Thursday, October 10, 2013

The thing about apple crisp...

Yesterday I posted a picture on Facebook of the apple-pear crisp I made. The ladies who prepared lunch in my elementary school cafeteria set the apple crisp standard for me - a perfect balance of fruit and crunch.  In those days they actually cooked the food from scratch at North Mianus!  Some years later I found this topping in a recipe for fresh rhubarb crisp and I've used it ever since:  1 cup flour, 1/2 cup raw rolled oats, 1 cup light brown sugar, 1/2 cup melted butter or margarine.  Sometimes I use granola for part of the oats and reduce the sugar.

I was also inspired by a special fruit delivery from my friend, Ikuko.  Last week she dropped off a few Asian pears and yesterday she delivered some Mutsu apples along with a dozen Italian prune plums. I think she got them at Blue Jay Orchard.  I decided make a plum torte (Marian Burros' recipe is the best) but wanted a way to easily share tomorrow with my former colleague, Pat. I decided to try making small, individual tortes rather than the larger one described in the recipe.  Here's the result. Not bad but I think next time I will cut the plums in smaller pieces and try to arrange them more artfully.


Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Aunti Randi's Curry Kit


Last May I went to Sandpoint, Idaho to be part of a loving bedside vigil for Aunti Randi, my mother's younger sister.  She passed from this life as she had requested, looking out on the Pend Oreille River, surrounded by  family and friends.  During our stay, my cousins and I explored Aunti Randi's pantry and freezer - in part to see what was available for mealtime, but also as cultural anthropologists, investigating the ways artifacts reveal people's lives.  We were not surprised to find bags of frozen rhubarb and berries, key ingredients in her famous Rhurazz jam.  We noted a large basket in the pantry marked "curry fixings."  Randi learned how to make curry early on in her marriage to please Uncle Roger who was born and raised in India, the son of medical missionaries. Several days ago I received a box in the mail from my Seattle cousins after they cleared out Aunti Randi's home before it was sold.  Powerful smells and fond memories of curry dinners long ago flooded my senses.  Proust had his madeleines but I have Aunti Randi's curry kit!

Friday, March 8, 2013

Did I used to be like this?

I've been interested in ethics ever since I took a graduate course many years go.  The take away for me then was that there is a difference between ethical and legal.  I also enjoy reading The Ethicist in the Sunday Times Magazine.  As a school  administrator I sometimes got involved with interpreting and enforcing our town's code of ethics.  Over time I became more and more convinced that most people really want to do the right thing, but sometimes they need a little help understanding the finer points of ethical behavior.  Then there's the issue of perception vs. reality.  So when I learned our local Ethics Board did not seem to be doing the work they were appointed to do, I offered my services.  Time went by and nothing happened until two current members of the Board were proposed for reappointment.   OK, I said to myself, it doesn't matter if I'm on the Board but is it a good idea to have people who haven't been doing their jobs continue?  So I wrote a letter to the editor expressing my consternation.  Several weeks passed and I learned that my letter had apparently disqualified me from further consideration.  "No problem," I said to the  terrific elected official in his mid 30's, who conveyed what he described as "bad news."  I told him not to worry, this was not about me!  I felt I had done my civic duty by offering to serve and by highlighting what I viewed as the current board's shortcomings.  He listened thoughtfully and apologized.  I again stated, this was not about me.  He repeated that he felt badly about being the bearer of bad news.  After we ended our conversation I started wondering if I used to think the end game was about me rather than the well-being of our community.  Sometimes getting older feels good.