Showing posts with label Cookery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cookery. Show all posts
Thursday, December 22, 2016
Saturday, November 26, 2016
Post-Thanksgiving
FIL and step-MIL came to visit the day after Thanksgiving and rather than feed them T-day leftovers as I did last year, I made ramen (with really nice broth, loads of fresh veggies, and lots of add-in toppings: peanut sauce, kimchi, roast chicken, fried eggs).
At the end of the meal, step-MIL says, "thanks for dinner.. it was really simple and..." And she just trails off. Healthful? Flavorful? No. Nothing. I don't think she was trying to diss my food, it was more like she genuinely lost interest in completing that sentence.
This morning--being back in the kitchen reminded me--and I started to giggle about it and had to explain to the kids why. At says, "Yeah, I noticed that too." So we giggled some more.
And it's been our response of choice to everything..."It's really simple and..."
_
At the end of the meal, step-MIL says, "thanks for dinner.. it was really simple and..." And she just trails off. Healthful? Flavorful? No. Nothing. I don't think she was trying to diss my food, it was more like she genuinely lost interest in completing that sentence.
This morning--being back in the kitchen reminded me--and I started to giggle about it and had to explain to the kids why. At says, "Yeah, I noticed that too." So we giggled some more.
And it's been our response of choice to everything..."It's really simple and..."
_
Monday, April 04, 2016
Après le diner
It's not much, really.
But, I can tell
our week's dinner
from the small aches
the burns and scalds,
and nicks they wrought.
But it is the half-eaten plate
that brings heartache.
_
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
Après le diner
It's nothing, really.
But, I can tell
But, I can tell
our week's dinner
from the small aches
the burns and scalds,
and nicks they wrought.
It is the half-eaten plate
that brings heartache
*
Saturday, January 02, 2016
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Thursday, November 26, 2015
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Nu-Sensical
Nu hasn't eaten her lunch--a wedge of Tortilla Española from dinner the day before.
Because: "You didn't pack me a fork!"
But: "I ate everything else! Even the sour cream for the tortilla. Although it wouldn't come out and I had to use my fingers."
It's a good thing then that FB sent me a great memory yesterday.
_
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
One Stew to Carry it all and Cure Us
At's sick… he wanted...
something hot and soothing for dinner.
Behold our soup
with every ingredient known to help colds:
Chicken, mackerel,
ginger root, garlic, tomatoes,
cabbage, broccoli,
black pepper, turmeric,
mint and jalapeños,
sprinkles of salt
Then a bit of limon and C's salsa
from the summer of 2014 for heat.
It's delicious and magical.
__
Monday, March 02, 2015
Compense
Wrestling an ocean of sky
the lyrics of whited valleys,
I crave the salt of the wind
the taste of words whipped
with sea air (hold the snow).
This land calls me by all names
But holds itself cold and aloof
hushing with remembered formality
calculations, welcomes, and reunions.
_
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Eat your Bath!
I made Bisibele bhath for dinner.
And Nu thought it was hilarious
saying stuff like:
"This bath is delicious!"
"I've eaten all my bath!"
You get it.
And Nu thought it was hilarious
saying stuff like:
"This bath is delicious!"
"I've eaten all my bath!"
You get it.
Monday, September 09, 2013
NuNu Love
7:30. After I packed everyone's lunches,
I rushed to get changed for school.
In the time it took me to change,
she slipped her smiley "I heart you"
into my lunchbox.
When I got home at 4:30, she grabbed me
asking, "Did you find it? Did you see it?"
She said she kept giggling at school
thinking about that note to me.
Me too.
_
Wednesday, September 04, 2013
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Misspeak
Stew
a head
ofcabbage garbage
in-certitude
curtained disdain.
Yellow is gold
is lemons
yellow is pages
is journalism
is cold Englishman's lyric
she says
planes, and trains
--not kind to my migraines
it rhymes, write the poem
I say
elastic-electric
forced
forged faked
shudderin' end
ex-tension
_
a head
of
in-certitude
curtained disdain.
Yellow is gold
is lemons
yellow is pages
is journalism
is cold Englishman's lyric
she says
planes, and trains
--not kind to my migraines
it rhymes, write the poem
I say
elastic-electric
forced
shudderin' end
ex-tension
_
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Once, twice
Your place is inside someone.
the closing of their heart
a landscape scaled to story
what if you knew everything
About why my sister looks like
my sister, the slap of silence;
the beating that is the phone ringing
The lament of memory in all
the half-remembered childhoods
what if those habits are only errands
dead from scorn; like butter asking
to be left out, sleepy in the sunlight
_
the closing of their heart
a landscape scaled to story
what if you knew everything
About why my sister looks like
my sister, the slap of silence;
the beating that is the phone ringing
The lament of memory in all
the half-remembered childhoods
what if those habits are only errands
dead from scorn; like butter asking
to be left out, sleepy in the sunlight
_
Sunday, April 08, 2012
Sunday, October 02, 2011
Project
All morning, the kids and I walked around town putting up posters for Ubuntu Canteen.
A day perfect in so many ways.
A day perfect in so many ways.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Somebody
hide behind a plate of food
Athena, Medea, Cambodia
and spiteful
walk crippled and curved
rainbows, Bowflex, Botox
and spatial
big pans of market moons
orbit unobstructed, doubled
in riddle
Athena, Medea, Cambodia
and spiteful
walk crippled and curved
rainbows, Bowflex, Botox
and spatial
big pans of market moons
orbit unobstructed, doubled
in riddle
Sunday, September 11, 2011
One minute of rant; one moment of funny
So... not a good couple of days. I think I may need more help than sympathetic ears and on-tap multi-generational snuggles. Can't really talk about it because (a) I already growled at my parents when they insisted that I tell them (b) mostly I don't know.
I do have a very strong feeling that my squeaky vocal delivery and my default-setting smiles are interfering with everyone's ability to take my weltschmerzen seriously. That and the suspicion that everyone has fallen for my protestations: Really, you guys! Really! Cooking and cleaning up after and chauffeuring and entertaining a family of six while prepping and teaching and grading three courses (90 students; at least twenty seem to e-mail me every day) is nothing. Really, it's easy!
The teaching and a houseful of family IS fun and I'm sincere about being grateful to be able to do it. Then also, feels like there is something I could/should do to care for myself--but I don't know what. Therapy? A drug regimen? More than six hours of sleep? Not caring if the house looks ready for the photo team from Architectural Digest every fucking minute? That the kids get assigned and balanced calories at every meal? What?
________________________________________
We're listening to the radio stories about 9/11 with tight throats and goosebumps. Amma breaks the spell with an earnest warning that none of us should go downtown today. Ourdowntown = < 3500 people. Any terrorist coming for us would have to be lost. Or a total underachiever.
_
I do have a very strong feeling that my squeaky vocal delivery and my default-setting smiles are interfering with everyone's ability to take my weltschmerzen seriously. That and the suspicion that everyone has fallen for my protestations: Really, you guys! Really! Cooking and cleaning up after and chauffeuring and entertaining a family of six while prepping and teaching and grading three courses (90 students; at least twenty seem to e-mail me every day) is nothing. Really, it's easy!
The teaching and a houseful of family IS fun and I'm sincere about being grateful to be able to do it. Then also, feels like there is something I could/should do to care for myself--but I don't know what. Therapy? A drug regimen? More than six hours of sleep? Not caring if the house looks ready for the photo team from Architectural Digest every fucking minute? That the kids get assigned and balanced calories at every meal? What?
________________________________________
We're listening to the radio stories about 9/11 with tight throats and goosebumps. Amma breaks the spell with an earnest warning that none of us should go downtown today. Our
_
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