My Shining Moment

It's not what you think. 

I have never liked measuring ingredients. Salt, nutmeg, even green food coloring--what's the use in hauling out the measuring spoons? (Yes, I once made green cookies.) When I do, on rare occasion, measure an ingredient before dumping it into the bowl, I feel as if I am conforming, succumbing to blandness and normalcy. What's whimsical about employing measuring cups? Doing so will only mean that my cookies are the exact same as everyone else's. Who wants that? Well, I suppose if the cookies are good ... 

As part of my I'm-Almost-Thirty-Kick, I decided I would plan ahead (WOAH) and make something relatively healthy for dinner that would last us for a few days. Since this was Sunday night and we were just about out of fresh ingredients, I settled on something egg-related. I love the flexibility of eggs. It is possible to combine them with just about anything and produce something relatively edible. So, I decided to pursue the adventure that baking a quiche, and before I knew it, I had found not one, but two, recipes. (Who am I? I never do this!) One for the gluten-free crust, and one for the quiche innards. Not that I actually followed the latter all that closely, but it's progress. 

I pre-baked the crust at 425F for 15 minutes. Of course, ideally, I would create the egg situation while the crust was pre-baking, but OH PLEASE, that is not, and never will be, possible. Most recipes, I feel, are arrogant; they act as if it's no big deal to chop obscure vegetables and braise some expensive rodent meat while the electric mixer churns 3  flours that grocery stores don't sell with organic eggs and a homegrown herb or two. I don't have seven hands and two brains! 

On another recipe note, I feel that most recipe layouts, on a scale of readability and design, rank somewhere between mediocre and abysmal. What I would like to see is, at the top, an overview of the cooking methods and tips for how to work efficiently, followed by a list of directions (and possibly accompanying pictures, a la Blue Apron), with the ingredients AND amounts of said ingredients. Why do cookbooks resist the bullet point? Maybe I am extra sensitive to layout and font because for the past two years I have created assignments and written instructions for students with learning disabilities? Regardless, recipes should be friendlier; they should want you to make them! 

Also, I think that minimal commentary in the recipe itself is best. Otherwise, I will skim the recipe (because either I or the husband is hungry and wants to eat this food!) to avoid the excessive instructions and inevitably not perform some crucial step, like, for example, when I threw green beans into the pan without cutting off the ends. Who knew?

But back to the quiche--there was some extra time for the crust to cool down while I finished making the veggie and egg concoction for the middle. The whole ordeal took approximately 75 minutes, though of course I did not time it. 

I have two disclaimers: The original crust recipe would have made two crusts, so I halved most of the ingredients because I only needed one crust. Who needs two crusts? I took care to write out the new amounts so that I would not unintentionally use double the amount I really needed. However, not so accidentally, I used twice as much salt as recommended. I didn't bother halving it, even though I halved all the other ingredients. I figured it's just salt ... so the crust was salty. I also used some peppers from a Blue Apron meal, and I have no idea what they actually are.

 Nevertheless, I was so pleased! 

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My Quiche Recipe

(albeit with rough measurement estimates)

First, make the crust by mixing (ideally in an electric mixer) the following ingredients: 

1) Combine and mix the dry ingredients:

• 1 cup of GF flour
• a sprinkling of flax seeds
• another sprinkling of psyllium husk
• 1/4 tsp of salt
• 1 tsp of sugar

2) Add 1/3 cup of coconut oil and mix. 

3) Add one egg and mix. 

4) Add up to 1/3 cup of water slowly. 

5) Roll out the crust on parchment paper, then flop it into the pie pan. 

6) Bake at 425F for 15 minutes. 

Second, sauté the vegetables and add any desired meat. I used Applegate Farms turkey sausage. 

1) Chop two full-size peppers or one full-size pepper and two mini ones.

2) Throw into a pan with some olive oil. 

3) Chop a zucchini and add it to the pan. 

4) Add meat into the pan as desired. 

Third, concoct the egg mixture and then combine everything. 

1) Combine and then whisk together the following: 

• 5 or 6 eggs 
• a dash of milk 
• 7 or 8 mini mozzarella balls 
• salt and pepper 
• an herb, if you want to be fancy 

2) Pour the veggie and meat mixture into the crust. 

3) Pour the egg concoction on top of everything else. 

4) Bake for 30 minutes at 375F. 

Voila! 

My Next Decade

Today is August 17, 2015. My next decade, the fourth, will begin two months from today. This is all too soon for my taste. Imminent, I say. 

Something compels me to accomplish more than usual before the clocks strikes 6:34 pm (the moment of my birth, though how that is determined, I do not think I want to know just yet) on that very day. It is not as though I am going to die two months from now; no, I will only be turning thirty. 

Lately I've been in a home organization and improvement stage. A frenzy, even. So far this summer, in July and August, I have: 

• straightened up the basement and consolidated the piles of junk 
• put away my teaching materials (that were sprawled all over the basement) 
• shelved my teaching books (these were in bags on the floor) 
• ordered frames (from this company called Framebridge that does it all for you, no less!) 
• ordered art (from Lisa Congdon; from Great.ly, whose site navigation is less than optimal, but whose products I would otherwise never find; and from society6, which I stumbled upon while wilfing) 
• purchased towels to replace the towels I used in high school and college (more accurately, allocated those towels to dog bathing duty) 
• HAMMERED a nail into the wall and hung a scarf rack
• hung my scarves on that very rack 
• ordered a jewelry stand so I stop losing earrings 
• cleaned and organized the porch
• planted red impatiens (and remembered what they are called!) 
• straightened up the book situation all around the house
• reorganized and even labeled items in my bathroom 
• started a Pinterest board for children's books 

OK, that last one is really not related to the rest, not at all. I just really like beautifully illustrated and meaningful children's books. Maria Popova, who runs the site Brainpickings, somehow, among all the other books she reads and writes about, finds amazing children's books like this one in which a cactus longs to be understood and hugged, and this one in which a girl tries to recapture her own heart after many years of feeling its loss. 

I am learning how to use a crockpot. Attempt #3 was yesterday. I feel quite foolish for not discovering it sooner. On a different note, I am trying to embrace this mode of living--not giving a damn if validation comes my way or not. I may be trying to put forth a more concerted effort to wash dishes in a timely manner. 

Also, I am trying to (once and for all!) figure out my personality by reading Me, Myself, and Us by Professor Brian R. Little. I haven't watched his talk yet; I can't sit still long enough. However, I'm almost finished with the book, and, so as not to spoil another post, will only reveal the following: I am a moderately self-monitoring introvert with relatively high levels of neuroticism and conscientiousness who possess free traits that conflict with my primary traits. 

Over the next two months, I'll look at how this decade-commencing birthday is prompting me, and others, to consider and reconsider what we expect from ourselves and from society. What do birthdays make us do? What do they force us to consider, other than the obvious? 

Let's be honest, though, I'm not going to become an early riser or learn how to hang curtains anytime soon. 

Freedom from Domesticity

I've always abhorred crock pots. No matter that I've never had one, I knew all I needed to know: that they symbolized the tethering of a woman to her kitchen. 

As far as kitchen appliances go, they rank the lowest. Others, like the ice cream maker and the waffle iron, which mostly sit idly on the counter or forgotten in a drawer, at least serve a worthy purpose: pleasure. But then, there are others such as the electric mixer and the blender that are worth the counter space they consume. They do, actually, make kitchen life easier and more efficient, and that, I believe, is what we want our machines to accomplish. 

Years ago, I wrote a story in which the female protagonist, upon being abandoned by her romantic companion, hurls the crockpot out her apartment window, where it hurtles through falling snow until it crashes into nowhere else but this man's unfortunately located parked car. 

Back when I wrote that story, the character's actions represented my antipathy toward all things domestic. My vision of her flinging the crockpot solidified my rejection of, and resentment toward, what I felt was the inherent connection between domesticity and femininity. Why is it always women who are featured, smiling blissfully, in advertisements for home improvement and products? A kitchen appliance does not a happy woman make! 

See, the problem with the crockpot is also its blessing: it allows one (male or female) to plan and construct a meal in advance of when one wants to consume it. Really, it alters the time at which one puts together said meal and in theory makes cooking easier. But what it also does is require a certain level of planning. You cannot simply look in the pantry when your belly starts to rumble and then decide to use the crockpot. No, you must find a recipe, stare at that recipe, decide what you do and do not already have, go shopping, follow the recipe, and then start the device with enough time for it to cook the food just slowly enough to be ready when you want it to be ready. A hassle, indeed. 

Here goes nothing ... 

But it turns out that it is a pleasant experience to have food ready when you want to eat it. I discovered this well-known fact just last week. There is something delightful about returning home to an actual dinner. It is almost as though you did not make this meal yourself--the veggies chopped themselves and the meat made its own marinade and everything hopped itself right into the pot in synchrony. The passage of time, of even just six hours, soothes the memory of the earlier labor, or at least it did for me, just this one time. 

I think I will call my Chicken Tikka Masala dish a success. I found the recipe, purchased the ingredients, plopped all the pieces into the pot, left the device on (and did not burn down the house), and returned home to warm, edible food. Four days have passed since this momentous occasion, and though I have yet to actually scrub the pot (why is there not yet a device for that?), I remain at once gratified by the ease of using the device and bewildered by the strange sense of pleasure that using it inexplicably brought to me. 

Chicken Tikka Masala with Sautéed Kale and Rice

Leaving Behind an Immense Responsibility

This week I told my students that I will not be returning next year to teach them. It was a tough conversation, one that I had with each of my four classes as well as with the movie club that I sponsor. Each discussion garnered a variety from responses, ranging from sincere disappointment to superficial concern about the whereabouts of the couch next year. I explained to them that I am going back to school to study how to teach writing to students whose brains work like theirs do. 

To say I am ambivalent would be to deny the gravity of my decision to move onward. To say that leaving is bittersweet would be to conceal my actual feelings under a cliche--something I've discouraged students from doing for years. Perhaps I could say that I am conflicted, though that, too, undermines the certainty I feel about moving on. If there is ever to be a good time to leave behind my duties, and my identity, as a teacher, now is that time. I am tired, but not so tired that I am not teaching well; disillusioned by the disparity between what I want to be able to do and what I cannot do, yet not in despair over what remains impossible; sufficiently disturbed to take action, and experienced enough to know what action needs to be taken; frustrated with the state of education, yet hopeful enough to make improving it the purpose of my career. 

I introduce myself as a teacher. In return, I receive compliments, scorn, condescension, and admiration. Most frequently, however, I am greeted with amazement. How do you deal with kids every day? Teenagers, oh my! Something about these responses conveys the belief that some kind of magic, some enigmatic ability, exists within each teacher; it's as if there's something bewildering to observe in someone who has the skills--gained through years of experience--to instruct children day after day. But it's not magic, and it's not a mystery. It's a lot of dedication, and patience, and continual learning. It requires thinking about thinking, and doing so anew each day, with each kid. 

To introduce myself as something else will feel odd at first. It is who I have been for what feels like so long, but isn't actually that long. Every day, I feel the pressure of making a positive impact, and I worry about saying the right thing at the right moment in order to affect each and every student in the way that I think will help them grow and learn the most. I never know if a flat-out "no" to an answer is going to hurt someone, or how much a word of encouragement can mean. It is, of course, impossible to know, and it may seem silly to worry so much. But when I hear stories from my students of being insulted or demeaned by former teachers, I realize that they remember what people tell them, sometimes for years. I will miss this immense responsibility and privilege, and I hope I will not forget how challenging it is to perform, instruct, confer, create, and inspire. 

Podcast Binge Results: My Favorite Episodes

Scene: At home on a weekend afternoon. 

Me: Gathering the requisite canine-related items to take Schroeder out for a walk. I tell Jacob I'm taking Schroeder out. 

Jacob: "You just want to take Schroeder for a walk so you can listen to a podcast." 

OK, fine, that is true. But also to get steps. Last Thursday (albeit during my spring break) I reached 20,000 steps. I hadn't hit that milestone on FitBit since our visit to Japan last summer. 

Anyway, with all this podcast listening happening, I'd like to share some of my favorite episodes. The explosion of the podcast as a cultural medium has meant that it's fairly easy for just about anyone to make one. However, it's actually quite difficult to make an exceptionally good one. Perhaps I have just been listening to Terry Gross ask difficult questions for far too long. 

Disclaimer: This list excludes the most famous podcast of all time, Serial, because I haven't listened to it. Yet. The "yet" is actually a "maybe, yet," because I haven't convinced myself that I can sink 12+ hours into a story. Half an hour for pleasure, yes. But hours upon hours? I think that's where my resistance comes in. When I listen to a podcast, I feel strangely compelled to absorb information, knowledge, etc!! 

Here's my list! 

1. The New Yorker Fiction Podcast -- March 2015: Etgar Keret reads Donald Barthelme. I sound like a walking contradiction because this is, indeed, a story. But this podcast passes the "teach me something" test because of the way that Keret and fiction editor Deborah Triesman discuss Barthelme's story, "Chablis," which was published in the magazine in 1983. Also, it's a captivating story, one that held my attention while I walked Schroeder at an unspeakably early hour. 

2. Fresh Air -- March 18, 2015: Daniel Genis. Genis, the son of a Soviet emigre, was convicted of armed robbery back in 2003. He'd gotten addicted to heroin and held people up with a knife to get money to pay his dealer. While in prison, he read over a thousand books. Terry asked her characterisically difficult questions, such as something to the effect of: "You had relatives imprisoned in Soviet gulags. How did it feel to be incarcerated for armed robbery?" Genis has written many articles, including this one on sex in prison that the Woolly Mammoth Theatre referenced for their current show, Lights Rise on Grace, and has a book coming out soon. 

3. RadioLab -- Season 13, Episode 3: How Much Would You Pay For A Year Of Life? RadioLab reporters delve into the controversial buisness of drug pricing and interview both doctors and patients. Another, but weirder, RadioLab favorite is a recent episode called The Living Room. An accidental voyeur discovers something about herself as she peers into lives of neighbors without curtains. 

4. Death, Sex, & Money -- April 8, 2015: In Sickness and In Mental Health. I stumbled across this article via Twitter, quickly taking in the horrors that struck one woman as her husband watched and did his best to help. These people are courageous for sharing their experiences with the whole world. Amazing. 

5. StartUp -- October 2014: How To Name Your Company. Alex and Matt, co-owners of a new media company, tell the story of how they came up with their company's name. It might not sound thrilling, but Alex, a former public radio superstar, tells a story that is both entertaining and informative. 

6. Dear Sugar -- Episode 6: How Do I Survive The Critics? As usual, Cheryl Strayed and Steve Almond answer a reader's question and delve deep into the issues that surround the question. This time, however, they invite on George Saunders as a guest. He explains how he faces criticism. Sidenote: Why do people criticize him? I kept wondering how he could feel so confident and composed when dealing with nasty or critical feedback. (I tend to prefer the nasty, since it's easier to disregard.) I felt better about accepting feedback and even criticism after listening to how Saunders does it. 

7. On The Media -- April 2, 2015: Jon Ronson and Public Shaming. After Ronson was the guest on the Daily Show, I looked him up and found this podcast. Ronson discusses his new book on shaming here in much more detail than he could on TV. It's fascinating and horrifying to see how people's lives are indelibly changed by strangers on the Internet. 

Please take a moment and share your favorite podcast episodes!