Last year around this time I made my first pumkpin custard. It turned out ok. It was resembled nothing that I had in mind and I vowed to get it right next year. Next year is now upon me and the CSA I belong to has been supplying me with (awesome) sugar pumpkins and free range eggs. I googled pumpkin custard and was bummed out because there were about a gagillion recipes but I could tell that none of them were for me.
You see I've got a particular flavor and texture in mind.
So I started from scratch which is to say I started out where I left off last year - making a custard that had pumpkin in it. Can you see what's going on here? I end up with a custard that's pulpy and lacks the smooth yummy goodness I'm in search of.
After making another unsatisfactory custard I meditated on this highly flawed dish and what came through was "emulsify." I have an emulsifying blender at the house but not the apartment. I've also got a coworker who is vegan and so she's had to overcome all kinds of food challenges. She makes a pumpkin pie with silken tofu. (And I might go there someday but it won't be anytime soon.) I told her about my dessert disastifcation and one thing led to another and she suggested that I put the cooked pumpkin through a metal strainer (or food mill). I said I'd give it a shot.
I rushed home (because I'm obsessive like that) and got into the thick of things.
The strainer did the trick. The pumpkin was the consistency of baby food and that's what I needed to get it all happy with the eggs and the milk and sugar.
If you're looking for a pumpkin custard (& one that won't remain uneaten for long) give this a shot.
Preheat over 350 F
1 c baked organic pumpkin (pushed through a strainer)
1.5 c milk (heat to almost boiling)
1/4 c organic granulated sugar
3 eggs (free range)
1 tsp ground cinnamon*
a pinch of ground cloves*
a pinch of salt
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
in a large bowl mix the sugar, spices, salt, vanilla, and eggs.
slowly add the heated milk, stirring constantly (unless you like sugary spiced scrambled eggs)
pour mixture into ramekins. Place ramekins into large baking dish. Pour boiling water into baking dish until water comes halfway up the sides of ramekins. Place the baking dish at center of the oven.
Bake 25 -- 30 minutes.
* Smokers and those who drink coffee will probably want to up the spices as taste buds might have become dull due to aforementioned smoking.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Shut up and skate.
When I was young (a long time ago) before the X Games, kids would skate pools and sidewalks and public works of art (you know steel sculptures) and there would invariably be some d.bag who owned an expensive baord and blabbed about his skills but he couldn't skate for shit. As anyone who's ever been in any sort of BS session knows there's only so much time to run your mouth and then it's time to show everyone the skills that you have (or haven't) got.
Right now I'm telling myself to shut up and skate. (& BTW I love when I get tough on myself. It's a hobby of mine.)
For a long time I've been writing here and there. But I treated my writing like a hobby. I'm also impossibly annoying in many ways but in the is way in particular, I don't really care about being published. I've written for myself.
And then something happened.
I went and farmed. And you wouldn't think that farming would lead to novel writing but in my case, it did. I went to farm because I thought that the food system in this country was broken and I wanted to do my part to fix it. Owning and operating an organic market garden seemed like the best contribution I could make. (I will not get into the entire farm experience here...that used to be a blog of its own.) Suffice to say when I was done farming -- had accumulated a lot of devoted farmer's market customers, extremely happy CSA customers, and had eaten the best effing organic vegetables in my entire life; after all that I realized there's only one thing I'm any good at -- writing.
I bring all this up because November is National Novel Writing Month. When I heard about this I thought, "I wonder what James Joyce would think if this. Didn't he need 11 years to write Ulysses?"
And as far as putting my money where my mouth is: I'm going to be putting the finishing touches on a novel in the month of November. (Nice coincidence that.) As you've probably guessed I wouldn't write a novel in a month (6 weeks maybe) but it's taken decades for me to even speak publicly about my writing and to bother finishing a book. And I've decided to apply to grad school. Whether or not I get in is another story but I'm taking a Zen approach. I'll be accepted into a program if that's right for me. I've reached a time in my life where I'm no longer interested in forcing anything.
& I kind of wish November would hurry up and get here already so I can jump into the Novel Writing Madness.
Time for a couple of Mctwists, a stale fish or two, and I'm definitely going fakey.
Right now I'm telling myself to shut up and skate. (& BTW I love when I get tough on myself. It's a hobby of mine.)
For a long time I've been writing here and there. But I treated my writing like a hobby. I'm also impossibly annoying in many ways but in the is way in particular, I don't really care about being published. I've written for myself.
And then something happened.
I went and farmed. And you wouldn't think that farming would lead to novel writing but in my case, it did. I went to farm because I thought that the food system in this country was broken and I wanted to do my part to fix it. Owning and operating an organic market garden seemed like the best contribution I could make. (I will not get into the entire farm experience here...that used to be a blog of its own.) Suffice to say when I was done farming -- had accumulated a lot of devoted farmer's market customers, extremely happy CSA customers, and had eaten the best effing organic vegetables in my entire life; after all that I realized there's only one thing I'm any good at -- writing.
I bring all this up because November is National Novel Writing Month. When I heard about this I thought, "I wonder what James Joyce would think if this. Didn't he need 11 years to write Ulysses?"
And as far as putting my money where my mouth is: I'm going to be putting the finishing touches on a novel in the month of November. (Nice coincidence that.) As you've probably guessed I wouldn't write a novel in a month (6 weeks maybe) but it's taken decades for me to even speak publicly about my writing and to bother finishing a book. And I've decided to apply to grad school. Whether or not I get in is another story but I'm taking a Zen approach. I'll be accepted into a program if that's right for me. I've reached a time in my life where I'm no longer interested in forcing anything.
& I kind of wish November would hurry up and get here already so I can jump into the Novel Writing Madness.
Time for a couple of Mctwists, a stale fish or two, and I'm definitely going fakey.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
f*ck fixer-uppers
Driving along country roads I used to see old buildings (houses, barns, what have you) and I'd think, "Wouldn't it be cool to fix that place up?"
Then a couple of years ago I met C and started helping her fix up her place. Now, if you're the sort of person who has a ton of money and will write checks to contractors and watch as other people do the fixing up, cool.
However, should you live with slightly more modest means and be the one who is doing the fixing-up, you are looking at years of sweat equity. And no matter how finely honed your DIY skills are you are going to sink a serious chunk of change into home improvements.
Shacks and old barns and houses that have been neglected for many years look cool in photos. "Before" and "After" scenarios can give one a sense of accomplishment. Or you can join me in abandoning the romantic notion of fixing up a much-neglected house and just go ahead and treat yourself to a house that's been well-cared for. In the mountains. Near a lake. Or a river. Or by the shore. Whatever suits your fancy.
After visiting Lake Arrowhead I've decided I'm down for something like the "cabin" pictured above.
It ain't off the grid but that's just another one of my romantic notions. Funny thing is -- my off-the-grid cabin just might come into being one of these days...
Then a couple of years ago I met C and started helping her fix up her place. Now, if you're the sort of person who has a ton of money and will write checks to contractors and watch as other people do the fixing up, cool.
However, should you live with slightly more modest means and be the one who is doing the fixing-up, you are looking at years of sweat equity. And no matter how finely honed your DIY skills are you are going to sink a serious chunk of change into home improvements.
Shacks and old barns and houses that have been neglected for many years look cool in photos. "Before" and "After" scenarios can give one a sense of accomplishment. Or you can join me in abandoning the romantic notion of fixing up a much-neglected house and just go ahead and treat yourself to a house that's been well-cared for. In the mountains. Near a lake. Or a river. Or by the shore. Whatever suits your fancy.
After visiting Lake Arrowhead I've decided I'm down for something like the "cabin" pictured above.
It ain't off the grid but that's just another one of my romantic notions. Funny thing is -- my off-the-grid cabin just might come into being one of these days...
most excellent
When visiting friends in Los Angeles you might be lucky enough to harvest fresh oranges from the frontyard.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Barring an unfortunate event I'm posed to live to be 110 years old, at least.
Read this.
I have more than 1 relative who lived past 90. Paternal great-grandmother lived to 99 years old. Maternal great-grandmother lived to 91. Paternal great-uncle lived to 95 (actually I think he's still living and might be 97?) Maternal grandmother still living, age 90.
If the following is a harbinger of things to come, I'm living to 250 years old...
"According to one study, survivors of traumatic life events learn to cope better with stress and poverty and are more likely to live to 100."
- traumatic life experienes. Check.
- stress. Check
- poverty. Check.
- figured out how to cope with the three aforementioned obstacles. Check.
- more likely to live to 100. Yet to be seen.
And if I die early please let it be the result of traveling at a high rate of speed while driving a high performance automobile on a country road (preferably an autumn day with no rain on the roads) and then I make contact with a tree. Smack. Game over. I'd like a succinct, dramatic exit. No dying peacefully in my sleep. Nope.
I have more than 1 relative who lived past 90. Paternal great-grandmother lived to 99 years old. Maternal great-grandmother lived to 91. Paternal great-uncle lived to 95 (actually I think he's still living and might be 97?) Maternal grandmother still living, age 90.
If the following is a harbinger of things to come, I'm living to 250 years old...
"According to one study, survivors of traumatic life events learn to cope better with stress and poverty and are more likely to live to 100."
- traumatic life experienes. Check.
- stress. Check
- poverty. Check.
- figured out how to cope with the three aforementioned obstacles. Check.
- more likely to live to 100. Yet to be seen.
And if I die early please let it be the result of traveling at a high rate of speed while driving a high performance automobile on a country road (preferably an autumn day with no rain on the roads) and then I make contact with a tree. Smack. Game over. I'd like a succinct, dramatic exit. No dying peacefully in my sleep. Nope.
Monday, October 18, 2010
mind wander 10/17/10
I won’t get into the whys and wherefores of the wanderings of my mind. But I will say this -- it do wander.
Last night as I was in the first leg of the car ride home (when C does the driving and I can relax for a little bit) I was doing what I always do, letting my mind drift.
I’d had a disturbing dream on Saturday night about women and unprotected sex and my mind picked up the thread there. I began to contemplate women having unprotected sex even though they might be on the pill. I won’t disparage the Pill right now, but if you’re on it you might want to look into research on the long term effects.
And you might want to consider the consequences of unprotected sex with male partners if you are not married to them. Yes, I said married. And I’m not becoming more conservative in my old age, I’m actually just worried for my single straight female friends that they may be doing serious damage to their bodies having unprotected sex on the pill.
In any event. I was mulling over the consequences of HPV. And then my mind shifted into wondering about men who have unprotected sex with men and are exposed to HPV. Next I wondered if HPV (male to male) transmission put men who are exposed to HPV at a greater risk of HIV infection.
Turns out I’m not the only one who has been pondering this. Read here.
If nothing else, I guess I was right, male to male transmissions of HPV does appear to put men at a greater risk for contracting HIV.
If there’s good news here, it’s this: you can protect yourself. Use a condom.
And unless you’re married -- or in the case of homosexuals who can’t officially say “I do,” in a church or temple, then please be sharing a mortgage, car payments, and the care of pets and/or your children – please please please don’t rely on the pill to protect you from serious diseases. (And just so I'm clear, I am not suggesting that marriage will protect anyone from disease, it's just that in a marriage there's probably less exposure to disease from your mate and should either of you become gravely ill hopefully your mate will stick around to nurse you back to health.) And to prove that I’m not being old fashioned, for anyone who wants to have sex with multiple partners, go for it, just please protect yourself.
The one thing I’ve noticed in just about everyone I’ve ever known (myself included) is what I’ll call “generalized soul-myopia.” And by that I mean people rarely seem to take into consideration the consequences that today’s choices will have on life way on down the road.
The best way to remedy that: look at old people. I’m not kidding. I’ve been scrutinizing old people for years and when I see something I like (Damn she looks great for 75) I try to find out how the person lived and then I emulate that.
I feel I could get into a serious ramble here but I won’t. Instead I’ll ask that you consider taking your self-respect to the next level.
Last night as I was in the first leg of the car ride home (when C does the driving and I can relax for a little bit) I was doing what I always do, letting my mind drift.
I’d had a disturbing dream on Saturday night about women and unprotected sex and my mind picked up the thread there. I began to contemplate women having unprotected sex even though they might be on the pill. I won’t disparage the Pill right now, but if you’re on it you might want to look into research on the long term effects.
And you might want to consider the consequences of unprotected sex with male partners if you are not married to them. Yes, I said married. And I’m not becoming more conservative in my old age, I’m actually just worried for my single straight female friends that they may be doing serious damage to their bodies having unprotected sex on the pill.
In any event. I was mulling over the consequences of HPV. And then my mind shifted into wondering about men who have unprotected sex with men and are exposed to HPV. Next I wondered if HPV (male to male) transmission put men who are exposed to HPV at a greater risk of HIV infection.
Turns out I’m not the only one who has been pondering this. Read here.
If nothing else, I guess I was right, male to male transmissions of HPV does appear to put men at a greater risk for contracting HIV.
If there’s good news here, it’s this: you can protect yourself. Use a condom.
And unless you’re married -- or in the case of homosexuals who can’t officially say “I do,” in a church or temple, then please be sharing a mortgage, car payments, and the care of pets and/or your children – please please please don’t rely on the pill to protect you from serious diseases. (And just so I'm clear, I am not suggesting that marriage will protect anyone from disease, it's just that in a marriage there's probably less exposure to disease from your mate and should either of you become gravely ill hopefully your mate will stick around to nurse you back to health.) And to prove that I’m not being old fashioned, for anyone who wants to have sex with multiple partners, go for it, just please protect yourself.
The one thing I’ve noticed in just about everyone I’ve ever known (myself included) is what I’ll call “generalized soul-myopia.” And by that I mean people rarely seem to take into consideration the consequences that today’s choices will have on life way on down the road.
The best way to remedy that: look at old people. I’m not kidding. I’ve been scrutinizing old people for years and when I see something I like (Damn she looks great for 75) I try to find out how the person lived and then I emulate that.
I feel I could get into a serious ramble here but I won’t. Instead I’ll ask that you consider taking your self-respect to the next level.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Fake it til you make it
This morning as I was about to disembark from the downtown #1 train at 23rd street, I see a young man (in his late 20s) with long blond hair and a long blond beard crawling under the turnstile.
And it must have been his first time cause he kinda got stuck and then flushed pink. I looked at him and noted that he was wearing designer jeans, designer sneakers, and a nice sweater.
Conclusion: his days in Manhattan are numbered.
And it must have been his first time cause he kinda got stuck and then flushed pink. I looked at him and noted that he was wearing designer jeans, designer sneakers, and a nice sweater.
Conclusion: his days in Manhattan are numbered.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Ouch!
After a couple of weeks of eating what I'll call road-food I've decided to detox.
It's not like I was eating horrible food to begin with. The food at Menla -- delicious and carefully pepared. The food this past weekend -- average Amrican fare. Scrambled eggs, pancakes, french toast, turkey on whole wheat. Nothing that's gonna kill anyone but a far cry from the diet I've tailored for myself which is gluten free, vegetarian, and includes a whole lotta eggs.
So the guidelines for this week are as follows --
NO
-- wheat
-- meat
-- eggs
-- refined sugar
and right now it's nothing but pain.
When I factor in that my brain is undergoing a serious recalibration from all the Healing Touch over the weekend, let's just say I'm ready to curl up into a little tiny ball and sleep this one off.
No such luck. Life awaits.
Did you know that when Marianne Williamson asked us: "What would you change about your life if you were living without the fear of death?" Some of the people in the workshop replied, "Nothing."
It made me wonder if those people had never grieved. Come on. Think about it, if you were living without the fear of death (which really means the fear of dying) you'd be living the most ballsiest, daring, loving, caring life possible. And not to knock the folks who wouldn't change a thing, great, don't change a thing. But for those of us who are still in the midst of trying to determine our relationship to death, lose the flotsam and jetsam, dream big, don't settle. Give up the trite.
If you can honestly day that tomorrow you'd go to your maker with no regrets -- Congratulations. For everyone else, get back to work on yourselves today.
You're facing several situations:
1. You become sick and you are actively dying and you know it and time is running out.
2. You die suddenly.
3. You live a large life like you mean it.
I can't find the logic in waiting -- if you haven't contemplated scenarios 1 & 2 then you won't make it to scenario 3. (Unless of course you're an infant or a young child who has not yet become aware of the power that the knowledge of mortality will lord over you -- usually that knowledge gets twisted into fear.)
So I'll ask you to give up all the conventional wisdom that you hold so preciously dear and ask you to dare yourself to live a bold life. Trust me, it'll be a life that's a whole lot more interesting to live.
It's not like I was eating horrible food to begin with. The food at Menla -- delicious and carefully pepared. The food this past weekend -- average Amrican fare. Scrambled eggs, pancakes, french toast, turkey on whole wheat. Nothing that's gonna kill anyone but a far cry from the diet I've tailored for myself which is gluten free, vegetarian, and includes a whole lotta eggs.
So the guidelines for this week are as follows --
NO
-- wheat
-- meat
-- eggs
-- refined sugar
and right now it's nothing but pain.
When I factor in that my brain is undergoing a serious recalibration from all the Healing Touch over the weekend, let's just say I'm ready to curl up into a little tiny ball and sleep this one off.
No such luck. Life awaits.
Did you know that when Marianne Williamson asked us: "What would you change about your life if you were living without the fear of death?" Some of the people in the workshop replied, "Nothing."
It made me wonder if those people had never grieved. Come on. Think about it, if you were living without the fear of death (which really means the fear of dying) you'd be living the most ballsiest, daring, loving, caring life possible. And not to knock the folks who wouldn't change a thing, great, don't change a thing. But for those of us who are still in the midst of trying to determine our relationship to death, lose the flotsam and jetsam, dream big, don't settle. Give up the trite.
If you can honestly day that tomorrow you'd go to your maker with no regrets -- Congratulations. For everyone else, get back to work on yourselves today.
You're facing several situations:
1. You become sick and you are actively dying and you know it and time is running out.
2. You die suddenly.
3. You live a large life like you mean it.
I can't find the logic in waiting -- if you haven't contemplated scenarios 1 & 2 then you won't make it to scenario 3. (Unless of course you're an infant or a young child who has not yet become aware of the power that the knowledge of mortality will lord over you -- usually that knowledge gets twisted into fear.)
So I'll ask you to give up all the conventional wisdom that you hold so preciously dear and ask you to dare yourself to live a bold life. Trust me, it'll be a life that's a whole lot more interesting to live.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Healing Touch, here I come.
This weekend I will find myself in Upstate New York once again. This time I'm taking the Level 1 Healing Touch class.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Time to make cookies while contemplating my own deep nature.
At the beginning of last week I'd never heard of Frank Ostaseski. I had heard of the Zen Hospice (in San Francisco) but as I tend to live most of my life on the East Coast I can be a bit blind to what's going on on the Other Coast. When I was contemplating the Art of Dying IV it began to dawn on me that Frank was flying across the country to lead a day-long institute so perhaps I could drag my lazy bones out of bed a little earlier than planned and drive to Menla. Of course I did not leave my Zen Mind (Begginner's Mind) behind.
I arrived at Menla around 9:30 a.m. and much to my horrror found Phoenicia underwater and a state of emergency having been declared. The normally bucolic rivers and streams had completely overrun their banks. The waters rushed in a torrent and there's the sound of a flood and if you've heard a flood you know what I mean. A babbling brook's babble gets turned up beyond 10 and it sounds like a wall of white noise. In hearing this I was reminded that Mother Nature can give us the beatdown whenever she feels like it and we can take measures to protect life and limb and salvage property afterwards.
As I pulled into Menla I wondered how much the weather would affect the travel plans of everyone else who was planning on attending. In the end everyone, save Joanne who had died a week earlier of ovarian cancer, made it to the conference.
Friday at 10 a.m. I took my groggy self (I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination) and headed to the conference center. Here I met Frank. It will be old age and senility that drive from my memory the first day spent with Frank. Yup. It was that cool (for me). I'm sure a lot of folks were feeling him in there own way but it was my time and I was ready to listen and hear and synthesize Frank.
Today I emailed him asking permission to post the 5 Precepts to my blog and he asked that I not do that so that his words are not taken out of context and misused. (But it's okay for me to give a photo copy to my closest friends. You've all been forewarned -- the precepts are on their way to you...)
And there are plenty of books and lectures on tape out there for anyone who is interested in becoming a Zen scholar. I'm not here to flog the Zen horse.
But -- I am going to leave you with things that Frank said that resonated with me. If they do something for you, great. If not, please leave this blog and get to the things that matter.
"No contact with suffering -- not much compassion."
"Our relationship to our own deep nature can illuminate the darkness."
"Compassion has a fierceness to it."
"Compassion wants to snuggle up to pain."
"This is intimate work. You cannot do this work from afar."
"I find a great meeting place with others in my suffering."
"I have confidence in my suffering -- let me be with my suffering."
Kind of pithy and annoying on the one hand, kind of instructive and helpful if you're ready for it.
And now I'm off to bake cookies. It's finally cold and gray and rainy (like October should be -- yay!) and the kitchen is once again the place where warmth and the yumminess of baking belongs.
I arrived at Menla around 9:30 a.m. and much to my horrror found Phoenicia underwater and a state of emergency having been declared. The normally bucolic rivers and streams had completely overrun their banks. The waters rushed in a torrent and there's the sound of a flood and if you've heard a flood you know what I mean. A babbling brook's babble gets turned up beyond 10 and it sounds like a wall of white noise. In hearing this I was reminded that Mother Nature can give us the beatdown whenever she feels like it and we can take measures to protect life and limb and salvage property afterwards.
As I pulled into Menla I wondered how much the weather would affect the travel plans of everyone else who was planning on attending. In the end everyone, save Joanne who had died a week earlier of ovarian cancer, made it to the conference.
Friday at 10 a.m. I took my groggy self (I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination) and headed to the conference center. Here I met Frank. It will be old age and senility that drive from my memory the first day spent with Frank. Yup. It was that cool (for me). I'm sure a lot of folks were feeling him in there own way but it was my time and I was ready to listen and hear and synthesize Frank.
Today I emailed him asking permission to post the 5 Precepts to my blog and he asked that I not do that so that his words are not taken out of context and misused. (But it's okay for me to give a photo copy to my closest friends. You've all been forewarned -- the precepts are on their way to you...)
And there are plenty of books and lectures on tape out there for anyone who is interested in becoming a Zen scholar. I'm not here to flog the Zen horse.
But -- I am going to leave you with things that Frank said that resonated with me. If they do something for you, great. If not, please leave this blog and get to the things that matter.
"No contact with suffering -- not much compassion."
"Our relationship to our own deep nature can illuminate the darkness."
"Compassion has a fierceness to it."
"Compassion wants to snuggle up to pain."
"This is intimate work. You cannot do this work from afar."
"I find a great meeting place with others in my suffering."
"I have confidence in my suffering -- let me be with my suffering."
Kind of pithy and annoying on the one hand, kind of instructive and helpful if you're ready for it.
And now I'm off to bake cookies. It's finally cold and gray and rainy (like October should be -- yay!) and the kitchen is once again the place where warmth and the yumminess of baking belongs.
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