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Mugs Galore

2/15/2021

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A while ago I decided to refresh our kitchen by switching to a simple, classic white for plates and bowls, and decided for mugs only white and black, or a combination of both, were acceptable. I found these funky boho super-sized ones, in white with artistic graphics in black and different encouraging quotes on them: “Live the life you imagine” on the inner edge of the cup so it can hypnotize you with its message all the way to where it hits you in the forehead when you sip that last bit. A mermaid in swirling waves wraps around the outside, seductive and free. It’s whimsical, a comfort, a joy.
 
But before I could start living the life I imagined for my housewares, I had to get to the business of decluttering the existing shelves, shedding multiple surplus mugs that have accumulated over the years. You know, the ones that we never use because we have our favorites? The ones from that bowling tournament fundraiser where it was Halloween and we were the only ones to dress up and we didn’t bowl so great, but our Mardi Gras costumes with paper mâché masks we made complete with indigo and green seaweed color dreads of waxed grass were the talk of the alley! A good memory, but who needs the name of a bank you don't even use on the side of a mug? The one that someone gave me as a gift because they thought it was “So you!!!” and I agreed, with false (only to me, I'm sure) enthusiasm, and later every time I would see it shoved back there on the Infinite Shelf of Mugs, I’d cringe a bit, and was filled with a mix of horror and fascination that this mug was how they saw me. 
 
Or the Guilt Mug picked up randomly at the gift shop in the airport before a friend or relative got on the plane to come home from their vacation, where they had nothing to do but complain of sunscreen in a half-hearted dreamy voice, soothed by gently lapping waves on the beach they were sitting on, cold umbrella drink perspiring against their naked thigh, coconut rum on their breath. Passing the gift shop they remember you for the first time in a week, pale-faced you, back in the cold and dreary city you both live in, and to ease the guilt their tanned hand picks up a mug with classic multi-pics of popular tourist spots all crooked and ‘randomly’ arranged in an artistic, pleasing visual way, dancing around the outside, the name of whichever warm, wonderful place they were outlined in thick yellow. Like, thanks for this mug of somewhere I’ve never been! You know the one.
 
But there are a few mugs I didn’t get rid of. The white porcelain one painted with denim-blue flowers that a friend had delivered with violets in it 24 years ago. It was given as a ‘get well’ gift when I was recovering from a surgery, a significant, painful loss, and Joe was too sick to pick me up from the hospital. We sat around for days huddled together on the love seat, and one of Joe’s brothers set us up with a tv, which we didn’t own at the time, and we binged on Mr. Bean, as the mug-o-violets sat silent and pretty on the windowsill in the kitchen. And the handle-less Japanese mugs that are clay colored with squiggles and Kanji in indigo (that seems pretty Zen, but how do I know? For all I know it might say “I like my tea the way I like my women: green and weak.” and the joke's on me). But they’re perfect for wrapping chilly hands around, and the best for a crackers and milk snack like my paternal grandfather used to make to help me go to sleep. And the thick, heavy coffee cup that my dad made for the whole family, personalized with each of our names, that proudly displayed his Naval Intelligence division logo which he designed, when we lived in Japan. He worked in a vault at the top of an impressive three-story ivy-covered brick building across from the main gate at the base, and up a steep hill, overlooking all. (The building overlooked – not my dad in the vault. Dad in a Vault; get yours today!) We would go up the grand, wide staircase to the third floor, and tentatively poke the buzzer and someone would open the inner door to the space between, close it behind them, then slide back a peephole slot on the outer door to see who was there. Those ones and a few choice others remain on the hard-to-reach shelf, because: sentiment. Sentiment galore.

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But the thing is, you don’t have to put all the mugs together in a mishmash on your shelves. You don’t have to use them just for beverages. Plant some flowers in them, use them to brighten up your office area with pens, like the one pictured above I just bought from my friend Kitty’s business Nothing New. (She’s clever, talented, creative and fun. Check her out.) Use a mug to store bathroom items like cotton swabs, make up, ointments, whatever. I have a big Mini Cooper mug that the dealer gave us when we bought our car almost 10 years ago filled with string cheese in the fridge. I challenge you to think of creative ways to use those Mugs of Sentiment! Spread that love around.
 
What’s in my mermaid mug right now? White Thistle tea, which is quite mild, though pleasant. It’s supposed to be good for livers. Though a minute ago I caught myself wondering what a little liqueur would do to spice things up. It’s all about balance.

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Stormy Day Opera at Snuggledown

2/5/2021

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Last week the cat was not amused by my operatic alto (sometimes sliding into soprano, sometimes a gravely bass) recounting of our stormy day as it progressed:

“Ohhhh!! Django, Djangooooooh! Why are your earrrrrrrs back?!?!?! Your eyezzzzzz are wide and greeeeeeeeeen!!!!!”   

“It’s cold and windy. kindascary  It’s cold and windy. kindascary” [soft and low, warning of potential excitement.] 

Django meows. Heads out the door, turning his head to look at me. Stares. Meows. Stares.

“Pleeeeeeeezzooooohpleeeeeeeeezzzooooohvstay inside or go owwwwwwwwwwwwwT!!!!!!”  (This is obviously a Big-Exclamation Moment in the opera.)

“Please find the moh-llllllluh! Please find the moh-lllllllllluh! Please findthe, please findthe, findthefindthefindthe  MOLE!!”

Brava! Brava, Lady and Mistress of Snuggledown! Brava!

(Please note that no violence was meant to be implied or condoned in this opera.) 

I exit off stage, where you see me outside placing the long stick Django and I play games with, upright in a freshly-dug pile of dirt. The circle of light broadens so the audience slowly sees I am surrounded by similar piles of dirt. As far as the eye can see.

Intermission includes a brief encounter with Good Lady Snuggledown vs Bad Lady Snuggledown debating what to eat for a snack: make some kale chips, or a sweet treat of basically the unbaked version of the streusel topping on a muffin, which is really the same as kale chips nutritionally, because of the oatmeal. 

Scene II: Let’s Water the Plants!!! 

Cut, as I realize it’s only Tuesday, not Thirsty Thursday, the day I actually water the plants. 

Scene II, Rev.: Let’s Multitask!! 

I remember I was supposed to taste-test the red kraut I’ve been fermenting in the pantry, so decide to make that my snack. It’s delish! I poke a salad fork into the fragrant jar, nod my head and grin, spin into a wild, passionate Fork Dance. During the last spin, the wide hem of my yoga pants flaring out, it is revealed that Bad Lady Snuggledown is really……
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Excitable Veg

2/5/2021

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A few weeks ago I joined a cookbook author interview on Zoom through my favorite local All Things Cooking bookstore in the Seattle area, The Book Larder. I have loved this place for years. In the Before Times I attended author readings, taken cooking classes around their huge kitchen island, went to a decadent candle-light Secret Supper with Joe and 10 others after hours, I’ve browsed the small, sunny space in a happy daze, fondling the hardcovers glowing with stories, inspiration and potential delicious food for my belly. 
 
The author was Alissa Timoshkina, and she talked from London about her new cookbook, Salt and Time, a beautiful book with crisp pictures of her homeland Siberia, and traditional recipes from the region, as well as those with her own modern twist. It was dreamy. So, I bought it, with a gift card no less! I was intrigued by the borsch (no ‘t’ at the end for her version), but had to make some red sauerkraut beforehand. It was a great way to get some pent-up existential angst out of my system. 

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​Red Sauerkraut with Garlic & Chili
-from Salt & Time,  by Alissa Timoshkina

(Footnotes by me)
 
Makes a quart-sized (1 liter) jar




​
 
1 red cabbage, core removed
Salt (the desired ratio is 1 tablespoon for every 2 ¼ lb cabbage, so the exact amount depends on the weight of your cabbage)
2-4 large garlic cloves, grated (I increased garlic from her suggested 2 cloves, because I always do)
2 teaspoons red pepper flakes, or 1 small Habanero pepper, finely chopped 
 
Before you do anything put on some food gloves!*
 
Thinly slice the cabbage into long strips, preferably on a mandolin or using a food processor.  Place in a large mixing bowl, add the salt, and massage it into the cabbage quite aggressively for about 5 minutes.** This process is quite physically demanding and oddly therapeutic at the same time. You know the cabbage has surrendered when lots of juice comes out and the flesh becomes very soft, yet still crunchy.*** Add the garlic and chili pepper, and massage for another minute. 
 
Pack the cabbage tightly into a sterilized quart-size preserving jar (putting it through a hot dishwasher should do the job) **** in layers, making sure there are no air bubbles or gaps as you pack down each layer; you can use a special wooden tamper for fermentation or simply use your fist to do this. Continue until the jar is almost full and the cabbage is submerged in its own juice. Weigh it down with a glass ramekin. Make sure you leave a 2-inch (5 cm) gap at the top or the jar will overflow once the process of fermentation begins.
 
Close the jar tightly and set aside out of direct sunlight at room temperature for 10-14 days so the salt and time can do their magic (naturally, things ferment a lot faster in the summer).***** It’s best to stand the jar inside a bowl in case of spillage. Make sure to check it every day, opening the jar to let the cabbage “burp” or release its gases, and pressing the cabbage down into the brine.******
 
Taste the cabbage after 10 days and leave to ferment for longer if needed.  Once you are happy with the taste, transfer the jar to the refrigerator to slow down the fermentation process. It will keep in the fridge for up to 6 months.
 
 
Notes from Shorelandia:
 
*Pay attention to this, the author uses an exclamation point for a reason: put on some food gloves! Then make a clean-room, like Dexter. Only you’re not going to kill anything, in fact you're practically a necromancer! Listen to this after 5 minutes of aggressive love – It’s alive!***
 
**Try to contain your production area to one space, or you’ll find little bits of red cabbage all over your kitchen, leaving behind a kiss of blue-purple. And why isn’t it called purple cabbage? It’s not red at all! I wonder if I could cut a shape out of the cabbage, like a star, and leave it on my forearm to make a temporary tattoo...

***Sound up! 

**** I don’t care how organized you are in your kitchen, there are never enough jars. Make sure you have one before you start. I weighed my cabbage out and  her suggested 2 ¼-lb. weight was about perfect for a quart-sized jar. And our dishwasher is on the fritz, so a hot soapy wash followed by a kettle of boiling water gently dumped into the jar did the trick for me. Hot water is your friend. Always.
 
*****Then clean your kitchen if you didn’t manage to contain the cabbage in your workspace like I suggested earlier. I fear I’m going to be finding dried bits of purple for years to come, unexpectedly. Like the bits of shining greenish-blue tinsel from the sexy mermaid’s tail we kept finding for about a dozen years after she attended one of our first Halloween parties. 
 
******Don’t forget to burp! If you are self-aware enough to know you’ll forget, leave the jar in a place you’ll see it daily, leave Post-Its to remind yourself to “Burp the kraut!” because it’s funny. Whatever you do, burp that baby! And Alissa is not kidding about setting the jar in a bowl. It’s an excitable boy. 
 
PS:
Possible future cookbook title: “Fermentation: It’s Not What You Stink it Is”
 
 
 
 
 

 
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    Hi, I'm Lori, a lover of feeding people. Be it with words, whimsy, or some tasty food, I want to warm your belly or your heart.  Or at the very least tease out a little smile.

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