Remembering Roots

Rhubarb pie for breakfast and the tones of home linger softly on my tongue. Each bite is infused with more than rhubarb and sugar, but rather the spice of memories filling in the spaces.

The weight of history presses on my tongue.

I have no idea what just rhubarb tastes like. To someone who has never had it, I cannot even imagine what it must be like. But I am the world’s best food critic if you want to know what rhubarb laced with memories tastes like. 

I can tell you about seeing my mom chop it up into bite-size pieces and the way it made me feel taken care of. My eyes are barely peering over the counter top, her soft beautiful belly just at head height: the perfect height where I can lean gently in and let her take all my weight. 

I can tell you what the garden tastes like. My small feet press an inch down into the freshly turned earth baked by the sun. Scooping up a handful of dirt only to let it drop between my fingertips. The feeling of a tiny weed squished between sausage toddler fingers. 

I have no idea what just rhubarb tastes like.

But rhubarb pie--I can’t tell how much sugar is added, or whether the dough was made correctly, or whether there is too much cinnamon. 

All I can taste is the sweetness of innocence, the pillow of my mothers belly, the brittle warmth of summertime, and dirt under tiny toes. All mixed together, joined together by unlikely forces, dancing together in a never-ending parade.

Home

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie!

Making a pie crust is much simpler and substantially less daunting than most people think. Don’t let making pie crust feel too hard to stop you from doing it; the results from a homemade pie are infinity better than a crust from the store. (unless it’s Mary-Ann Steele baking J

We often forget about our hands as tools and reach for the butter cutter or spatula. Let this recipe be a true hands-on experience. Get your hands in the dough, the strawberries and the rhubarb. You’ll be able to taste the love and marvel at the versatility of our hands. The best part is having less dishes to wash at the end of it!

It is simply really, just let your hands do the work and don’t over work the dough.

Pie crust—For top and bottom pie

2 ½ cup flour

1 tbl sugar

½ tsp salt

8 oz butter cut in ½ inch pieces

½ cup ice water

Make sure the butter and water are cold to start. I believe in using our hands as tools, but some people prefer a butter cutter.

Mix the flour, sugar and salt together. Add the butter and mix with your hands until the mixture resembles peas and crumbs. Peas and crumbs. Repeat it to yourself. Once the mixture resembles peas and crumbs add the ice water. Depending on the day, the season and how hot your hands are, you might need more or less water. Start with the ½ cup and fluff the water into the mixture. The key here is gentle coaxing and fluffing. You are not trying to force, knead, or muscle your way into this pie dough. It is a delicate creature and likes to be treated as such. Gently fluff the water into the dough until it just begins to come together. You should still be able to see little pieces of butter in the dough. Shape it into 2 balls. Again the trick here is being gentle. Coax and ease it into two balls, now is not the time for packing it into your hand like play-dough. Once you have it in two balls tuck it into saran wrap and refrigerate it while you make the filling.

**Note: you do not always have to refridgerate the dough before rolling it out, but I believe that it comes out better if it is given time to rest before baking.

Strawberry Rhubarb Filling

4 baskets of strawberries (2 boxes)

1 tbl sugar

1 tbl flour

1 tsp cinnamon

10 stalks rhubarb

1 cup sugar

1 ½ cup water

I recently found this new trick for rhubarb pies and I absolutely love it! My rhubarb pies are always either soupy but flavorful or the right consistency but dull from the cornstarch or flour. This trick came from the book “The Sweet Life” which a secret fairy gifted me this winter and has been a source of inspiration for sweet treats and new ideas.

For the rhubarb: Chop the rhubarb into ½ inch pieces, and combine in a saucepan with 1 cup sugar and 1 ½ cup water. Bring the sauce to a boil and let boil for 3 minutes without stirring. Then take off heat and allow to cool for 10 minutes. In “The Sweet Life” she strains the mixture with cheesecloth and a strainer over a bowl. If you’re like me, then you probably don’t have cheesecloth lying around. I work in a professional kitchen and I couldn’t even find cheesecloth today. So I just used a strainer and it seemed to work just fine. Put the strainer over a bowl and let the mixture strain until all the juice has come out.

Keep the rhubarb juice. You can use it to spice up your water, thicken for an ice cream sauce, or make fruit soup.

Use the rhubarb compote for the filling to this pie!

Now, for the strawberries, slice them into thin slices and combine in a bowl with the flour, sugar, cinnamon and rhubarb compote. Roll out your pie dough and gently place into a pie pan. Spoon the filling into the pie (be sure to use your hands for this, and then lick them afterwards!). Roll out the second piece of dough and place on top. Fold the edges over, crimp them, smash them with your fingers: your pick. Then design a steam hole (I usually do a heart, sun or baby face) and use a paring knife to cut the steam hole into the pie.

Crack an egg and a splash of cream into a bowl and brush it on top of the pie and sprinkle with sugar for a beautiful finish.

Bake at 400 for about an hour, but check it regularly. It is done when the top is golden brown and everyone in your house is begging you to take it out and eat. 

Beautiful! Make two pies and give one away to your neighbor. 

Happy pie eating! Fill your homemade crusts with local fruit and berries. Let yourself feel proud of your homemade crust and remember to eat it slowly and softly, allowing your tongue to take in the sweet, the sour and the love of it all. 

Out Breath and Sweet Potato Muffins

It has been so long since I have written!

My apologies. My life has been filled with twists and turns, cooking and baking, loving and fighting, and lots of driving.

We are settling into our house in Oakland and I am finishing my year at LEAPNOW. I am learning and loving and trying to be human in all of it.

Regular posts will follow as my life takes a quick out-breath, before another 8-day retreat as students return from all over the world.

It is a time for harvest as I look back to September, but for today I simply write with a poem and recipe. The muffins don't have any sugar in them and break open with steam fresh out of the oven. I hope they warm your heart and soul.

Do you also Run

Do you also run

Hands heaping

overflowing with gasping muffins

To your neighbors door.

Begging for a sigh,

one simple steaming bite

Do you also plead with the Universe

For a slap-your-face sign

Dripping wet

Asking Why

Do you also yell

I will never be good enough

At anything.

The only hope I have

For this dance of no hope

Is that I might be good enough at being human

I might be good enough at being human

Summer's Sweet Potato Muffins

Adapted from “Good to the Grain”

1 medium sweet potato--baked and peeled

1 cup whole wheat flour

1 cup unbleached flour

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1 tbl cinnamon

1/2 tsp nutmeg

1/2 tsp allspice

1 cup oats

2 oz butter

2 eggs

1 cup buttermilk

1/2 cup yogurt

8 dates--pitted and diced 

Preheat oven to 350. Combine dry ingredients in a bowl. Mix together butter, eggs, buttermilk, and yogurt, and add half the sweet potato. Combine with dry ingredients, then mix in the rest of the sweet potato and dates. Mix until just combined, and then spoon into muffin tins.

Bake at 350 for 20 min. 

I want you to Look

I want you to look down

Do you see mud?

If not

Move.

I want you to look up

Do you see birds?

Do you see sky?

Do you see the woman you love?

If not

Move. 

           

I want you to look in

Do you see your heart?

Do you like its color?

Do you believe in its strength?

Can you see it beating?

If not,

Change.

I want you to look in the mirror

Do you see yourself?

Do you like who you see?

I hope you do.

Beautiful Heartbreaking Human

It grew on crooked lumber and broken glass

It grew in potholes and highway divides

It grew in sidewalk splits and rusted drains

It will grow. Trust this. It will grow. Whatever we plant will grow, so make it worthwhile.

Our love and California poppies line the sides of the road and fill the spaces between hope and grief.

We must carry grief, gratitude, and grace. And we must do it humbly and nobly.

There is no greater gift and pain than the opportunity to be human.

There is no task more important.

Give your heart to itself and to the world. Learn the dance of space between and fill it. Keep your bones in your skin and keep your skin a part of humanity.

Believe in magic. It is the only thing that will carry you through. Bend your knees and say thank you, and then rise to your feet and give it all back.

The world is in the palm of your hand. It was placed there gently the moment you took your first breath.

We must carry grief, gratitude, and grace. And we must do it humbly and nobly.

There is no greater gift and pain than the opportunity to be human.

There is no task more important.

Eggs

We are beginning to create our home. As we nest into our space we slowly add pieces of furniture, hang bells and tapestries, light candles and put flowers in vases.
We also fill our refrigerator and pantry with food. I do not truly feel home until I have chocolate, butter and eggs. These are the three ingredients I need most for anything nourishing and until they have found their way into my cupboard, I am restless.

I find solace in eggs. They are extraordinarily adaptable, mixing their way into anything sweet or savory. They can be dropped in soup, mixed in cookies, they can be fried, scrambled or poached, they can be beaten and whipped and still hold their own. With eggs in your fridge, the world begs a creation.
So last night we experimented with eggs. We bought quail eggs for the first time!

Aren't they just beautiful?!

I had never quite understood why anyone would eat a quail egg, but they were relatively cheap at the magnificent Berkeley Bowl and so we decided to experiment. We boiled them for 4 min which seemed to be the perfect amount of time for a "barely hard" boiled egg. They are so cute and make the sweetest little boiled eggs, but I could hardly notice a difference in taste between this and a chicken egg. 

I concluded that they are beautiful and quaint, and appropriate for garnishing a salad or toasted rye bread with gruyere cheese on top. 

We had also heard that if you take an egg and encase it in a long sleeve shirt, and spin quickly, the egg will scramble within itself. Then after boiling, you can crack the egg and have a pre-scrambled egg. 

Although obviously a fun and exciting trick, our efforts were proved mute and our scrambled boiled egg turned out to be simply a "harder than usual to peel" regular egg. Perhaps we did not spin the egg fast enough, but either way our efforts turned out to be in vain. 

Eggs are entire worlds encapsulated in a fragile shell, but are also strong and hearty and hold their strength. I love eggs. I think they are incredible and an endless source of experimentation and nourishment. 

If left untouched, eggs would eventually hatch and fly. Let us then too hatch and fly and remember that we too can be coaxed into incredible things. Let the soft world of an egg in our hand remind our own hands to be gentle with themselves. Hatching is not always easy, and half the time we are thrown into a boiling pan of water. So too will our hearts be thrown into hot pans, but let us hold up against the heat. We too are meant to fly. So lets eat our eggs, fill our bellies, and throw our shells to the ground!  

Move

We moved to Oakland! 

That is the big news for this week and also the reason for the lack in consistent posts. Our time was packed with looking, driving, calling, and moving our small world of "things" into a new home! 

 We walked dogs. Big toad and little toad.

 We ate clams and oysters for the first time.

We played in the water

Gypsy played in the sand

All in all it was a whirlwind and I am still catching up to having a new home, my partner and dog nearby, and remembering that wherever my feet are planted the earth will always hold me. Here, there, and everywhere in between. 

Happy first week of April! I hope the showers and flowers find you warm and full. The earth is so full of incredible secrets and good fortune. Remember that there is always a flower or a feather, or perhaps you walked into a kiss, or a rainstorm, or even the sweet reminder that the world is always there to catch you. 

To falling, to finding, to loving, to diving, to laughing, to fighting, to prayers and to change. I light my candle to all of this.