Recital

Does every little girl (in America) have to live through recitals with tutus and tap shoes? I sure didn't live through it. We just experienced what we thought was just a fun 'dance class' we signed her up for months ago, turned into a Spring recital. 

Oh there was so much more about this recital than just the cute daisy tutus – so much I didn't know about!

Shall we just leave it at that?

Our own tulip

Our tulips, my birthday presents from Jim and the kids, back in September, are finally starting to bloom. We planted them last fall, in front of the house, and in the backyard. Most other houses have been decorated with their tulips all ready. I am not sure why ours took much longer.



At any rate, I was going to capture the beauty of the tulip's simple elegance, when a little person came over to 'love' the tulip with his hands...

How much better is the tulip with those loving hands! It does look loved, coddled and cherished as compared to the single lonely flower. I think you will agree.

Sushi, at home

It's no secret that our family likes Japanese food. I grew up eating Japanese food at least once a week. It was a tradition of sort, a Sunday dinner with my father after we picked him up from his office (the one time a week that we saw him, it felt like. Busy man that he was...busy man that he still is).

There was a restaurant near by that we would stop for dinner before heading home called Hakata. I still remember its open room, the tatami area where our family tended to sit, the warm white towels offered to us when we first sat down. It's a comforting, almost nostalgic experience for me, eating Japanese food. 



Here in Columbus, we have frequented a few Japanese restaurants, near and far. The kids eat the food with zeal, and we all leave happily full, every time (except for the times when one of us ate just one too many rolls!).

Earlier in the day, we had planned on going to a different Japanese restaurant – one recommended by a Japanese living in Northwest Columbus. We had a hearty breakfast at home, a light lunch at home, and for dinner, I was going to put my feet up and rely on the restaurant to feed (and clean for) us.



Late afternoon came, the kids played outdoors amidst high winds, and torrential rain. They came in for a warm bath; and re-emerged in...pajamas. Wait! I said. We are going out for dinner!

Oh NO, Mommy. We are eating at home! They both protested.


But...we were going to go out for Japanese, remember? Sushi? Unagi? Miso? I tried to stand firm. Those clean dishes didn't need to come out again...until tomorrow.


You can make all of that stuff, Mommy! We don't need to go anywhere! They both looked at me with puppy eyes.

Alright. Yes, I can do it. Where's the sushi roller?



Sushi Rice

Make your sushi rice as normal (we use our handy rice cooker), make about 2 cups of rice.

In a bowl or pot, combine 2 Tablespoons of Rice Vinegar, 2 Tablespoons granulated sugar, and 1 Tablespoon of salt. Heat this on the stove or in the microwave until all dissolved.

Once the rice is done, add the vinegar mixture to the rice. Mix well.

To make the sushi rolls

You will need Nori sheets (seaweed sheets for making sushi rolls), a sushi bamboo roller, and anything that you like to go inside your sushi rolls. We like avocado, cucumber, pickles, mango, roasted eel, crab sticks...

Put the nori on your sushi bamboo roller. Add a thin layer of rice (like first snow falling onto the ground) all over the nori. Put your contents in a straight line on the edge  closest to you (not too much, less is more here). Now, carefully roll the bamboo roller together with the nori, and keep rolling, keeping the contents inside using a firm grip. Roll until you get to the end of the nori, and give it a good squeeze.

Wet a sharp knife under cold water, and cut the roll into bite size pieces.

Serve immediately with a little soy sauce on the side. Wasabi and pickled ginger also welcome.

All Together

After months of waiting, and wishing, and wondering if it will happen again...poof! all the trees and flowers burst out into the world in unison, as if they had planned it ahead of time.



And if you were lying on your back, in our backyard, this is what you would see: petals upon petals of pink magnolia, like a curtain obstructing your view of the blue sky.



It's a fine way to be obstructed, though, isn't it? A welcome sight this time of year. There will be so many more sights like these to share, I think you know that pretty well.

Songkran 2011

Songkran is Thai New Year, always on April 13th, the hottest time of the year. It's a family-time, a time to relax, and visit relatives, and eat a lot of good Thai food.

The tradition also includes splashing each other with water, to cleanse away the previous year's negativity. I have a feeling that this tradition might have a lot to do with the unimaginable heat and dryness of this season in Thailand. Who wouldn't want to cool off a bit?

We did this reenactment when we visited Thailand a few months ago (no, we can't grow tropical plants in Ohio, sadly). It might be warm enough tomorrow for a little splashing, too. But I will let the children do that part of the business. I will honor it by making some Thai food instead.

When the yard gives you violets...

You make cake, of course!



What cake? There is only one cake that is oh so appropriate for these newly sugared violets. It is Molly's Yogurt-Lemon cake, our favorite around here.



Many months ago, in the middle of winter, when the kids flipped through their Nature Craft for Kids book, they begged me to make these candied violets. I agreed, with one contingency: we had to wait for the ground to be rid of snow, and ice, and then maybe we can start dreaming about sprinkling sugar onto violets.



That was before we knew about these little gems that happen to pop up all over our front yard!

Candied Violets

Pick a handful of violets, with stems attached. Rinse well, and dry on paper towel. In a bowl, separate egg white, and with a small brush, cover each violet with the egg white. Sprinkle white sugar all over, and set to dry. Decorate on whichever cake you desire!

The Young and the Old

For five minutes waiting in line at the post office this morning, I peeked into a woman's life, and wisdom.

Two older ladies were behind me, chatting. I missed the beginning of their conversation (they were strangers to each other). I came into this:

"I have an 89 year old mother! She lives with me..." said the African-American lady. "I am 75 myself!"

"Really! I just turned 70. Didn't want to..." said the Caucasian lady. I could see that she came in with a limp, and a cane.

"Why not?!" asked the African-American lady. She was stout, but cane-less, and well dressed (for coming to the post office).

"Oh...I don't want to get old! I want to be young forever!" replied the Caucasian lady.

"I don't! I don't mind getting old. Well...if I could be young again, I would want to be 23. My husband was still around, so were my kids. Life was good."

Then she went on: "Now they are all gone... I take care of my mother now... But ya know, my grandfather lived to be 105, and my grandmother was 95 when she died...so...I have a feeling I will be around a bit more. And that's okay with me, I look forward to it!"

It was then my turn to get help from the postal lady. For the first time in my going-to-the-post-office-life, I wish I had a little more time standing in line, to continue to eavesdrop on these two ladies as they relived their lives, one wanting the past, the other didn't mind the unforeseen future.

But the little glimpse I got from them was just enough to add a spring-of-wisdom to my steps as I walked home.

It's the attitude that counts. Young or old.

Our own Christopher

As in, Christopher Robin, the little boy whose best friend is Winnie-the-pooh. In this case, Pooh is his sister. (Wouldn't it be wonderful if all those characters really were to exist? I would like to be a good friend of Piglet's myself).

It rained here yesterday. Wait, no, it poured here yesterday...a good drenching April shower that hopefully will help grow the May flowers.



Our children, both of them, wanted nothing to do with the indoors. They came home from school, ran right back outside with umbrellas, boots, cups and bowls. They even brought books with them, to read under their 'protected fort'.



They were enjoying the rain the way children are meant to. And despite the mud and the water that came back into the house with them, I would be silly to complain.

Playing with fire

I once spent some weeks in the north of India, in the foothills of the Himalayas.

My host family belonged to the warrior caste, in the multi-caste system dated back many centuries in that part of the world. This is to say that they were considered a middle class family. They were relatively wealthy, as far as Indians go.

The host parents gave up their bedroom for me, the largest room in their house on a hill over looking a gorge. The bed was a mattress on a hard wooden platform. They would serve me Indian tea (with lots of milk and sugar thanks to the Colonial Brits) the first thing I woke up in the morning.

My host mother would have already spent several hours up and about, milking their only cow, making butter and ghee (Indian clarified butter), doing laundry – the old fashioned way. I can't remember how I communicated with her since she didn't speak a word of English. My only translator was her oldest daughter who was in school most of the day, but when at home, she would help around the house, or I would find her knitting socks for the upcoming winter.



The most vivid memory I have from my time spent with this family was, of course, in their kitchen. It was the warmest room in the house, with the most basic essentials. This is to say, there was not a dining table, or chairs, or elaborate cookware.

The host mother was often at a granite counter, chopping vegetables, making Indian delicacies, or making chapatis. We, the eaters, would wait on the cement floor. My host sister was in charge of stoking the small fire pit around which we sat.

What I remember is that what I ate there was far better than any Indian food I had before stepping foot into India. The vegetables were freshly collected from their vegetable plot down the slope in front of their house, and the chapatis were always made fresh. I can still hear the sounds of the flat dough tapping back and forth between my host mother's flat hands. Tap Tap Tap. And then she would put it on direct flame to cook and char it before giving it to one of us.



Those Tap Tap Tap sounds were heard again this weekend, thousands of miles from that small, warm, cozy Indian kitchen. The hands tapping the dough were much smaller, and much less experienced. I recounted my India stories to my family as we prepared some Indian dishes for dinner, probably only half as good as the ones I had in its mother land.

We even made ghee, from our own homemade butter, and Aloo Saag (with frozen spinach). Our ambitious endeavor was well rewarded not only in our tummies. My faded memory is now that much clearer, thanks to the opportunity to relive a fraction of my experience through these foods.

Funny how that works, isn't it?

The comforting meatballs

I did not grow up eating Spaghetti & Meatball sauce. I didn't even order it when we went out to Italian restaurants in Bangkok. Nor did I look for it in Italy during my visits there. If anything, it was Spaghetti Bolognese that I craved and associated with comforting Italian food (especially during my pregnancy with these kiddos). So naturally, I didn't have a natural affinity to this dish. The meatballs. Until the children arrived.



It must be an American-Italian comfort food, something that every American child has to live through, even when it's heated up from a can. (The thought alone makes me sad).

Somewhere along the last seven years (or more like 4 years since I don't think the kids had any say in what they ate during their first few years), I started making this dish. I don't remember if I opened a cookbook, or consulted google, or just winged it (as usual). But I have pretty much been doing the same things for it, with good results (and never wrote it down, until today). The sauce with the meatballs freeze beautifully as well. I usually start making it in the early part of the day, and have the pot simmer for hours. When the kids come home from school and get a whiff of that familiar comforting aroma, they leap with joy (okay, maybe just a small jump). "Spaghetti for dinner!" they would announce.



I asked them for help today, specifically to make the meatballs (I had the sauce already simmering in the pot). My sweet son with the best tools around (his hands) volunteered to help. Little did he know that I was going to use him, from beginning to end. He seemed to have been thrilled that I let him use a big knife to chop the parsley (he even thanked me for this), and a tong to turn the meatballs. A few more times of being the sous chef, the little man will be making this whole thing by himself! I can't wait.



I also succumbed to baking the 'No Knead Bread' to go with our meal. I had been dubious about this, somewhat irrationally. What is wrong with kneading the bread dough? Why don't people have just 10 minutes to do it the proper way? The way our ancestors have always made bread?

Anyhow, I did it. And shall I say, I was surprised at how good it turned out. But next time, I am still going to pull up my sleeves and give the dough a little love.

Meatball Sauce

For the sauce:

1 small onion, diced
3 medium carrots
3 celery stalks
a handful of parsley
2 cloves garlic

1 can flat anchovies in oil
2 Tablespoons tomato paste
1/4 cup dry red wine
2 Tablespoons maple syrup

1 teaspoon of Herb de Provence (or a mixture of thyme, organo, rosemary)
Salt and pepper to taste

3, 14 oz cans diced or whole peeled tomatoes

Put the first five ingredients into a food processor (or hand chop them all finely). Pulse until finely chopped and blended.

In a heavy sauce pan or pot, cover the bottom with a thin layer of olive oil. When the oil is warm, add the chopped vegetables. Stir and cook for about 5 minutes.

Add one whole can of anchovies, and 2 tablespoons of tomato paste to the vegetable mixture. Stir well. Cook for a few more minutes.

Add red wine, and maple syrup. Let simmer for a few more minutes.

Puree the tomatoes in the food processor, and add this to the pot. Mix well, and let simmer.

This sauce is great alone, and you can omit the anchovies if you would like to make it a vegetarian (vegan) sauce.

The Meatballs

1 lb ground beef (or bison is a great option!)
1/2 cup panko (Japanese bread crumb)
1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese
1 egg
1/4 cup ketchup
a small handful of chopped parsley

Put all the ingredients in a large bowl. Combine with your hands, making sure it is well blended.  Take a bit of the mixture to roll into balls, the size of a golf ball.

Heat oil in a pan (we use a caste iron pan), drop the meatballs in the pan and brown all sides.

Add the meatballs into the big pot of sauce, and there you have it...the comforting Meatball sauce ready for cooked (al dente) spaghetti or whatever pasta you prefer.

Lingering

Why is it that winter seems to be the only season that lingers? Summer tends to end abruptly, so does fall...and spring...well, it gets muddled with its predecessor.



But when it does come, it comes at full speed. Short, and sweet. And I can't wait for that to happen here.

Although, I do admit that I don't mind how the snow is making the still bare branches all dressed up and clean-looking again.

Spring inside

Washington DC in the Springtime

Washington DC put on an amazing Spring show for us. Though only half a day's drive away, we felt as if we were transported from Ohio's late winter, to a blossoming spring.



We visited several 'touristy' spots on this trip, the first for the children. I had never felt more of the American patriotism anywhere else than in DC!



Clearly, George Washington, and his presence, was everywhere. From Mt. Vernon, his not so humble abode, to everything else imaginable with his namesake (highways, memorials, buildings, streets...the father of this country is very well revered).



There were also countless memorials, monuments, national-everything from archives, to museums, to cathedral. We paid respect to many of these, but did not even scratch the surface.



We also visited with friends, old and new. We shared meals, and well as stories from as far back as 30 years ago, or just a few weeks back.



There is no question we will be returning to the capital city in the near future, especially knowing that spring seems to make its appearance there sooner than elsewhere (near by).



Oh DC...we did enjoy thee.

Spring in DC

The earth laughs with flowers.

For Japan

One of the few stories from childhood that stuck with me until today is Sadako and the thousand paper cranes.

The story, about a girl suffering from cancer, as a result of the radiation from the atomic bomb in WWII. Sadly, Sadako's story is appropriate again today.


It is hard not to be emotional thinking about the country of Japan and her people right now.

We have prayed, donated, sent good thoughts their way. They will remain in our thoughts and prayers for a long time to come.

Another Batch

Another batch of yogurt, a little more confidence. This time I think I was even making something else while the milk was heating up (!!). I would not recommend doing that if you are just starting out because the milk can heat up fast, and you don't want anything to happen to so much goodness that you are about to turn into even more goodness.

My little chef

And her brother (on the other side of the counter). They were busy making dinner the other night. The late afternoon sun was streaming in. I could not help but record the moment.

March 11

Snow, we meet again. You are so reluctant to leave! I do thank you for spreading your white fresh cover over the grey bareness of our days. Thank you...and goodbye.

Behind the scene

I had a lot of fun today taking photos of the making of a pizza parlor. From dough-kneading, to sauce making, to pie-spinning. I found myself liking these behind-the-scene moments. Here are just two images from my fun 'work' morning.

Early Spring comforts

I still remember the morning when I walked down the stairs, stumbling in my slumber. The sun was still a couple of hours away from rising. I turned on the light and took a peek at the thermostat. It read: 0.

I trust that we won't have another day like that for many more months, even though I know in my heart that this Spring like weather could turn any moment, sending us back to frigid, snowy days. But one can have faith, yes?

Inside our house, there are signs of spring. The tomato seedlings have sprouted, bulb flowers abound. There have even been days when the windows are open to let in some fresh, clean spring air.

In the oven, however, the comfort of early Spring like a David-Tanis-Roasted-Chicken, still reminds us that the cold days are not completely behind us, just yet.

This roasted chicken is a joy to make, really. I prefer to cook chicken this way than any other. Just flatten the bird, rub with fresh crushed garlic, olive oil, salt, pepper, and some herbs (rosemary does wonders). Decorate the surface of the bird with a few rounds of lemon, and roast at 400 for about 1.5 hours (depending on the size of the chicken).

The gravy materials await on the bottom of the pot (I use a large enamel cast iron pot). A little water to flush out the goodness, a little sprinkle of flour to thicken it. Salt and pepper to taste. And there, you have a feast before your eyes.