On the verge of another road trip

Craig, Louis, Fattie, and I leave on Sunday for a long road trip in my minivan. I lie in bed surrounded by all of my things that I've amassed in the last 8 months of relative stability (which is to say, only 3 long road trips, countless miles and hours commuting between Minnesota and Wisconsin, and two places of residence). I have at least four dresses, a guitar and mandolin that I don't know how to play, the guidebooks I couldn't bear to not have on hand, and clothes for field work, city life, and Arizona....













This is my fourth winter in a row of traveling. In 2008, I hiked and biked across North Carolina (or nearly so). In 2009, I hitchhiked up the west coast. In 2010, I traveled in Southeast Asia. And this year? Craig, Fattie, and I will kick off the New Year by traveling, partly with our friend Louis, to the west coast, south from Portland to San Diego, before heading east to Tucson, Austin, New Orleans, and Atlanta on our way back to work, once more, in North Carolina next spring on the Jessamine project. It's a bondafide almost-circumnavigation of the United States!

Funemployment

I am sitting alone in the kitchen, surrounded by dirty dishes. I am marooned in the house. Staging a sit-in because my car is stuck in the suburbs with my boyfriend until tomorrow, and there is a Buffalo-sized snow storm outside.

Craig and I drove to Madison on Thursday, to see Trampled by Turtles, and meet up with tons of people. If you have not seen Trampled by Turtles live, you need to watch this video, and then figure out when you can go see them live. If you are in the Twin Cities, 3 of the members of TBT are doing a side project as "Dead Man Winter" playing at the Turf Club every Tuesday in December.

So, naturally, I have been listening to Trampled by Turtles, finishing my Teach for America application, and making baguettes and more carrot soup. I used the same carrot soup recipe as in my last post, replacing the herbs with 1 T of fresh grated ginger. I haven't gotten out of my pajamas today. But, I MADE BAGUETTES! And it is a snow day.

If you like following directions, you can get them here. If you like making up things, try my (relatively) lazy adoption:














French baguettes for people without good supplies or patience to look up words:
[Warning: it takes 4 hours & makes 3 baguettes]

1 1/2 c warm water
1 tsp yeast
3 1/4 c all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp sea salt

1. Mix dough. Add dry ingredients to water, mix with a spatula. Let rest, covered, for 20 minutes.

2. Knead the dough. Dust counter and hands with flour, turn dough onto the counter, and knead for about 10 minutes, adding a little flour as needed to keep it from sticking. Try not to add too much flour, because it makes the dough denser. Stop when the dough is elastic and looses its stickiness.

3. Ferment the dough. This means let it rise, covered in an oiled bowl, until it is 1 1/2 the size, about 45 minutes, at room temperature.

4. On a floured surface, pat the dough into a 6" x 8" rectangle, and fold it over itself like a business letter. Let it rise again, about 25%. This should take 45-60 minutes.

5. After bread has risen, preheat the oven to 450 degrees, with a baking sheet inside (or stone if you have one).

6. On a floured counter, cut the dough in thirds, so that each third is a rectangle. Carefully fold each rectangle in half, so that each piece is about the size and shape of a hot dog bun. Cover and let rest 10 minutes.

7. Carefully, shape each of the buns into baguettes, the length of your cooking sheet, and about 2" wide. Dust the top of the baguettes with flour and cover, let rise 30-40 minutes, until risen 1 1/2 times in size.

8. Carefully roll the baguettes onto the hot baking sheet, bake until caramel colored for 15-20 minutes.

9. Let cool 5 minutes on a rack.

Carrot Soup

I made this Moosewoodish recipe for Thanksgiving dinner. I recently discovered cleavers, which are a great way to chop carrots (louder + more dangerous = more fun). If the carrots are sweeter and not very starchy, the soup will be better.

2 lbs washed carrots, chopped
4 cups water or stock
1 1/2 t salt
3 T butter (can be less or olive oil)
1 c chopped onion
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/3 c chopped almonds
seasoning: 1 t each majoram, basil, thyme

1. Boil carrots and salt in water, covered for 10-15 minutes until mushable. Cool.
2. Sautee onions, garlic, nuts in butter until onions are clear (medium heat). Add seasoning and cook a couple more minutes.
3. Blend everything together.

to the East Coast and back

Craig and I took a last minute trip back to Buffalo for Thanksgiving, swinging out to New Haven for a side trip. These are our adventures, as captured intermittently on film.




Gary, Indiana








Ellicottville, NY










New Jersey Turnpike








Manhattan, NYC










New Haven, CT








Massachusetts Appalachian Trail









Presque Isle, PA









Ohio










Milwaukee, WI

Goodbye Wisconsin

We wrapped up our work in Wisconsin, attended a celebration of chicken research with our friends Kim and Rich, trudged into the woods one last time to fix fences, packed up the house for good, and left.

At the chicken dinner, we sampled all 6 varieties of chickens raised for study. Kim had worked up some charts, showing which breeds were most active and the most efficient at incorporating feed into body weight.













Mostly, this is about the cupcakes Lauren and I made for the dinner. Try them. They have 3 kinds of liquor in them: car bomb cupcakes, after the drink.

Shakshuka

I took a craigslist ride cross country a couple years ago with a tall Isreali man named Ofer. We stopped in Reno, and couchsurfed with Sierra and her Finnish boyfriend Niilo. We made them an Isreali dinner - Shakshuka. It was this tomato-egg dish that ended up being amazing. Unlikely, considering the visual grossness of poaching eggs in tomato sauce.

I hadn't thought about shakshuka (but who could forget a word like that?) since then. Until my culinarily-adventurous roommate Lauren brought it up. Food is one of our most discussed items. After the weather and Glee... and she told me about this dish she had found online. And we tried it. Sometime this summer, when it was still possible to sit on the porch and eat. SO AMAZING.

























Fast forward a couple of months. Lauren and I speak in allusions, not sentences. ("You know, the thingy") We have another week of work and rural Wisconsin living left. We didn't think shakshuka would happen again. Until we discovered that we had not only a can of tomatoes, but also an excess of eggs left over. Fate? Yes. I am going to miss Lauren, and Wisconsin. Where did these 6 months go?

Shakshuka: this recipe
Pitas: Lauren's research and experimentation, as follows (it isn't magic, but it is close to magic)













3 c flour (bread or all-purpose)
1.5 t salt
1 T sugar
1 package yeast (2 1/4 t loose yeast)
1 1/3 c water
2 T olive oil

Combine dry ingredients
Add oil and water, combine to form ball
Knead for 10 minutes
Let rise until doubled (1 hour to 90 min)
Punch down, divide into 8 balls
Rest 20 min under towel
Heat oven to 400-425 degrees, with a cookie sheet or pizza pan inside.
Roll out balls to a thickness of 1/8" on a floured surface
Flick or spray a little water onto heated pan, and place pitas onto it 2 at a time
Cook 3 minutes, or until they begin to brown and (hopefully) puff
Allow oven to heat up between pitas.

Windstorms, Weepies & Depriving low-income toddlers of the best halloween costumes

I am wrapped completely up in my sleeping bag. I just ate my dinner in bed (I think this may become a new ritual). It SNOWED last week. I'm internally sputtering in disgust. How is summer already over? How is not only summer, but also October, over? How are all of the leaves on the ground? Usually, I think I flow a little bit better with the seasons. I appreciate the gradations, the contrasts, etc. But for some reason, this year I am pissed.

Like most of the middle of the country, we experienced a giant gusty storm last week. Lauren and I stayed at home, afraid of getting nailed in the head with fallen trees. Yes, we could wear hard hats, but what good is a hard hat when a TREE falls on you? So, most of the storm we watched from the windows. By the end of the day, we were feeling guilty for wimping out on work. The next day, we were vindicated when we saw this giant downed hemlock right next to where we park:













In other recent events, I lived out a rather tame fantasy of mine. I really wanted to meet The Weepies. Last week, I went to see them in Minneapolis and the concert was amazing. I had made them a key lime pie (I know, kind of weird and creepy...) but was too nervous to bring it into the concert. Lauren, Janna, and I waited after the show to meet them. Deb (the lady of the duo) went back to the bus to chill with her newborn baby, but Steve came out and talked with us. He was so friendly that I told him about the pie. He said something along the lines of, "Oh you should totally go and get that," (I told you! The Weepies are amazing!), and I ran to the car and back, clutching the pie. I wasn't hyperventilating, exactly, but I was getting that heavy sweat/ trouble breathing symptomatic of nervous excitement. We ended up going to the bar with The Weepies' band and crew for a few hours. My first beer gave me heartburn because I was so excited. Yep.











Halloween in Madison. Lauren and I got some sweet little kid costumes at a thrift store.

Wisconsin Concrete Park

This is our local tourist attraction (you'll notice that "attraction" is singular). I've been meaning to put photos out there on the world wide web for everyone to enjoy. All of the slightly-creepy works are by Fred Smith, who was a retired, illiterate woodsman who began making the sculptures when he was 64 years old. By the time he died at age 90, in 1976, he had created 200 pieces. That tall guy? Paul Bunyon, of course.

Bloody fritters

If I ever become a world-famous collector of weird recipes, I am going to write a book called "Vegetable Junkies" and it will be filled with ways to make vegetables bad for you. Try this.













1 c grated raw potatoes
1 c grated cooked beets
quarter of a grated onion
1 egg white
quarter cup flour
salt+pepper

Mix together, fry until golden brown in 1/4" veggie oil on both sides.
They are bright red inside, and delicious. This is how we get our kicks in Wisconsin.

What a Pheasant Weekend!

A little diddy: Craig and I are driving back from the store and see a bird lying on the side of the highway. "What was that?" he asks.
"I think it may have been a pheasant," I reply. There is silence for a moment.
"Should we go back?" he asks.
"Yes," I say, and we pull a U-turn, and return to the bird. It is still warm, and beautiful. Giggling, we scoop the bird up, dump it in our cooler, and return to his cabin to put my new bird butchering knowledge to use. The leg and breast meat is in the freezer now, but I will give an update once we try it in a couple of weeks. Look at that grin of pride on my face.














I went hiking on the St. Croix River too, but that wasn't nearly as exciting.

Knuckle blisters

I drove my van (150,000 miles strong) out east a couple weeks ago for a trip back home. My adventures included my friend Kate's wedding, visiting with great friends who I have known for ages, and a 3 day semi-tortuous 90-mile canoe race in the Adirondicks. Until I get less lazy, it will have to be a told in photos.

















Kate and Sachin














Making grape juice (it turned out amazing following these instructions)

























Making rhubarb jam with homemade pectin

And canoeing 90 miles in Adirondick National Park.

Franconia Sculpture Park

Guess What?

Last Saturday, I spent close to 9 hours helping to slaughter 150 chickens at a nearby farm. This isn't any old farm, either. In college, I spent spring break with 4 friends in Wisconsin, backpacking and helping out at a sheep farm during lambing season. A lot of northern Wisconsin looks similar - the usual matrix of mixed pine/maple/ash forests with farmland, so that when I arrived in northern Wisconsin this summer, I felt dim recognition, but had no idea that I was a mere 5 miles down the road from that sheep farm!

It took me a month to bike down the road to the farm, which is run by this wonderful duo, Kim and Rich. It must have been surreal to see me biking up their path, 3 years after I had visited before. A lot had changed in those 3 years. They had transitioned from raising sheep, which they milked for artisan cheese, to a mixed meat CSA. (Unfortunately, the nearest market for ethically raised animals is in Madison, 4 hours to the south of the farm, but nonetheless, their first year has been successful.) I promised to come by again, and two months later, I was far overdue for a visit.

My roommate and I biked down with a conciliatory apple pie one afternoon. Kim invited us to eat some with her (topped with fresh whipped cream....). This was the first weekend I had been in town for 2 months, and coincidentally was also one of their big slaughter days. Lauren and I volunteered to come help out, and showed up at 6 am in old jeans and our big rubber boots. I had never slaughtered anything before. We had an assembly line, almost exactly as Michael Pollen describes it in The Omnivore's Dilemma. Kim would bring in the chickens, turn them upside down in four tall funnels, so that their heads emerged from the bottom. With the obvious expertise of a women who has been around this process her whole life, Kim would cut through the main artery on the chicken's neck and let them bleed out onto a trough of woodchips below. The next portion was the most disconcerting to me... after a couple of minutes of sporadic muscle movements, the spasms would get really strong. It was the proverbial "chicken running around with his head off" spasms and sometimes they were so strong that the chickens would flip out of the cones and we would have to chase them across the room. As the day wore on, this became more routine.

When the chickens were finished, Lauren and I would grab a couple of feet in each hand and dip them in hot water for a minute. Next, we would drop the chickens in a big cylindrical plucker with spray jets, rubber spikes, and a spinning bottom. It kind of reminded me of a water theme park ride fused with a medieval torture device. When the chickens were de-feathered, we would pass them off to the eviserating crew - Rich and Sharon, who cut off the feet and head, pulled out the inards, and washed the carcass. Tessa, a spunky 13 year old (who just killed her first bear this Fall, by the way), weighed and packaged the chickens.

The process could not have been done more consciously or humanely, but I never thought I would eat a chicken again at the end of the day. My mind was numb, and I had chicken shit, innards, and feathers all over my boots. All I could think by the end of the process what the nursery-rhyme-like anthem, "Guess what? Chicken butt. Guess who? Chicken poo." I had seen so much chicken butt and chicken poo. Guess what we got to take home with us?

A chicken! The next day (I know, shameless), we roasted the chicken. Craig came to visit, and had been wanting to try a chicken that is cooked with a beer can inside of it. It was so amazing. Everything was moist, the sauce was spicy and beery, and we devoured the chicken. This is the recipe that we used. Try it.