No eggplant love

Naked eggplant

Isn't an eggplant beautiful? I love that aubergine color -- and the word aubergine -- and the smooth skin. At my house, the diners would prefer to look at one rather than eat one. It is only acceptable in a dish that disguises the eggplant, like a good baba ghanoush. I should have predicted the reactions to tonight's dish, which was inspired by a homework assignment from the cooking science class that I've been taking.

It's pretty, isn't it? I had to make substitutions in the recipe, as I didn't have lemon thyme on hand. I do have plenty of za'atar, so this was a most fragrant eggplant when it came out of the oven.

It got prettier with the addition of garlicky buttermilk sauce and the appealing pop of color from the pomegranate seed garnish. A sprinkling of sumac completed the dish.

Dressed eggplant

The problem arose upon serving. The flesh was grayish green, no matter how I looked at it. My solution was to drown it in more sauce.

The girls couldn't stomach it. "I like the pomegranates," Taryn said, generously. Kathy glared at her plate. I know exactly what she's going to look like as a teenager -- she is an eight year old goth, with black lipstick and a great scowl. The only thing throwing off the picture is her missing top tooth. Zed pronounced the eggplant slimy, then made samosas from Trader Joes so the girls would actually eat something.

Braised in Salsa

At least one food critic thinks that "put an egg on it" is a food trend that is so last year. I will be stuck in the food trend past, then, as I continue to slide a fried egg on top of just about any dish. My favorite is a fried egg on a slice of pizza.

Braised egg image from Eating Well

I also see that I've been using the wrong term for my new favorite egg-prep method. This recipe from Eating Well describes my "poached in salsa" as braised eggs. In any case, this makes the best egg ever.

Back to food trends, is molecular gastronomy over too? I don't get out for fine dining experiences that often, but I'd like to try something like these olives. In fact, I purchased the sodium alginate and calcium lactate gluconate so I can experiment at home.

Make that we can experiment at home. My chemist/cook, Taryn, is helping me out with the online class I am taking from edX. It is called Science & Cooking: From Haute Cuisine to Soft Matter Science. The course is full of math, physics, chemistry, and food. I signed up for it on a whim, but the material has captured me: I want to do my homework!

One of the first assignments was to calibrate my oven, which I now know runs about 35 degrees hot on convection. I always had to set the temperature lower when using the oven's fan. I didn't know by how much, and I burned a lot of cookies. The candy that resulted from doing the calibration test was yummy, too. (See it in the image below? The caramelized splat.)

Sugar melted at "330" degrees F in my oven. The melting point of sugar is 366 degrees F.

Up next, a recipe for eggplant, examining the recipe for Nestle's Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookies, and (this makes me happy) "perfect eggs."

I Promise You Won't Suffer

I Promise Not To Suffer: A Fool for Love Hikes the Pacific Crest Trail by Gail D. Storey
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

You know this book has to include some suffering, despite its title. A memoir of hiking the PCT would not be complete without some major hurting.

The trail starts in California at the Mexican border, and ends 2,663 miles later at Washington's Canadian border. That number speaks for itself: my feet are sore just thinking about hiking that far. Add in walking through desert, climbing alpine heights, crossing ice fields, and fording raging streams. And bears!

The PCT hiker's interior journey can be just as full of pain as her physical experience. That's why I keep reading memoirs of the trail. This author had a lot going on in her head before she started the trip, and her time on the PCT brought many anxieties to the surface.

On this list is her dying mother, who had promised to be alive when the author finished the trail. Another is her husband, whose dream inspired the couple to sell their house and live on the PCT for six months.

One question I have when I start one of these memoirs is, "Will the author finish the trip?" I won't answer that question here, for fear of spoiling it. I will say, that in the end, the journey's weight is in the author's interior transformation. It's a good addition to the list of Pacific Crest Trail memoirs.

View all my reviews

Other memoirs of the Pacific Crest Trail include:

• The Cactus Eaters: How I Lost My Mind -- and Almost Found Myself -- on the Pacific Crest Trail, by Dan White (which I read and enjoyed)
• Wild, by Cheryl Strayed (here's a link to her interview on NPR)
• The Trail Life: How I Loved it, Hated it, and Learned from it, by Julie Urbanski
• Skywalker: Highs and Lows on the Pacific Crest Trail, by Bill Walker

Those last three are on my to-read list. Have you read any of these? Or better, hiked a part of the trail? Been a thru hiker on the AT, or attempted any journey like these? I'd love to hear about your experiences, first-hand or otherwise.

Rain, Mud, and Sugar Cookies

Five muddy miles, done!

It's been raining here for five days straight. A tropical storm and a nor'easter met in the skies above us and decided to settle down together. Waves of rain slosh down, dreary skies become the norm, and the kids don't want to leave the house.

The girls say they don't want to go outside and stomp in puddles because they don't have rain boots. When did they start to care about keeping their feet dry? These girls used to stomp in puddles all over town, in the least appropriate footwear.

For entertainment, Taryn has been baking treats. She googled a recipe, and, on her first try, made the best brownies ever to come out of our oven. Next up were "green velvet" cake pops. I took a turn with "apple pie" muffins, which were meant for breakfast but didn't last that long. Today, she and a friend made sugar cookies with orange icing and black sprinkles.

I think I haven't been setting a good example. I didn't run outside in Thursday evening's deluge, choosing the treadmill, a DVRed episode of Top Chef, and dry feet instead. In fact, our only outside time has been the dash from house to car, to library/dentist/friend's house, back to car, back to house.

If a race hadn't been on my calendar, I wouldn't have gone out into the weather this morning, either. I would have missed out. In the woods, I felt like a kid again. I got my feet soaking wet, I was covered in mud, and I loved it. Seriously, [I am addressing you, Taryn and Kathy] you don't need rain boots if you want to get wet.

At home, I hosed down before leaving for the dry sauna at the gym. The cold had a good grip on my toes and fingers, and was hard to shake off, even in 175 degrees. I baked myself in that cedar paneled room and thought about what made this morning's race so fun. Being on home turf was easier than driving an hour to the starting line. The camaraderie on the trail was great, with two friends in the race with me, and another volunteering at an aid station along the way.

But the secret ingredient? The special sauce was the experience of sloppy mud, the shining rocks, the flowing creek, the sound of wind in wet leaves. All thanks to the rain.

On the next rainy day, Taryn and Kathy, let's go on a walk with the intention of getting wet. I will make you hot chocolate when we get home, and you won't miss having rain boots.

The Not-So-Interestings

The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer
My rating: 1 of 5 stars

The fact that this book is due at the library is my excuse (not that I need one) for giving up on this book. The characters so far are successful/not successful, smug/jealous, oblivious/way too introspective for their own good.

If someone gives me encouragement to keep going, I'll try reading it again. Anyone? Anyone?

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Cats happen

Reader beware: For animal lovers only. The following post contains sappy memories and mild anthropomorphism.

I adopted my cat, Peanut, when I was in grad school. My then soon-to-be-ex boyfriend sputtered, "Why did you do that without asking me if I like cats?" I learned something valuable with that conversation, that any partner of mine would have to take a package deal: me and my cat.

After we got married, Zed (who doesn't love animals but tolerates them) and I rescued a cat whose sister was adopted without her. Miss Parker and Peanut became friends in their own cat way. When our first baby arrived, Miss Parker became a nanny cat, and protected Taryn from Peanut, who kept trying to head-butt our infant.

Miss Parker taking her turn watching infant Taryn.

Taryn pulled herself up and surprised Peanut.

Years later, after the deaths of these much loved feline family members, I promised myself that I was done with pets. It is too heartbreaking to say goodbye to these little souls. Miss Parker had feline leukemia and died too soon. Peanut stayed with us for a good, long time, but her kidneys eventually failed, and all four of us were devastated after her death.

No more cats. 

That arrangement lasted for four months, until a cat arrived in our lives: we agreed to foster a stray who had wandered through my friend's neighborhood for a while. Fostering turned into forever after Taryn and Kathy fell in love with Eli. I loved him, too, but I let the girls mount a campaign to talk their daddy into keeping the cat. It's harder for him to say no to them than to me!

One cat was enough.

Then our dear friends announced they were moving out of state and needed some help. Could we watch their cat for a couple of weeks until their house was sold? It was fun to have a second kitty in the house. Eli followed Ginger around, trying to get her to pay attention to him. When she drank from the bath faucet, he sat on the side of the tub and watched. When she left the room, he left too. When the canned food was good enough for her, it was suddenly good enough for previously picky Eli. Ginger charmed the humans, as well. She rearranged the girls' stuffed toys, leaving them in a pile on the landing. She howled in the night, perhaps a love song to the toys she had herded. Our friends moved away* and took Ginger with them.

We missed that second cat.

Our solution was to adopt two kittens. The older one was the last of his litter to be adopted -- saving the best for last -- and the younger one was that rare cat singleton. Tank and Rascal became brothers in their foster home, and wanted to stay together. They fit right in with Eli, who, at seven years old, is experiencing a second kittenhood. He rumbles with his new brothers, chasing them up the stairs and being chased back down. He grooms them and cuddles with them. He wrestles with them and is generally gentle.

Tank, Rascal, and Eli love their wet food.

Three cats watch the falling leaves together.

So now we have three cats. 

Our spending at PetSmart has, predictably enough, increased. The vet bill is only slightly horrifying. The girls are thrilled. Zed reminds me that it is my turn to clean the four litter boxes. 

I woke up last night with three cats keeping me warm. I'm pretty sure they just wanted to wake me up to feed them, but I am choosing to believe they were purring their love for me.

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*We miss our friends, too! But that would be a separate post.

Camping trip traditions

Our local homeschool group has been around for long enough now that we have well established traditions. In September, we enjoy a "Not Back to School" picnic for families. We party at the opposite end of the year with a combination field day and picnic. In between, we have Park Days every Friday for kids. (An unofficial, alternate name for these gatherings is Homeschooling Parent Support Group.) In warm enough weather, we meet at a playground. In cooler months, we get creative and go bowling, visit a bounce house, attend nature classes, and go on field trips.

One last tradition is our October camping trip. It started in 2008, when six of our group's families spent a weekend at Cunningham Falls State Park. 

These girls don't remember a time they didn't go camping together.

My younger daughter had just turned 3, and she doesn't remember a thing about that camp out. I do: the first night was rainy, we slept in hats, and little Kathy and I snuggled in my sleeping bag. (I've also got some great pictures to jog my memory.)

An outcrop of rocks in the middle of our group's sites became a playground. The kids clambered up and around them all weekend. It was only when I reserved those same campsites the next year I learned that they feature "a severe drop off of the back of the camping pad" and are "not suitable for children." This perceived liability had become our group's favorite spot!

Kids still play on the rocks in 2013

On Sunday we returned from our sixth camping trip to the same park, the same sites. The group has grown: this year we had twelve families (with fifteen girls, five boys, and two dogs).

This isn't even the entire group of campers

We tried something new this year, and reserved one site where we could gather as a community. That was a successful experiment! During the day, the kids played on the camping pad, and at night, the grownups brought their chairs to enjoy a big fire.

Community campsite at night

The weather cooperated by not raining on us -- a tradition that has held since our second year, and one that I cannot claim any responsibility for. We went on a group hike, ate countless s'mores, played flashlight tag, burned hot dogs, and enjoyed being unplugged for the weekend. I talked two of my friends into going on a sunrise trail run to the falls and back. 

Spectacular colors

New for me this camping season is my Dutch oven. I'm totally in love with it for camp cooking. Instead of burning our hobo packets in the coals of a fire (or worse, undercooking them), we arranged them in the pot and let the radiant heat of charcoal briquettes do the work. I have used it to bake mac'n'3 cheese, "dump cake," biscuits and bacon, and banana boats, successful every time.

Dutch oven plus campfire

I also invested in a happy, apple green percolator. I loved drinking hot coffee in the great outdoors while watching my girls and their friends running around before the sun appeared over the mountain.

My breakfast starts with coffee

We have a lot of camping equipment, and I'm pretty sure there isn't room for much more gear, even though we probably need a second tent. This is true car camping! I'm not sure how getting ready for two nights in the woods takes up this much space. At least we did not forget our sleeping bags this year.

Everything and the camp kitchen sink

What a great time! I love how the kids create play in nature. I love the fresh air. I love the relaxed time with my husband. I love how the leaves fall in a gentle breeze. I love spending time with my friends. I can't wait for next year's adventure!

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Recipe for Mac'n'3 Cheese, transcribed from a GS leader training packet:

Old Fashioned Macaroni and Cheese

(One pot OR Dutch or Box oven)

1 12-15 oz. box pasta

1 stick of butter

8 oz sour cream

2 cups small curd cottage cheese

Onion powder

Salt and pepper

12 oz sharp cheddar cheese

Cook pasta. Melt butter into pasta. Mix with other ingredients and place in greased pan.

Cook over low heat until cheese has melted and mixture is thick and creamy; stirring frequently

OR

 Cook in a 350 degree oven for 30 minutes or until cheese is melted and bubbly.

Poached in Salsa

You know how routine can be both a security blanket and a crutch? How a day, week, or month all planned out can be both satisfying and stultifying? How traditions provide comfort, yet sometimes you need a break?

This blog is about comfort, routine ... and shaking things up. The name is inspired by radio interview and a jar of salsa.

In brief:

I like to fry an egg in butter, flip it with a flick of the pan before the top of the white has set, count to ten, and slide it onto the plate. A pinch of salt, a grind of black pepper, and I am satisfied, comforted, and full.

On the radio one morning, a Mexican chef described her simply perfect egg: she poaches it in salsa. I'd never thought of doing that, but now I wanted to try it.

Soon after, I picked up a jar of tomatillo salsa at Trader Joe's. For breakfast the next morning, I heated up the spicy, green sauce in my omelet pan, broke the egg on top, and let it poach until the white was set but the yolk still ran.

I won't call it a revelation, but, wow, that egg was good!

It's just a little thing, an egg poached in salsa, but it made me happy and reminded me to try something new. This tweak in routine -- cooking my egg in salsa instead of frying it in butter -- inspired me. Not only to try this cooking method with traditional tomato sauce and olive tapenade, but to start a blog. This is pushing me out of my comfort zone and routine, for sure.

What have you done that's new to you? How did it work out for you? I'd love to hear about it.

Thanks for reading!

Louisa