Heat Wave = Pad Thai

It's been awfully warm the last couple of days, and that makes me want only one thing come dinnertime: cold noodles. There are several dishes I like and make frequently, but nothing ever sounds so good to me as Pad Thai. For some reason, until today I had never even considered making it. I guess I just assumed it had too many unusual ingredients or something. Instead, I've always relied on the iffy offerings at whatever Thai restaurant was in my neighborhood to satisfy my craving, and been disappointed more often than not. No longer.

The recipe below is a combination of several that I found on the internet, plus my own additions of broccoli and carrot to boost the vitamin content. It manages to achieve the sweet/sour/crunchy/smooth/spicy balance I always look for but rarely find, and yet does not include tamarind pulp/paste, a traditional ingredient that I just didn't have the patience to track down in this heat. It does include garlic chili sauce, which not everyone will have in their fridge but if you like heat at all, this condiment is worth keeping around to spice up your pasta sauce, eggs, veggie burgers, etc. The Sriracha brand can be found in the Asian foods section of most large grocery stores.

As a note, the ingredients list and the directions may seem long, but the results are well worth it. Also, if you prep the veggies, etc. first, the actual cooking will come together very quickly and you'll have time to let it cool before serving. Tonight I found out that a Dark and Stormy (ginger beer + dark rum + lime) is a wonderful accompaniment, especially when served outdoors on our first day at the lake this year!





Pad Thai

Main:

• 1 8oz pkg rice noodles
• 1 15oz pkg extra firm tofu, cut into 1/2" cubes
• 2 eggs, lightly beaten

Veggies:

• 1 onion, cut in half and then cut into crescent slivers
• 3 cloves garlic, pressed
• 1 crown broccoli, cut into bite-size pieces
• 1 carrot, peeled and then shaved into long peelings with a potato peeler
• 3 scallions, cut into diagonal slices
• 2 cups bean sprouts

Sauce:

• 1/2 cup Braggs liquid aminos or low-sodium soy sauce
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 2 limes, 1 juiced and 1 cut into wedges for garnish (bring to room temp and roll/press onto the counter with the palm of your hand before juicing for maximum juiciness)
• 2-3 tablespoons Sriracha or other garlic chili sauce

Finish:

• 1/2 cup peanuts, chopped
• 1/2 cup cilantro, chopped roughly

Directions:

1. Fill a medium pot with water and bring to boil, then cook rice noodles for about 4 minutes or until nearly done. Drain and rinse with cold water until cool. Set aside.
2. Combine the sauce ingredients in a bowl and set aside.
3. Heat 2 T canola or peanut oil on med-high heat in a large wok, nonstick or cast iron skillet. Add the tofu and cook about 7 minutes, stirring occasionally. Transfer the tofu to a large serving bowl.
4. Pour 2 T more oil to the wok and stir-fry onion, garlic and broccoli for several minutes.
5. Add the carrot, scallions and bean sprouts. Cook for several more minutes, then add the egg, stirring to scramble.
6. Add the tofu and noodles to the dish, and pour over the sauce over the vegetables. Add the peanuts and cilantro, using tongs to combine everything.
7. Transfer to serving bowl and serve at room temperature or refrigerate before serving. Pass the lime wedges.

Last year's pic, but one of my favorites. Hurrah for Lake Garfield!

Comfort Zones + Miso Noodle Soup

For some time now, I’ve been mulling over a theory about why life has seemed so hard to me since we moved to western Mass. On the surface, it looks like daily life should be easier and far more enjoyable. After all, only one of us works full-time these days, we now have two cars so no more strenuous bicycle commuting across town with children in tow, and we’ve simplified our lifestyle by cutting back on extra-curricular activities for the kids, weekly date nights for us, regular clothes shopping, out-of-town trips, etc. Plus the scenery around us is absolutely gorgeous, with mountains (well, hills really), rivers and ponds everywhere you turn. Yet even with life stripped down near to the basics, we still often feel too stressed to really enjoy our lovely rural surroundings.

At first I thought maybe we were taking things too far to the extreme, so I began to schedule regular play dates for the girls, attending a couple weeknight activities myself, and organized daytrips to give us something to look forward to each weekend. It was fun at first, but then actually getting out to do these things started feeling like one more chore. Also, we were living in a large, old house that was very difficult to keep clean and expensive to heat, so we moved to a newer home that is much more space and energy-efficient, but unfortunately, we have still found ourselves struggling to appreciate our improved living quarters, and there seems to be just as much tension in the house as before.

I was beginning to think that perhaps we were just spoiled, or extremely change-resistant, or maybe both. However, on a recent visit to the Boston area, I was negotiating busy traffic and maneuvering into a tight parking spot when it suddenly occurred to me that I felt very happy in that moment. It wasn’t the kind of external happiness that a beautiful day on top of a mountain might offer, but rather a subtle, internally-driven happiness that I was finally able to identify as the satisfaction of being proficient at something for a change.

Now I wouldn’t call myself a city girl, but I’ve lived in urban environments for nearly all of my adulthood. Over time, I have developed attributes such as having enough street smarts to avoid being mugged or attacked, the ability to navigate a car or bicycle in traffic, a mindset for maximizing time by clustering errands in a given neighborhood, even an instinct for the likeliest places to get change for the meter and which Vietnamese restaurant will have the most authentic pho – these are all things that over the years, I have become quite good at. And every single one of them is completely useless out here in the country.

Where we live now, it would serve me much better to know things like how to light a proper fire and keep it going in a woodstove, what the correct term is for when a goat gives birth, how to use an axe, and where to find aged chicken manure that’s actually been aged. Every single day, I discover something I wish I knew. And then I have to track down someone who knows about submersible well pumps, or septic systems, or driveway material, or building a chicken coop, remember whatever I am able to learn from them, and try to apply it the next time something needs addressing. Out here, it doesn’t matter that I can greet someone and thank them in 10 different languages, dance in high heels, discuss international politics and perform multiple linear regression analysis on a large data set without missing a beat. Nobody here could give two you-know-what’s about that stuff.

Have you ever experienced something this? I remember it happening when I joined the Peace Corps and moved to a small village in Ghana, West Africa. But that was completely to be expected, so I was well-prepared for it. Before now, I think the closest to what I’ve been experiencing lately was when I moved from downtown DC to suburban Northern Virginia. Goodbye walking to work, hello daily commutes on the 405. The stress I felt wasn’t really about being in traffic, though; it was more about having to suddenly think through every aspect of my day. Having to consciously decide to turn right or left out of our apartment complex to head toward the grocery store, having to read the overhead signs in the unfamiliar grocery store to find what I needed, having to navigate the parking lot, instead of simply walking down the sidewalk, in order to leave the store and head home. These and a hundred more small actions requiring my active attention; even more demanding, the almost constant need to search out new information, such as where was the DMV, what time did the laundromat close, and could we still wear jeans when attending our new church. Every night I would sink onto the couch, exhausted from what looked on the surface to be a fairly routine day. Nothing was routine anymore.

Of course, recognizing that what’s been going on here is largely a comfort zone issue doesn’t change much. I still spend most days feeling like a total rube – a city rube, that is – doing my best not to seem too ignorant as I ask questions of those in the know. The main problem, I think, is that I am curious, interested, and I do want to remedy my own ignorance. It would be one thing if I just stayed home, tended to my little family and minded my own business. But that sounds awfully boring to me. I’d rather explore, expand my horizons, push the envelope. So sometimes I do things like drive around aimlessly trying to learn the lay of the land, which might mean accidentally bumbling onto someone’s driveway under the assumption that it was a fork in the road. (Of course, now I know that the small number nailed to the tree is a tipoff that it’s someone’s private property, which they will kindly inform me after chasing me off the road and yelling what the hell was I doing there.)

One of these days, months or years, I hope to feel a bit more at home. And maybe someday, I might even experience an odd sensation when I drive into the city: perhaps a feeling of disorientation, maybe even incompetence. Then I’ll know that my comfort zone has finally changed.

For now, I'm turning to food as a source of comfort, and nothing is more comfortable than noodle soup. This recipe is fool-proof, it's delicious, and it will give you a good reason to not order takeout, since it's ready in under 20 minutes. If you like seaweed (our family doesn't), add it when you add the pasta to cook.

Miso Noodle Soup

1 lb spaghetti, broken in half

1 large bunch bok choi, chopped

1 thumb of fresh ginger, grated

1 garlic clove, pressed
2 T low-sodium soy sauce or Braggs liquid aminos

1 package extra firm tofu, diced small

1 green onion, sliced

1/4 cup sesame seeds, toasted in a toaster oven or small skillet (don't let them burn!)

1/4 cup miso - light or dark, your preference

Set a medium pot full of 8 cups of water on high, bring to boil and add spaghetti. Cook until al dente, or about 7 minutes.

While the water heats, chop the bok choi, grate the ginger and press the garlic.

In a large pot, heat 1 T canola or sunflower oil on med-high. Add ginger and garlic, then quickly add bok choi and soy sauce/Braggs and stir to coat. Saute for about 5 minutes, then add tofu. Turn the heat down to med-low and cover, letting it finish cooking while the noodles cook.

Once spaghetti is ready, remove it from the cooking water using tongs and add it to the bok choi and tofu, mixing them together somewhat. Remove about 1 cup of cooking water and place it in a bowl. Stir in the miso, then add the mixture back into the pasta water, which should no longer be boiling hot.

Add the bok choi, tofu and pasta to the miso broth. Serve with green onion and sesame seeds sprinkled on top.

Quinoa-Veggie Soup + the Sickies

This soup just popped into my head while driving the other day, almost as if in a dream. I must have read a similar recipe somewhere at some point and tucked it away mentally. It turned out to be very tasty; much more delicious than these simple ingredients would suggest. In fact, this is a soup that I'd come back for if it was served in a restaurant. And most restaurant soups don't really impress me. Besides, there's no disputing its nutritional value.

Quinoa-Veggie Soup

In a large pot, heat 2 T canola oil on medium heat, then saute for about 5 min:

• 1 onion, diced
• 1 large carrot, diced

Stir in:

• 2 medium red potatoes, diced (if organic, leave skins on)
• 2 cups shredded kale
• 1 large clove garlic, pressed or minced

Add and bring to a boil:

• 1 can (15 oz) fire-roasted chopped tomatoes with juice (Hunts brand was recently rated #2 after Muir Glen by Cooks Illustrated magazine)
• 10 cups vegetable broth (Better Than Boullion is excellent)

Add and simmer for 15 minutes, covered:

• 1 cup quinoa, rinsed well under running water
• 2 cups frozen corn, organic (unless you prefer your corn genetically modified)

Stir in:

• juice of 1 lime
• 1/2 cup chopped cilantro

Serve with tortilla chips on the side (we love Garden of Eatin' organic blue corn chips).

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So, lately there's been a whole lotta hoopla at our house, including moving, no internet for a week, and personal illness, so I haven't blogged in a couple weeks. The moving chaos was pretty unavoidable, not much to say about that. The no internet for a week, well that's just part of living out here in the land of no broadband/no cellphone coverage, just have to live with things like that. The sickness part, that's been the tough one for me recently. There are some people, and you know exactly who you are, who kind of like being sick. The special attention from family members, visits to doctors, conversations with random strangers about your (and their) illness... it can be very gratifying.

Back when I was studying medical anthropology, I remember learning about how some people take on the identity of "patient" and may be reluctant to give it up, even to the point of psychosomatic illness in order to prolong that identity. Not me. Being sick is something I resent hugely. The time spent feeling lousy and not my usual energetic self, the struggle to keep doing what needs to be done, the missed opportunities for exercise and other fun activities - I hate it all. There is one aspect of being sick, though, that even I can see as compensatory. This is the clarity that sometimes come from stepping back from your usual busy life and engaging in self-reflection. This only happens as long as you don't fill up the void with something else diverting (like we do on vacation).

I've always been interested in liminal spaces - the in-between moments of life, when you're not this, but you're not that either - and the notion that special insights, experiences, and healing can take place there. Think of when people have a near-death experience, or fall into a trance. Afterward, they can't help but be changed. This is one reason why induced trances are so common across cultures and are considered so powerful. For me, lying in bed and on the couch hour after hour, unable to focus on reading or t.v., felt like a liminal space. Not yet dead, but certainly not alive in the way that I am accustomed to being. With nothing else to do, my attention eventually made its way toward my priorities and values, and whether they were well-aligned with my actions. As I considered the gap between my ideal and my reality, I made a resolution or two. Excellent timing, what with it being near the end of Lent and all.

Happily, I'm feeling much better now. Still recovering, but able to cook again with enthusiasm, exercise with caution, and play with the girls to their satisfaction. And I think, a bit healthier in spirit for the experience. Not that I'd have chosen sickness as a route towards self-enlightenment, nor that the path forward is an easy one... but as with everything, I'm grateful for the opportunity.

I'll leave you with this quote from Mahatma Ghandi:

Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.

On Imperfection + Pumpkin Bisque

Today, let’s get the recipe out of the way first. Why talk about Pumpkin Bisque in March, you may ask. Conversation inside Amy’s brain: "Hmm, that daylight savings thing just happened so it must be nearly spring. Uh-oh, time to start spring cleaning. Oh wait, I don’t do spring cleaning. But shouldn’t we get rid of stuff in the freezer and pantry before we fill it up with produce this summer? Okay, I guess you’re right. What am I going to do with all this stuff on the back of the shelf? I’m certainly not going to make a pumpkin pie or anything. Oh wait, what about that delicious pumpkin soup recipe…"

So folks, dig into your cupboards and see if you don’t also have a can of pumpkin or squash puree somewhere back in there. This recipe is almost instant gratification. Somewhere I have the cookbook the original recipe came from, but all the books are packed away at the moment. I'll try to get back and add it to this post after the move (translation: probably not gonna happen).

Pumpkin Bisque

Saute on med-low heat for 3 minutes, until lightly golden:

• 2 T butter
• 1 garlic clove, pressed

Whisk in:

• 3 cups plain soymilk or low-fat dairy milk
• 1 16-oz can pumpkin or squash puree (do not use pumpkin pie filling, trust me on this one)
• 1 T honey or agave
• 1 T soy sauce
• 1 t salt
• ½ t ground ginger

Simmer on low heat for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Enjoy!

  **********

Okay, now here’s what I really wanted to talk about today: Imperfection.

I drove my daughter to school this morning wearing my robe and pajamas. No one’s hair or teeth were brushed. My youngest did not get any breakfast. Let’s just say it’s one of those days. While I could blame it on having a touch of the flu, what really happened when I woke up is that I sank into the blissful abyss of imperfection. You could even say I was reveling in it.

I hope I’m not the only one who gives in occasionally.

Then a surprise phone call came and I totally lost control of my day. It went from blissfully imperfect to downright chaotic, even absurd in a matter of seconds. You know those days when you keep thinking, “Now where did that body double of mine get off to? She really needs to hustle over here so I can do something relaxing, like take a nice hot bath...” Well, that was the rest of my day until now, nearly bedtime.

But I digress. Imperfection. Yes, that’s what we were talking about. Lately I’ve been reading a book called The 10 Habits of Happy Mothers by Meg Meeker, MD. Setting aside the dumb title, it’s actually quite a good book. I won’t go too much into it, but one of the “habits” she talks about is accepting the imperfections in ourselves and in our lives. And forcing ourselves to stop making comparisons. (e.g. she’s got more kids, she’s a better mother, she’s prettier/slimmer/richer, she has a more supportive family/friend network… unfortunately, most women know exactly what I mean. The ultimate goal of habituating ourselves to make fewer comparisons and improve our self-acceptance is to reduce feelings of jealousy. Jealousy can cause us to make poor choices sometimes. It also places unnecessary, unfortunate barriers between women.

This is something I’ve struggled with for years. Growing up, there was definitely the message that other girls were “the competition.” Even before I knew exactly what we were competing for, there was a lot of comparison, self-loathing, and envy. As I grew older, I became a little better at putting that stuff aside, but it was always a challenge. The habit was just too ingrained. So I developed a tendency to make friends with the guys. Now that was just fine when I was single, but having spent, oh let’s see here, 15 out of my 20 adult years (so far) in the married situation, I’ve found that having guy friends often becomes an issue. A bit of a sticky wicket, as the British say (I’m probably botching that, but oh well.) Occasionally these things work out, but more often than not, somebody’s feelings get hurt.

i hope they don't compare themselves as much as i have...

So I keep trying to make friends with other women. I’ve found it much easier to be friendly with those I have less to compare myself with – i.e. single women, women married but without children, women who are only attracted to other women – I guess it’s just simpler that way. But avoiding friendships with women in similar situations causes me to ignore opportunities for real personal growth. That sounds completely trite, I know. Not to mention New-Agey. Let’s put it in more practical terms: I’m missing out on opportunities to bond with women who might have something to offer that is more directly related to my life right now. And I’m missing out on the chance to offer something useful to them.

It occurred to me that doing a quick catalogue of my most glaring imperfections might be a good first step toward acceptance of them. If I can accept my own imperfections, then I should have less to be jealous about in other women, right? So I made a start. I won’t bore you with the list, especially since I don’t want to fish for any comments on my positive attributes (figuring if you know me and are a family member/friend, you must have identified something you like about me by now!) But I do hope you will also try this practice. For me, making the list was both a humbling and an uplifting experience. Literally like I was brought down closer to the ground; that is, more grounded in reality. At the same time, it also felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders; ah, the lightness of self-acceptance. Uh-oh, getting back into New-Agey territory…

I wish you a delightful day; imperfections, chaos, absurdities and all.

Goodbye Gus + Dinnertime Woes update

At some point last October, we acquired a family mascot. It was a large Hubbard squash which we named Gus. In the excitement of the harvest season, Gus and a number of thick-skinned, variously-shaped squashes graced our kitchen counter. Over the next few months, all of them were subsequently peeled, chopped, cooked and eaten. Except for Gus. Fast-forward to early March.

Have you ever tried to cut into a Hubbard squash? I had only cooked one once before, several years ago when we belonged to a CSA. Returning home one afternoon with our vegetable share, I was unloading the car in our driveway when my hands slipped. Crack! Hubbard squash guts all over the concrete. Accidental dropping on a hard surface turns out to be the most pain-free way to open this type of squash.

Not having a concrete driveway at the moment (today our driveway is a frozen ice rink rapidly becoming a mud trough), I needed another way to tackle Gus if he was going to be eaten before next year's harvest season. So I googled, "how to cut a Hubbard squash," which brought me to this link. As I scrolled down, I found this picture:

The text helpfully suggested purchasing a handsaw specifically for cutting squash and keeping it aside for such instances. Other photos depicted someone wielding a rubber mallet and a chef's knife. At the same time. Not having a pristine handsaw or rubber mallet at our disposal, I turned to a Cutco knife I capriciously bought at some point. It is supposedly designed for cutting into things like watermelons and winter squash, though having used it now many times, I think it's actually best for slicing tomatoes. At any rate, after some grunting and growling and a scary number of close-calls where I almost lost a finger, we eventually got through the sucker. The result was two highly unequal "halves" which still needed to somehow get peeled. Being without a microwave, I stuck the squash in the oven for a half hour until its resistance had been broken down a bit.

And then we proceeded with the one of my favorite recipes, Kaddo Bourani. Baked pumpkin plus sweet tomato sauce plus garlicky-salty-minty yogurt, served over rice-lentil pilaf. (To see the recipe, click on the blue word "recipes" because I'm cross-posting an entry I made on a now-defunct blog three years ago. Hey, there are only so many minutes in a day.)
Be forewarned: this dish is not a 30-minute, one-pot meal. But it's a great one to try if, say, your kids are running around the house with feverish glee because it's a snow day and you just want to hide out in the kitchen for a while. Plus, the deliciousness of Kaddo Bourani easily makes up for all the squash struggle and the time it takes to make it. If I ever get to Afghanistan (hopefully during peaceful times), I will definitely be thanking the good people there for originating this dish - it is truly a marvel of flavors.

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The rest of today's post is an update on a different struggle of ours: Dinnertime. Over the past couple of weeks, I've identified a few practices that are making for more pleasant evenings in our casa. If you're also dealing with dinnertime woes, hopefully one or more of these tips will help you, too.

1. Let the kids help. Not with the cooking (a sore point for me) but with setting the table, taking turns being the water pourer, etc. It helps them feel invested, and they learn a few points of table etiquette, too.
2. Let them bring their creativity to the table. Super-crafter Sophia adores making unique placecards each night, and is much happier when her favorite doll also has a place at the table.

3. Bring your creativity to the table also. Light a few candles, make the food visually appealing, play some appropriate music (we do a lot of international food + music themes, which always makes me feel like a 50's American housewife serving a poo-poo platter while dressed in a hula skirt listening to Perry Como, but whatever).

4. Encourage formality. Kids love to dress up and dinner is a perfect time to indulge their whims. Though trying to clean tomato sauce off a hand-wash-only princess dress makes me rethink this one a bit. It's good for them to see you taking dinner seriously, too, by not eating in your workout clothes or pajamas even if it's been a long day and you are sorely tempted. And who among us doesn't like the excuse to have a little wine with dinner?

5. Keep it together. You might be tempted to use the one time you are all in the same room together as an opportunity for airing grievances, minutely scrutinizing everyone's table manners, reliving your own childhood dinnertime woes, etc. Now is not the time. Try to enjoy your food and ignore the small child next to you who hasn't brushed her hair in three days and seems hell-bent on knocking the fork out of your hand with her wandering elbow. Little by little, these things will improve.

All that being said, there are going to be good eating nights and bad eating nights. My key insight recently is that if even dessert can't bribe them to eat their dinner, they just might not be hungry. Hmm, not eating when you're not hungry, now there's an interesting thought to consider... nah.