used to driving through flooded streets.  Wisdom tells us not to drive through standing water, and I do pay attention to drivers going through ahead of me to try to tell how deep the water is.  But if I decided not to keep moving forward, I'm not sure what I would do--the standing water is usually worse to the side of the road.  And I don't have anyone with an SUV who could come rescue me.

I was glad to get home and settle in with a bowl of homemade clam chowder.  I plan to make a pot of chili tonight.  And since we're going to have several more days of rainy weather, let me post some recipes here.  These recipes are very flexible, and if you don't have an ingredient, you can substitute or omit.

Chili

If you have an onion or two, dice them and cook them in a pot with a few T. of oil until they soften.  If not, onion flakes or onion powder will do.  I also add herbs like basil and oregano at this point.  You could also add chili powder, jalapeno powder, cumin, paprika, and other forms of heat (or save them for later--or both).

If you're using meat, now would be the time to add it.  Ground beef, ground turkey, chunks of chicken or beef or pork--any of these would be good.  Brown the meat right along with the onions.

You'll need a few cans of beans.  Any kind will do; my favorite is red kidney beans or black beans.  Open the cans, drain them, and rinse them.  Add them to the pot along with a few cans of tomatoes.  You can adjust amounts to your taste; I like more tomatoes, but my spouse doesn't.

You could also add pasta or rice, although chili purists would disagree.

Your chili will need heat.  I prefer cumin; my spouse loves chili powder and hot sauce of all kinds.  Bring the chili to a boil, and then reduce the heat to let the chili simmer.  You could eat it right away; you could eat on it for days.  I like to let it simmer for at least an hour, but I don't know if it really tastes better that way.

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Seafood Chowder
If you've got a jar or two of clam juice or lobster juice, put them in a pot.  Add a few cups of water.  My spouse also added some beer--white wine would also be good.  I like these spices:  basil, oregano, a bay leaf or two.  Garlic would be great, as would a chopped onion, sautéed separately in butter--with bacon, if you have it.

Dice a potato or two or three or four.  Let them steam/boil in the water.  They don't have to be covered.
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Here's my recipe for an easy lentil soup.  I wrote it for a cousin who hadn't done much cooking, which is why it's in this format.  After the soup recipe come two recipes for what to do with the leftovers:  lentil loaf and lentil salad.

Lentil SoupA timing heads up: this soup needs 30-60 minutes to simmer.

The bare minimum of ingredients you’ll need:

12-16 oz. package of dry lentils
28 oz. can of diced tomatoes (I like Del Monte petite cut)
OR 2 15 oz. cans diced tomatoes
Pot of water

Nutrition Booster:

Several carrots (3-6), chopped into bite size pieces (you can use baby carrots, but they’re more expensive). Carrots are SO nutritious and cheap—don’t be afraid to use a lot.

Flavor Boosters:

1 onion, chopped (or dried onions)

several cloves of minced garlic (put the cloves through a garlic press or look for jars of minced garlic in your produce department and use a spoonful or two; or use garlic powder)

several Tablespoons of olive oil

herbs: oregano and basil

several Tablespoons of brown sugar (or molasses)

several Tablespoons of red wine

several Tablespoons of balsamic vinegar or red wine vinegar

Basic Instructions:

Put the onion and oil in a big soup pot. Turn the burner to high or medium high (8 or so on your burner control dial). Stir the onions around in the bottom of the pot until they’re limp and more translucent. Add the garlic and the oregano and basil. Stir another minute or two.

Put all the sliced carrots that you’re going to use in the pot and cover them with water. Turn up the heat of the burner under the pot until the water boils. Let the carrots boil 10-15 minutes. You want tender carrots before you go any further. Spear one, let it cool, and eat it to be sure.

Add the tomatoes and the lentils and all the rest of the flavor boosters that you’re using. Fill the pot the rest of the way with water. Let the pot come to a boil, then turn the heat way down (you want it to simmer just below a boil—you’ll probably want to keep the heat at medium low—at 2-4 on the dial). The lentils probably need a half hour of cooking at this point. If you think about it, give the pot a stir every so often (if not, no big deal).

You can also let this soup simmer away for an hour or longer. Just keep an eye on the liquid level (those lentils will soak it up as they cook!) and add water as necessary.

You could serve this topped with a dollop of sour cream, if you wish. But it’s great plain.

A pot of this soup will easily serve 6-15 people; smaller groups can get several meals out of one pot. And it’s cheap (it will cost you $1.00-$2.00 to make a whole pot), so when you’re tired of it, throw it out.

What to do with leftover Lentil Soup:

Lentil Loaf

If the soup has been in your fridge long enough, it's likely to have absorbed excess liquid, and you won't have to drain it.

Take 2 cups of the drained soup (you can include the carrots and tomatoes) and put in a bowl. Beat 2 eggs and add them to the bowl. Add 1 cup of bread crumbs (Italian bread crumbs add nice flavor) and a drizzle of olive oil (2-4 Tablespoons). You could stop here or you could add: up to 1 cup of nut pieces (walnuts work nicely), up to 1 cup of seeds (sesame works nicely), up to 1 cup of oats or wheat germ or flour.

If you add a lot of dry ingredients, you might also need to add back some moisture. You want the consistency of wet glop (think meatloaf, if you've ever made it or a mortar mix). Start with 1/2 cup and go up by 1/4 cup increments. You could use plain water or: soup liquid, tomato juice, 1 more beaten egg, or stock.

Grease a loaf pan and add the mixture to the pan. Put the pan in a 350 degree oven. Bake covered for 30 minutes, uncovered for 10. Slice and eat.

You might want to serve with some sort of sauce. I used to serve it with Hollandaise, but ketchup might work too. If you're a non-vegetarian, gravy might be a treat.

Lentil Salad
Boil as much liquid out of the soup as you can (or drain it--or let it sit for several days, and it will absorb the liquid). Add chunks of feta cheese to the lentils, along with tomatoes (cherry tomatoes cut in half work well), cucumbers, peppers or whatever veggies you have on hand. Voila! A lentil salad (feel free to serve it on top of greens) or something you can spoon into pita bread.

 Cut some white fish into bite size pieces.  Or use any fish you like, including cans of tuna or salmon.  Shrimp would also be good.  A can of clams would work too.  Add those to the pot.  Bring down the heat so that the liquid simmers.  Add some frozen corn.

Towards the end, add enough milk/cream/half and half to make the soup a chowder.  If it's not thick enough, whisk in some flour.  If it's too thick, add more milk/cream/half and half.  Heat it all to a piping hot temperature, being careful not to curdle the dairy.

Summer Rains

The rainy season has returned.  I hesitate to use that term, "rainy season."  When we moved down here in 1998, we had a clear rainy season and then a dry season.  There was some blurring around the edges, but never torrential rains in the dry season, like we've seen in recent years.

Still, there's a comfort to thinking that the rain reappears on a schedule.  Yesterday, out of the corner of my eye, through the window I saw a flock of white sea birds against a gray, stormy sky. Oddly, my first thought was that it was snowing. If it ever snows in South Florida in June, we will know that the planet has crossed some sort of Rubicon.

Last night, as we enjoyed wine and cheese with our friends in their back yard, we heard storms rumbling towards us.  Happily, we live in the same neighborhood, so it didn't take us long to get home.  We may have left prematurely--it took awhile for the storms to settle in.

There was some talk of tornadoes and power outages, but our corner of the county was spared.  We didn't even get much thunder--or street flooding.  These days, with any rain, we keep a wary eye on the water levels on the streets.

I do miss the gentle rains, the pitter patter that lasts all night and soothes us to sleep.  We don't have much of that rain these days.

This morning, before dawn, I walked outside to watch the storms approach.  The sky pulsed with lightning from the east, but we have avoided thunderstorms so far.

This morning, I'm remembering June of 1999, one of the record breaking months when it came to rain accumulations.  I got more writing done that month than I perhaps ever have.  I would go teach my class in the morning and hurry home ahead of the rain.  From mid-morning to the time when my spouse returned after 5, I wrote and wrote and wrote--and mailed out packets of poetry, despite the fact that many literary journals were closed for summer.  It was heavenly.

Today will not be one of those days.  I must soon hurry to the dentist and then be on my way to work where I will assemble the final accreditation document for this round.  I will have some tea and coconut bread.  It will be a different kind of rainy, writing morning.

Summer of Sangria: Ginger Lime Sangria

I have been looking for ways to reduce my wine consumption.  A few weeks ago I read a raft of stories that talked about the rise in breast cancer risk with each alcoholic drink one consumes--drink more than 5-7 drinks a week, and your risk goes up to 40%.

While those stories leave me with many questions about what constitutes that risk and how the researchers could be sure it was alcohol and not some other factor, I decided it was time to think about cutting back.  Even though I should also be cutting calories, I decided to experiment with sangria, even though a glass of sangria wouldn't save me many calories.

Last week, I experimented, and it was delicious!  I begin each glass with equal parts sugar syrup, white wine, and club soda.  Then I continue to fill the glass with club soda once the glass is half full.  I've also been experimenting with frozen fruit in addition to ice cubes--it makes a beautiful glass.

Here's the recipe for the sugar syrup.  I mixed it with cheap Sauvignon Blanc from Trader Joe's.  In the future, I plan to experiment with different fruit juices--stay tuned!


Ginger Lime Sangria

4 C. water

½ C. – 1 C. sugar

Ginger slices (peeled)—to taste—I used 8 slices; I've also used powdered ginger.  It's not as fresh tasting, but it's good too.

Bring the above to a boil and let cool.

Add the juice of 4-8 limes (about ½ C.).  Chill.

Saturday Language Joys

This morning, I am listening to this interview with Colson Whitehead talking about The Underground Railroad on Fresh Air.  Friday night and Saturday morning I reread much of the book because I was hosting a group of readers who wanted to discuss the book.  We had trouble finding a time when we were all free--yesterday was the day.  I suggested that we meet at my house instead of a place that serves coffee because it would be quieter, cheaper, and we could linger.

I wasn't sure what to expect because I only knew one of the people who came to my house, a woman from church.  Her sister wanted to join us, and then her sister's friend from work.    I thought they'd all arrive in the same car, but the friend came first.  I was expecting a female friend, but he was male.  After a few seconds of confusion at the front door, all went well.

It was so great to be with people who are readers and who understand the importance of books.  We agreed that we were surprised by the brutality in the book, and that we were surprised by our surprise.  We spent a lot of time talking about the beauty of the writing.  My friend had actually written down the passages that moved her--and she read the book on her Kindle, so I find it interesting that she wrote down, with ink on paper, the parts she liked.

We talked about books too, books as physical objects (do we underline or not?) and books we listen to as we travel through the day.  My friend listens to a lot of books on CD.  She also recommended the website The Modern Mrs. Darcy.  We talked about the 2017 reading challenge, which two of them are doing.

We lingered for over two and a half hours--it was a rainy Saturday morning and so perfect to enjoy coffee, donuts, and fruit--and a deep conversation about a book.

I ended the day by thinking about words in a different way.  We went over to a different friend's house, and we played Scrabble after dinner.  It was a friendly game, and we talked about what makes a difference in terms of tiles.  Much of it is the luck of the draw, but it also helps to have a good vocabulary--and to remember how to spell.

It was the kind of day that left me grateful--and wishing for more.  Having friends after age 50 is so different than having friends in college.  I see people less often and almost none of my friends on a daily basis, the way I did in college, when we all practically lived together.  It's harder to find a time when we're free.  I want to believe that because our time together is limited we get to deeper conversation more quickly. 

Friday Evening on the Porch

Last night was another lovely night on the porch.  We hurried to get our Friday night hamburgers grilled before the rain came, and then we relaxed.

We ate our burgers--sloppy because we had burgers bigger than our 2 remaining buns that were in the freezer.  And because they were sloppy, we cleaned up right away.

We made some more sugar syrup, since we're both enjoying the white wine sangria I've been making.  Luckily I was in a hurry and didn't let the syrup come to a rolling boil--when I poured it into the pitcher, some of it went on my hand.  When it first happened, I thought, oh boy, now I've done it.  We treated my hand with aloe gel and ice, and this morning, it hardly hurts at all. 

We went back to the porch, where the rain had gotten serious.  I held ice cubes in an old sock in my hand and started rereading Colson Whitehead's Underground Railroad--I waxed so enthusiastic about the book when I first read it that a friend from church read it too, as did her sister, and her sister's friend.  They asked if I'd meet them to talk about the book--of course!

It's taken awhile for us to find a day when we're all free, so by now, it's been awhile since I've read the book.  I thought I would just skim it, but it's so compelling that I immersed myself in it.  What an amazing book.  In terms of admiration for what the author is attempting, this book may be the best of this year. 

It was a lovely evening, one that I needed.  We had Monday off, but the rest of my work week left me feeling tired, including a late night Thursday at a wonderful Allied Health Professional Advisory Committee meeting.

It occurs to me that I'll have book folks arriving soon, so let me bring this post to a close and get started on the morning.

Lighter Carbon Footprints

Compassionate people have no shortage of outrage provoking events this week.  I feel sorrow at Trump's decision to pull the U.S. out of the Paris Climate Agreement, even though I felt that, as with most climate agreements, it was too little, too late.  Still, as my German friend points out, it was a treaty with 200 nations agreeing to specific actions, and that was no small thing.

So, for those of us feeling despair, let's remind ourselves of actions that we can take that will help the planet.  We know what to do, right?  Reduce, reuse, recycle.  Here are some ways to do that:

--If we're feeling despair because we know the power of large groups, let's remember that an international treaty is not the only way to harness that power.  We can join a local group that works on these issues.  We can give money to groups that work to save the planet.  The poet Matthea Harvey asked her ecologist sister for her recommendations for some of the most effective groups:
      --Union for Concerned Scientists (which does a lot of policy work and tries to get the government to take scientific information on board) 
      --Environmental Defense Fund (which does a lot of climate change work)
      --World Resources Institute (which does a lot of forest conservation and climate change work)
      --Conservation International (where she works)

--It's amazing how many plastic bottles end up in the trash, and then in waterways and washing up on beaches.  Buy a reusable bottle, and fill it with water from your tap.  Most of us have perfectly acceptable tap water, and the water that comes in those small bottles is likely from a tap from a far away state.  If you don't like the taste of the water that comes from your tap, let it sit in a pitcher overnight, or figure out a way to filter it, if necessary.

--Similarly, lots of plastic bags end up in the trash.  You could bring your own bags to the grocery store.  Even if you like those plastic bags, which I understand, you could bring those and get several shopping trips out of them.

--Buy items that come with less packaging if possible.

--Before you buy, ask yourself if you really need the item.  I try to check out more books from the library, for example.

--Every item that goes into your trash can is likely going to sit in the earth for a long time.  Most of us know that landfills don't let items decompose.  Try to put less stuff in the trash can.

--My grandmother buried her food scraps, which led to the most rich soil I've ever seen.  Even when she no longer needed it for the garden she could no longer create, she did that.  We can compost in any number of ways.  For example, I often put my cut flower arrangements out in the yard to finish decomposing--no digging necessary.

--If we don't want to get our hands in the dirt that way, we could plant.  I find it very healing to plant things, especially if they're fairly independent plants who won't need me after the first few weeks.

--Think about the ways that we use electricity and water--can we use less?  Let's start with basics:  turn off the lights, turn off TVs that no one is watching, turn off computers when we're not using them.  Don't let the water run when you brush your teeth.  Take shorter showers.  The hardcore among us already do this:  no need to flush the toilet after every use (if it's yellow, let it mellow; if it's brown, flush it down).  If no one's going to be home for hours, do you need to cool/heat the house as if people are there?

--If we own our houses, we could think of ways to make them more energy efficient.  Now might be the time to invest in solar panels.  We could install water saving shower heads and toilets.  If we need to replace our water heaters or appliances, we can get the most energy efficient, instead of the cheapest, if we are blessed with enough money.

--In everything we do, we should be aware of our carbon footprint.  Can we combine car trips?  Most of us drive alone in cars that pollute, even if they're hybrid vehicles.  Use them less.  Can we eat less meat?  Cattle production leads to more methane in the atmosphere, which contributes to global warming.  The next time you're on a packed airplane, rejoice:  your carbon footprint is lighter.

Dystopias, Real and Imagined

Careful readers of this blog might realize that after Trump's election, I, like many readers, have been revisiting various dystopian novels.  But this week, I read one of the most insightful pieces about what literature can teach us about our current time.  Ron Charles, in this article in The Washington Post, states, "By now it should be clear that the Trump administration is nothing like the ruling power of Orwell’s Oceania or — another common claim — like Margaret Atwood’s Gilead in “The Handmaid’s Tale.” The repressive governments of those imagined hellscapes are marked, primarily, not by their vast deception but by their absolute order. Flawless message control and meticulous image manipulation are the foundations of their sovereignty. Nothing could be further from the continuous upheaval that Donald Trump wreaks."

What does Charles suggest instead?  King Lear, which makes astonishing sense, even before I read his argument.

I spent part of this week reading Timothy Snyder's On Tyranny:  Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century.  It's a larger exploration of the lessons that Snyder first published on his Facebook page just after Trump's election (published as an article here), and it's excellent.  I underlined a lot of it--and I learned about Churchill too.  I had forgotten (or did I ever learn?) that Churchill stood up to Hitler when it was widely expected that England, too, would accommodate and be taken over.

But I have spent the most time this week reading Margaret Drabble's The Radiant Way.  As I've said before, I'm surprised by how relevant it still seems, especially when it comes to people (women especially) making a tenuous living:  "It occurs to Alix that if she loses her various part-time jobs, she will be eligible for next to nothing in the way of redundancy payment, having worked, as women do, so episodically, in so piecemeal if persistent a manner.  And where, at her age, would she find another job?" (p. 191).  It's the plight of every adjunct I know, in this time of tightening budgets at almost every school in South Florida.

Even those we think are safer will not be:  "Esther Breuer's connection with market forces has always been tenuous, but even she is a little affected by the magnetic shift.  The series of public lectures in one of our public galleries which she had intermittently graced with her erudition is discontinued.  As she was only paid 12.50 pounds a lecture, this ought not to make much of a hole in her budget, but as her budget is rather small, it does" (p. 192).

Rereading this book is bittersweet:  seeing the passages I underlined when I first read it in grad school, discovering the phone message note that I used as a bookmark along the way which tells me that the VCR can be fixed for  $36.00, thinking about the woman I am now, appreciating the prose of Drabble (did she coin the phrase "fierce cups of tea" or is that standard in Britain?), worrying about my own future.   How interesting to think about how those worries about the future are similar to the ones I had when first reading the book (worries about social policies, worries about decline, worries about my aging relatives and my own aging body)--and yet they've got different shadings now.

We think of dystopian novels as those like Parable of the Sower, by Octavia Butler, a book which still seems eerily predictive.  But how interesting to look at dystopian novels that are also realistic, like Drabble's.