Your Brain is Vanilla Extract

Been building a chicken coop lately.  Get home around 5:45, walk the dog around the block, 6pm.  Work on the coop for a couple of hours, then dinner.  So late!  But, you have to work outside when the sun's out - especially in Seattle - even if it is only two hours on a weeknight.  And then you have to eat, but what's fast enough, filling enough?

I had bought some impulse produce at the farmers' market on Sunday.  At the time I was not sure if I'd even have time to use it, but it's impossible not to pluck something from the piles.  I was tired of the same pink apples, tired of kale and chard that turned up each week without ceasing.  Pale, thin green and white leeks and sprouting broccoli's deep green mix of bits and leaves proved to be the irresistible choices this April in the Northwest.  I'd succumbed to the sprouting broccoli the week before too, and had some leftover hollandaise I'd made for them then, out of 3 tablespoons of butter, a touch of water, an egg yolk, and copious amounts of salt and lemon juice.  Leftover hollandaise, I'd found out, just solidifies back into a near-butter state and keeps in the fridge, just like regular butter but with a superior lemony, salty tang, and can be re-liquified with a little low heat. 

Quick trip to the corner store for some whole wheat rotini and a can of Great Northern beans, for protein, and we're off.  Saute the leeks in butter and garlic, pour over some vegetable stock, pop on a lid and simmer.  Put on a big pot of water with salt and cook the rotini.  Chop a handful of sprouting broccoli and add it to the leek pot (more vegetable broth if it looks like it needs it, and a sprinkle of salt perhaps).  Put the lid back on.  Melt the hollandaise, stir in a little half-and-half.  Pour over the veg and stir in the sauce and the drained, rinsed beans.  Drain the noodles.  Add a few handfuls to the veg and stir.  Eat.  Eat a little more.

This is the kind of cooking I've always wanted to be able to do, drawing on what's around and making a meal that's more than just a starch, a steamed veg, and a protein - something that's actually a meal, pulled together.  Balanced.  With elements.  I associate that a lot with 'having a sauce' but it doesn't necessarily have to.  I like it also because it's useful - it uses what's there; it minimizes waste.  It means that I have some grasp of eating and cooking that goes beyond following a recipe into actually understanding how a food works, and how a recipe is made.

I could write a more exact recipe, but that would conflict with the attitude of the meal, the easy way with which it developed, the intention of this post to encourage creativity and spontaneity.  I love to read cookbooks that are like books with recipes sprinkled in, but in my book group some people said that those books are so hard to go back and cook from.  That's not the point, I think.  The point is that you learn to love food so you learn to improvise.  And it would be just grand to be able to do this all the time, but the truth is, there's a really high rate of failure at the start.  "I'll put these together... taste it... oh and now I'll throw it away and order pizza - that does not go together, nope."  There was a significant amount of time where I thought I just would not get to this point.  But like any thing, any art, any skill - the truth is that when you know how to follow a recipe and you've eaten good food in a restaurant, if you're not a trained chef, it will be a long time before your brain can truly absorb the knowledge enough to have your skills match your taste.  It's like your brain is a tiny bottle of vodka in which you've stuck a delicious vanilla bean - you don't have vanilla extract later that day, or even later that week.  But eventually it gets there.

Seattle Underground Tour

A few months ago, I went on a Seattle Underground Tour.  I was told by many it would be fun and hilarious, and by many others it would be dumb and tourist-y.  It was, in fact, somewhere in the middle.  I can’t really make a firm recommendation either way, unfortunately, because like many things, it depends on the people you’re with – particularly the tour guide.  The tour explains much about Seattle history, which is very interesting, and involves a lot of Western ruggedness, pioneer spirit, tidal and forest knowledge, sewage, fires, prostitution, money, hauntings, logging, death, narrow escapes and miracles, and the guides seem to know this inside and out.  The trouble is that there are also a lot of jokes – some are baked into the monolog, others added by the guide.  The jokes win or lose based on the comedic strength of the guide.  Our guide was decent with the jokes (quantity and quality) so our tour was fun, but if I were to advise going on the excursion it would be for the history.

Seattle was built too low, burned to the ground in an accident, then intentionally rebuilt over the previous city – this time above tide-level.    For a while the lower city persisted with walkways above, then buildings were built above and the city eventually encouraged businesses to just move to the surface city, leaving a den of iniquities below the surface in the once-streets-now-tunnels.  They cleaned those up and now there is just a series of empty tunnels (and a few remaining lower-level shops and restaurants) that are filled with nostalgia and a few cool remains (signs, storefronts, a bathtub, etc.).  I expected the underground to be slightly more interesting architecturally and in terms of creep-factor than it is (if you’ve been in an basement, the underground will probably not be that exciting) – so again, go most for the history lesson and let the ambiance be a bonus.  Also, maybe don’t go when it’s super cold or wet out, if those things bother you, because you’re basically outside almost the whole time.  It is cheesy and tourist-y at the beginning (when you are forced to wait in an extremely overpriced coffee shop) and at the end (where you exit through the gift shop).  Again, just stroll on by and you’ll be fine.  And tip the tour guide.  Funny or not, they’re doing an excellent job and are most definitely educated enough in the region and tales to answer nearly any questions you might ask. 

  

And since it seems to find its way into most of my posts – I don’t really think this tour is dog-friendly.  J

Northwest Hike #4: Poo Poo Point

The hike to Poo Poo Point (let’s just get this out of the way now – hahahahahaha.  Hahah.  Ha.  Oooh haha.  There.)  via the Chirico Trail is part of the Tiger Mountain trail system.  Unlike my previous hike up Tiger Mountain, this one comes with a well-marked trailhead complete with unmistakable parking lot.  You’re driving up the road and then on the left (as you’re headed away from I 90, it’s your left) there is a big field with a big parking lot.  The field is a landing strip for para-gliders so there is some signage for the para-gliding company marking the spot (and warning you to watch your head lest you get landed upon).  The lot is big but on the weekends often full (hiker beware).  There's also Honey Bucket in case you need one per- or post-hike (further warning: when we hiked this trail, no one had emptied the ‘honey’ out of the ‘bucket’ in quite a while, so maybe try to use the loo elsewhere before you arrive).

There’s an archway on the parking lot side of the field that points you directly across to where the path disappears into the forest, which is hard to miss.  The first part of the hike is partially-paved with rugged stones in the path and forming some stairs, giving the mossy, dappled forest trail a very Lothlorien feel.  

As you go up (and up and up – this trail is quite steep and at a near-constant incline) the rocks taper off into a more standard path.  There are lots of switchbacks and small viewpoints over the valley, and one of a small picturesque waterfall.  

Very near the top the path splits off into lots of little paths that appear to all lead to the first overlook.  This offers a wonderful view of the valley below and Mount Rainer in the distance (if you’re lucky and its not covered by clouds like it is in the picture below).  

But if you keep going, across the field and back into the woods and further up the mountain, you can get to the real top, which not only offers an even more spectacular view of the valley below (including the city of Issaquah), but also serves as weather tower station and the jumping off point for the para-gliders, which is an additional fun thing to watch.  If you were wondering why some hikers were carrying enormous packs up the trail, it's because they contain the glider and seat which the person can use to fly off the mountain top. It’s exciting to see them take off into the wind and begin their decent into the valley below. 

There are not always gliders waiting at the tip top, but a few minutes after this photo was taken there were about 15 queued up to jump off this very spot, so hang out and rest and wait a little bit and you might see one or two.  Talk to some gliders hiking up the path near you along the way if you want – most were amenable to answering questions I had of them, which also offered both of us a chance to rest and catch our breath (how long do you glide? Where do you land?  Why do you hike up here instead of taking the bus that magically appeared at the top? Do you own your own equipment?  etc.). 

The hike down is much quicker and easier.  At the bottom you might have to make a dash across the field to get to your car and not get landed upon by the gliders who are still slowly descending.  Turn back and look to the top and you might see a sky dotted with a rainbow of gliders.  

This is a popular path for hikers with dogs, most of whom were off-leash (the dogs and the hikers).  I think mine and one other was on leash out of 40 or so that were on the trail – all of whom were well behaved, leashed or not.    Also the trail is doubly popular for humans due to its dual hiking and paragliding potentials, so prepare to get to meet a lot of people along the way, with and without dogs and packs.  With the beauty and excitement, and being only 30 minutes from Seattle, it’s easy to see why.

Northwest Hike #3: Twin Falls

Twin Falls Trail is about 30 minutes from Seattle.  It's easy to find and has a big parking lot at the trail head with a kind of outhouse thingie - a 'toilet' over a hole in the ground with a shack around it, I forget what they're called.  You need a Discover Pass to park here, which you can buy at Fred Meyer or elsewhere in town to avoid having to find the ranger station when you arrive, or pay the day rate (which is reasonable if you rarely hike, but if you hike a few times a year the Discover Pass is nice to have).  The big parking lot is because it's popular, so if you want a close hike with a well-worn path and dogs (who are allowed here on a leash - please be courteous and keep yours on its leash, which seems obvious, but not everyone does) and toddlers (leashes not required) to pat as they pass, this is it.  Not so much with the silence of nature and the stillness of solitude. 

This hike was considered 'easy' in my Moon hiking guide, but I would say it's definitely medium difficulty.  For example, I would not bring my mom and dad, even though they are in reasonable shape.  My dog had a great time.  There are lots of places to pull over and have a snack and a sit if you want to refuel, picnic, nap or catch your breath.

The trail leads up some sometimes-steep inclines through old-growth forests to two views of a large waterfall, with a smaller waterfall above it.  Near the end of the trail you can walk down a wooden bridge/path to two small overlook decks, which should be a mandatory part of the hike because they gave the best, closest views of the bigger of the waterfalls

Note: when you get to the second waterfall, you are pretty much done with this trail so you can head back.  If you want to keep going, the trail goes on and connects with another trail.  We went on a bit thinking we might see something more spectacular, but then just turned back after some time.  If you are interested in a much longer hike, this would be recommended (see the map above), if you can get close enough of a peek at it.

Pacific Northwest Float Tour: Where Eagles Fly!

Christmas gifts can be so boring and confusing.  Socks.  Meh.  Or yay? But this color is not right.  Is this watch too expensive of a gift?  Or too cheap?  Gift cards are the ultimate zzzzz, even though it lessens the risk they’ll hate your gift (because it’s overly safe).

I like to give experiences - usually ones that involve me spending time with the recipient, so it’s also a fancied up way of giving the gift of time.  Hopefully no one I’d actually get a gift for hates the gift of hanging out with me, so the risk seems low.  For Christmas 2012, I got Joel the gift of taking a raft down the Skagit River to see a bunch of majestic eagles hanging out in their natural habitat.  As we are not from the Northwest, neither of us have overcome the excitement of watching an enormous avian symbol of our country swoop down to catch a wild salmon, so it promised to be at least a marginally good time.

And, it was!  The raft trip was a simple float down a mostly calm river, albeit in the cold rain.  Eagles like the cold rain, what can I say?  We had to go to them.  We saw about 20-25 birds on our two-hour tour.  Most were pretty high up in trees, and another couple in the boat let us share their binoculars so we could get a good look.  Some flew around, alone or in pairs, but sadly none swooped for a fish (apparently they eat early in the day, so if you’re going to do this go early).  Still, it’s hard to complain.

 It was totally freezing, though, so when we were done we went to the gift shop/interpretation center for some 50 cent hot chocolate.  There you can see a ‘small’ nest close up.  Here’s Joel with the nest, so you can see the scale.  The ‘little’ nest is huge.  Imagine the normal sized nest!  It’d be like a king sized bed, but made of sticks and full of eggs.

 If you are into this kind of mild adventure, the company we used was Pacific NW Float Tours.  They are very funny, knowledgeable guides who have been floating the Skagit, and other rivers, for years.  Our guide had 20+ years experience (he remembers when the Skagit followed a different path!).  The company does more exciting adventures too, including white water raft and canoe and kayak tours when the weather is not totally freezing.  Until then, I’ll enjoy the scenery as dryly as possible.

A Food Memory: Church Potlucks

Sometime in December, before Christmas, the First Presbyterian Church of Shadyside had a potluck supper. 

Shadyside, having a population of approximately 3500 souls, had about nine churches of varying sizes.  Assuming some souls worshiped no god, others worshipped Him outside of city limits, roughly 1/3 were Catholic, and another 1/3 were too busy, tired or uninterested to attend any sort of potluck at all, that meant that about 50-80 people (including children) would come back to church on a freezing Sunday night, after having already come for services on a freezing Sunday morning, with casserole dishes in hot-pad covered hands, to eat together.

This was a positively magical night for me.  I’ve had a lot of fancier meals since, at homes and restaurants - but to this day there is little that delights my stomach more than the glimpse of a wide buffet.  I’ll take one bite of a hundred things over a big bowl of any one thing, no matter how good it is (this predilection, no doubt, mixed with a more refined palette, explains why I also adore a tasting menu).   What was even more delightful were all of the church ladies bustling around the tiny kitchen in their calico dresses and gray-white buns, trying ever so hard to coordinate food into an appropriate buffet flow with a few dozen children underfoot, and a few dozen men who clearly needed to be told what to do, lest they stand there drinking percolated coffee mumbling about their yards.  Among the ladies: both of my grandmothers (granny and grandma), my mom, and my aunts; among the men: both of my grandfathers (pap pap and grandpa), my dad, and an uncle.  Among the children: my brother and I.  Often in attendance: yet another aunt and uncle and their kids.  We filled a table.

Despite my current musings about religion and science, I have no personal anxiety about or dislike of religion like some people who may have been raised with guilt or anger, which I owe to all of these people for being respectful and reserved, and not bashing anyone over the head with fears of hell or guilt, or lambasting science.  Also for an artistic person I have a remarkably loving and functional family who support me completely.   I remember with total nostalgic contentment how much I loved having everyone at one table, eating.  A few grandparents and an uncle were particularly adept at telling jokes, too, most of which have passed on and who I miss greatly.

I did weird child things like make a fort out of the coats, try to hide in the kitchen cupboards, and play hide-and-seek in the empty, dark church classrooms with the other kids.  We made paper ornaments to hang on the tree in the hall to the tune of our garbled carols after the eating.  But, like anything else, much of this was really about the eating.      

The food now sounds so dated, such a remnant of mid-century’s celebration of technological convenience mixed with a depression-survivor mentality – cans, gelatin, bleached flour, crocks of stuff suspended in tinned cream of something, topped with factory-crisped onions.  Ham with pineapple.  Parmesan crusted chicken breasts, as tan and dry as a desert.   Pot roast a’ sea in beef broth.  Creamed corn, creamed spinach, creamed green beans (I’m sure no one considered a vegetable not baked in cream).  Billowy, buttery mashed potatoes.  Pure, sweet white parker house rolls.  But lord, to a child, such a bastion of fat and youth-palatable flavors seemed to never end - until it did, at a table that inevitably held one fruit-filled Jell-O with whipped cream topping, one pie filled with fruit in a viscous jelly, and a gigantic soft white sheet cake under an icing of as much sugar as the requisite amount of butter could hold without disintegrating under its own crystalline weight.

This was a time where we were encouraged to eat as much of this bounty as it took to stuff us to our ears (we didn’t worry about health or weight, and no one doubt any child would run it off climbing tress or playing sports in the street), then sit around sipping coffee for an hour or so, digesting.  No one had a phone or a computer or anywhere else to be, so people talked – mostly about people, their yards, local sports, what the kids were doing, what the people who had left town were doing.  People were already leaving town, but it wasn’t yet as prevalent as it would get in later years.  This was after the birth of the 24-hour news cycle, but where you could still get away from it – and perhaps more importantly, where you could still want to get away from it and not be accused of being a luddite. If you all wanted to know who was in a movie or what the periodic symbol for Argon was, you had to think about it. 

The most wonderful thing was that people wanted to come, and didn’t have to take great pains to clear their schedule to do so.  Odds are that I just remember it differently because I was just a child and my schedule was governed by my parents.  But since I was around ten, everything got so much smaller.  Many people have died, plenty more have left town or the church, and the few who remained got Busy.  My family got smaller.  I left town.  I don’t even know if they do it anymore.  I cannot imagine that, should I be so inclined to recreate them, many of the recipes would taste good to me today, but do not doubt for a second how delicious my memory of the food-mosaic of a plate remains.

Northwest Hike #2: Tiger Mountain Trail

Last weekend I went hiking at Tiger Mountain Trail.  Tiger Mountain is about 30 minutes from Seattle, and the whole Tiger Mountain Trail is around 16 miles and has a few offshoots, trail heads, and other un- or poorly-marked paths.  I followed the directions on the Washington Trails Association website but be warned - if you look at two different sets of directions, or you look at Tiger Mountain, Tiger Mountain North and/or Tiger Mountain South, you can get conflicting directions.  The ones I finally settled on included the notion that there was a well marked trail head and parking lot, which was not the case.  I ended up parking on a wide shoulder of Tiger Mountain Road and finding the index-card-sized trail marker stapled to a tree.  Apparently there are better directions, but if you end on Tiger Mountain Road, beware that it's not super clear where the trail begins.  Also, Tiger Mountain Road is just a loop off of another main road, and that the distance from the trailhead to the main road will depend which turn you take onto Tiger Mountain Road.  That said, the trailhead was also supposed to be around a mile from the turn, but it was actually far more than a mile from one turn on to Tiger Mountain Road and far less than a mile from the other turn.

The Trails Association website also promised a waterfall about two miles in, which seemed a good turn around point, but we never did see a waterfall and I went decently past the two mile mark.  Turns out, you have to be really, really careful which site you read and which trail head you are at, because you could just see nothing.  Which is not to say that it is an unpleasant hike - it's a lovely fall hike.  From where I started it was uphill at the start and flattens out, and it's nicely forested.  The trail is for hikers and horseback riders, so you might happen upon some people on horseback like I did.  Just don't expect to see anything spectacular unless you're planning to go for closer to at least five miles.  Or possibly two miles just from another trail head.  I guess either be flexible, be in for a medium to long hike, or be careful.