Lately, I've been into making risotto. I made some for our office potluck yesterday, and thought I'd share, since it seemed popular:
What do I need?
Olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2-1/4 cups arborio rice
Pinch of saffron (optional)
10 cups of broth - I used a vegetarian chicken broth, from a jar
1 bunch kale (I used Russian), chopped
~ 1 lb mushrooms, chopped
Garlic, chopped or smashed, whatever floats your boat
Salt and pepper to taste
Butter (~1 T)
Parmesan cheese (~1/2 cup)
Lemon wedges
Got the stuff, now what?
Heat the broth on another burner - you'll need it soon (you might want to get that going while you're chopping stuff)
Sautee onion in oil (~2 T), over medium heat, for about 5 minutes (will be looking more translucent) - do this in a good-sized pot
Add rice and stir so also coated in oil, cook for a few minutes
(If you're using saffron, let it soak in a cup of the hot broth for a few minutes and use it as your first cup that you add to the rice)
Add first cup or two of hot broth, stir, let soak into rice
After 1-2 cups of broth is absorbed, keep adding broth by 1-2 cups, allowing the previous quantity to be absorbed first
As that's happening, sautee the veggies and garlic in oil in another vessel with good surface area - I did the kale and mushrooms separately, with the stems of the kale put in first so they'd cook well, and added truffle oil to the mushrooms to really bring out their mushroominess (but truffle oil's pricey - the only reason I have it is that a friend gave it to us - so don't think it's essential)
Keep on with the rice and broth - what you're aiming for is a creamy texture without the whole thing feeling mushy
Note: you won't neccessarily use all the broth - it depends on the rice and the weather and all that
When you like the texture of the rice, turn off the heat
Stir in butter and cheese if you feel like it
Stir in veggies
Serve with lemon wedges - they really add some pep
Note 2: Add the salt and pepper whenever you feel it appropriate - to the broth, to the rice, to the veggies, at the end...
Note 3: I also garnished with roasted butternut squash, because it added good color and a little flavor, though you know we didn't really need it nutritionally
If you're interested in doing that, cut up a peeled squash (it's easier to cut in half first and then peel), toss with olive oil, salt, pepper, etc. (I used some cumin)
Place on a baking sheet and stick in 375 degree oven for ~30 minutes (this depends on how big your chunks of squash are - keep your sniffer alert)
My brother has a one-track mind.
We were just catching up by phone. He told me about his new job, at the Buttercup Bakeshop. Isn't that a great name? I like to picture him wearing a white paper hat and a white apron. He's got the apron, but wears a baseball cap. I told him about my diminishing motivitation to make a Halloween costume. And then I remembered. I hadn't told him that Sam and I were going to see Rebirth Brass Band. It's great - a band from New Orleans, a band that has a standing Tuesday night gig in our old neighborhood, a band we thoroughly enjoy - here in Honolulu.
Me: Guess what we're doing for Halloween?
Him: Having a baby?!
I'm not making this up.
I am hungry! I don't know why I feel I should not eat my lunch at 10:30 in the morning, but I do. I guess I'm worried about being hungry later this afternoon. But I should just given in to the grumbling stomach and eat my crackers and mock chicken salad.
Since last we met, many thing have happened. Nothing so exciting as going to California or planning a trip to Fiji, but good, nonetheless.
One of the highlights of the weekend was going to the pumpkin patch on Saturday with our couple friends. Yep, we have a pumpkin patch here. From what I understand, it's only in recent years that they finally bred a pumpkin that does well here in Hawaii. Sam and I came home with 7 pumpkins, including 4 little decorative ones. There were just so many good specimens, I couldn't pass them up. All those pumpkins for just $7, and a good time was had by all. A bit on the hot side, even in my tank top, but hey, that's what happens when you go pumpkin-picking in Hawaii. Strange weather for a fall ritual.
There's a man I sometimes see, who fascinates me. He's middle-aged, with beautiful, thick, silvery white hair. He wears dress shoes or fancy boots, dress pants, and a long-sleeved button-down shirt. His clothing, alone, sets him apart from the crowd. The crowd can be found wearing slippahs, short/jeans/chinos, and t-shirts/aloha shirts.
But his most distinguishing feature is his hair style. There is a tidy part across the top of his head, and the hair to the back of this part is pulled back into a small ponytail. The hair to the front is swept into what I think of as his unicorn horn - a horizontal cone of hair, extending several inches out in front of his forehead.
Last night we had a purple dinner: cabbage with marinated tofu, and Okinawan sweet potatoes.
Reviews from the critics:
"Surprisingly filling."
"Could have used more spices."
"An aesthetic treat!"
Since I got married last year, almost all of my conversations with my brother Anis have a segment similar to one of these:
Me: Hi, how are you?
Him: Good. Are you calling 'cause you're pregnant?
...................
Me: I just can't stay up late like I used to. Last weekend I tried it, and I was in a bad mood the next day.
Him: You're probably pregnant.
Me: Anis, I'm not pregant.
Him: Yeah, you are. You just don't know it yet.
...................
Me: I went to the doctor - my hip sometimes hurts when I walk.
Him: Are you pregnant?!
Me: No.
Him: Or maybe you are. But you guys aren't ready to make the announcement yet. So you're lying to me.
...................
It's amusing to have a brother so interested in my with-child/not-with-child status.
For the record, I'm not lying to him.
There's been a red plum sitting on my desk the past couple of days.
Plums remind me of the summer I was four or five, and my grandmother and I were visiting my aunt and her husband (Meisa's parents-to-be). I was eating several plums a day. My grandmother finally felt compelled to limit the number of plums I was eating - she was afraid I would develop diarrhea.
The things I remember.
Last night, I ate a mango that I found in the parking lot of the apartment building next door. It fell from the tree, not from someone's grocery bag. This excites me. It seems just so... Hawaii.
Even though it's not what I am usually able to do.
... to me.
Last night, I stayed up too late. For some reason, I read one of my blog entries from earlier this week. And then the one before that, and then the one before that, and then the one before that.... It got kind of addictive, reviewing things that happened to me, and thoughts that I had. When I reached my first entry at this site, I headed over to my Diaryland archives. When all was read, I looked to the top of the screen and realized that this reading-all-my-blog-entries-for-no-reason had started (I finished after midnight) on the 1-year-anniversary of my first blog entry.
Kind of funny.
It made me think about how thankful I am that I have a blog. It sounds weird, I know. But seriously, I feel like I've met people that I wouldn't have otherwise. And gotten to know others a little better. And been reunited with people I haven't been in touch with for a while.
Thanks, Lacey! And thanks to you, who visit me here.
............................................
This morning, I was sitting at my desk for about 15 minutes before I realized my fly was open.
Yikes, is that why that guy on the bike smiled and said good morning as I was walking to work?!
Sam's in Atlanta for the week, but he continues to take good care of me.
I have a hard time getting up in the morning, so he's usually the one waking me up and asking me what kind of tea I want, and being really patient as I groggily stumble around the apartment. Since he's been gone, he's called every morning at the appropriate time to see that I'm up. So far I have been, for about five minutes, but it's nice to know I have a safety net.
AND, I picked up the car today, thanks to a nicely coordinated effort by Sam. Saturday, I was, inexplicably, in a foul humor and being quite the pill, while he was arranging for a new rental car, as our insurance-paid rental car had reached its expiration date. Well, we could have kept it, but we didn't want to pay that rate, if it was coming directly out of our pocket. Sam found a cheap rental place within walking distance of the shop where Nelly was being fixed, and reserved a rental until midday today, when the car was to be ready. A well-oiled agenda - it all went smoothly.
Thanks, pal!
It’s Wednesday morning. Which means yesterday was Tuesday. Which means I went to Pilates. Which means it’s time to complain.
Last week was the first time since probably July, maybe August, that I went to Pilates class. I haven’t yet figured out my teacher’s mindset – whether she’s trying to punish me for not coming to class for so long, or if she’s under the (wrong) impression that I’ve been some exercising maven in the past two months. I am a wee one – under 5 feet tall. There was a time when I was lean and muscular. This is <u>not</u> that time.
But when it came time to do exercises with a partner, who does my teacher specifically pair me with?
Last week: this tall, built woman, who’s got to have more muscle mass in her thigh than I have in my whole body. The same woman who made me double-take the week before when I passed her in the hall. Not because I’m considering playing for the other team. But because she looks so... solid.
This week: a guy who’s probably about a foot taller than me, and didn’t fall off the scrawny tree. If he hadn’t walked in just then, the teacher was going to partner with me herself. And she is ultra strong – demonstrating everything, making it look effortless, while talking.
Let’s review: I’m 4’11” and out of shape. And both times, I initially found someone else in the class to partner with. And the exercises involve supporting your partner’s weight. I know, I know, I'll thank her when I have abs and thighs of steel. Let's see what next week brings.
Since Mojan made mention of a Tolo last week, I've been curious. Of course, first I went to the source (Mojan). Then I Googled it. There seems to be agreement that it is a dance, to which girls ask boys. I looked at a few of the Google results - all of them were in reference to schools in Washington.
My questions to you are:
Do/did you use the word Tolo? Where are you from?
Just curious if I should add this new word to my regular vocabulary, or reserve it for use only when I'm in Washington state.
I was doing some major dreaming last night. Also contributing to my haziness today is the intense rain and wind that woke me up. Even though it disturbed my zzz's, it was great. Ahh, how I love the trades. It's been a while, wind, it's good to have you back.
My last dream of the morning was set in Chicagoland. For those of you not familiar with Chicagoland, it is Chicago and its suburbs, not some amusement park. We were living in the same building as Mahsa and Andalib, and went over to a study circle/party in their pad. Turns out Ashley Judd was part of our study circle. She was wearing some kickin' shoes, with a red strap among the black ones across the instep. My focusing on them was like watching it on a movie screen, rather than through my own eyes. Now that I'm trying to picture the shoes, the image isn't so clear, and what I'm seeing I don't really like. But in the dream, I was all over them.
Last night, we went to see a Palestinian movie - Rana's Wedding. It was quite moving. Sad because of what Rana's daily life involved, even on her wedding day. Happy because of the strength of the human spirit in the face of hardship. Although it was a movie, I pictured her and her husband telling their future children of the circumstances of their wedding and all that it entailed.
If it's showing in your area, go see it. I liked getting a glimpse into life elsewhere, even if it wasn't all roses and bonbons.
Near my office, there are shops that I frequently pass but never enter. This week, I went to two of them.
In one, I bought a lovely tea – Harney & Sons Chocolate Mint. I’m not generally a fan of flavored teas, but this one’s yummy. (Tea lovers, check it out, if you haven’t already.)
In the other, I bought nothing, but was entertained by the salesperson. She was the hovering type, the ones that make me want to run out of the store, screaming. So even though she raised my blood pressure, she was able to provide some giggling material:
1) She kept referring to their “software” The woman she was addressing was apparently as confused as I was, considering we were in a shop with things like clothing, soaps, candles, and various decorative items. The costumer finally asked her if it was the soft knit material of the clothes that made her use the word in that context.
2) She spotted and commented on my earrings. I usually wear gold studs in the three holes in my left lobe. Today, I happened to be wearing an assortment of earrings, including a fly earring and a frog earring. I think it an amusing combination. But she did not take note of my cleverness – instead she said, “Oh... your earrings... they look like maybe they hurt.... But, I guess they don't?” I could tell she wanted to say more, like maybe she was concerned that part of my ear was in danger of falling off. But she was trying to be tactful. I’d say she failed in that. I, however, was the perfect Southern lady, replying with a balance of sarcasm and politeness, "No, they don't." It's true - it's not what you say, it's how you say it.
I’d say she needs to get out more.
Maybe tomorrow I should go in wearing my outhouse earring, with the guy that flips off the toilet.
After a few hours of contemplation, I have decided to have my legs amputated. I'm going to have a neighbor come remove the useless appendages, using the dining table for the surgery. What good are two columns of jello? That's what they've been reduced to by my Pilates class.
It seems wrong to spot pigeons pecking on the remnants of a fried chicken leg. Have they no respect for their feathered brethren?
Last night I was home and awake for about 1.5 hours. Before I proceed any further with this train of thought, I should give you some background:
- we are <u>not</u> in the habit of finding dead creatures in our apartment, and
- our building is a safe and quiet building, inhabited primarily by older people and families. Noise is generally created by a kid practicing piano.
So, back to the 1.5 hours I spent at home. In that time, I (not in this order)
1) discovered a dessicated baby gecko in the bathroom - a room we use quite often, as you might guess, and a room that was sans gecko in the morning
2) ate prepared soba noodles from the grocery store
3) watched 7th Heaven, taped earlier in the evening
4) was annoyed by a loud horn
Number 4 was the true strangeness of the evening. Soon after we got home, we hear the annoying sound. Is it a car alarm? Is it a fire alarm? Is it an emergency siren? Was there an accident, and someone's head is stuck against their car horn?
Looking down from the lanai, I could see people coming out of their homes. It was sort of funny, and heartwarming, seeing people walking out of different buildings, all confused. It was difficult to place the source of the sound. Sam and I then listened from the other side of the building where, again, people were coming out to investigate the source of the sound. We decided to go down to check it out as well, with cell phone in hand, in case emergency personnel needed to be called. Oh, the sweet quiet in the elevator - the sound of the horn distant and faint, not taking over every molecule in my body.
Downstairs, we found more people, not visible from above. Some were in the breezeway by the elevator, others were clustered by the source of the sound. Ah hah! A Chevy van, with the hood raised, in our parking lot! Still making the sound, but identified.
And in the breezeway - the culprits. Our building manager was telling a young man that he better just sit down and wait. One of the women in the breezeway, who it turns out had the same head-against-the-horn visions that I had, walked over. She told us that the young man and his companions had tried to break into the van, thus triggering the horrible sound, and then tried to hide under the stairs. But she had spotted them, and then it was our building manager to the rescue. I liked him before, but now that I've seen him take charge of hooligans....
And right after we heard the story from the woman in our building, the magic of the Chevey cluster worked. The sound stopped. And clapping ensued.
1) Last night, after waiting sooo long, I finally saw the YWCA on ER. Carter ate in the cafe, and talked to the other Doctors Without Borders doctor overlooking the pool, and spent some time in the lobby - all places posing as places in Congo, but really places I walk through every week.
2) The buses are back! TheBus workers returned to work early Monday morning. This week the bus has been free, in an attempt to ensure that riders return. Unfortunately, next week fares will be put in place and they'll be higher than before, making it hard for me to justify taking the bus instead of walking home. My heart will thank me?
Places to visit while in Chicago in December:
Homes of family and friends
Baha'i House of Worship
Paper Source
Alice and Friends Vegetarian Cafe
Crate and Barrel
The Container Store
Place to visit while in New Orleans in December:
My family's home
Cafe du Monde
The Gumbo Shop
I think this is an interesting article:
Report: Nigeria No. 1 in happiness, U.S. ranks 16th
I need to remember their conclusion that the desire for material goods, which has increased hand in hand with average income, is a happiness suppressant. There's a part of me that knows that on one level, but sometimes I get so wrapped up in things, that I forget not to. It's a delicate balance.
I also think it's interesting that this morning it was in "Offbeat News," and by this afternoon had made its way to "World News"
I plan to read more about this World Values Survey.
trrrrilll...
My consciousness fights to reach the surface.
trrrrilll...
What is that sound?
trrrrilll...
I look to the alarm clock, wondering if that could be the source. No, it’s only 1:45.
trrrrilll...
The sound of my voice comes from the living room. Oh, it’s the answering machine. That means the sound is the phone. Family emergency? A wrong number?
I rush to the other room, only to have all sounds stop.
I go back to the bedroom.
bembembem... bembembem...
Sam gropes in the dark, looks at his cell phone.
“It’s a client,” he says, and sends the caller to voicemail.
I wonder how his client knew our home number as well, and why theyare calling so late?
trrrrilll...
Our phone starts ringing again. This time I answer.
“I’m calling for Sam,” says the voice at the other end.
With some trepidation, I ask who's calling.
“It’s the police. We found the car.”
That was yesterday morning. Yesterday afternoon we went to the see the car, expecting the worst. We were surprised to see it looking quite intact. We were also confused – what about the parts we thought they wanted, what about the burning we hear so much about? We don’t know if it runs, since the starter was missing. But it will probably still be totaled, since they ripped some of the upholstery, and we're told that's expensive to fix.
Soon, I will focus on other things.