It is a crazy time.  Anyone else having trouble concentrating on basic tasks?  For instance, my urogynecologist told me I should do Kegel exercises while I brush my teeth, and my dental hygienist told me I really should be brushing my teeth for 3 minutes at a time because I have plaque, and trying to do both these things at once (Kegel exercises plus dental thoroughness) was already a strain on my limited powers of concentration even before Trump got elected.  Now you can just forget about any of these things getting done right, because with my mouth full of toothpaste I am thinking about the electoral college and casual racism and Syria.  Wait, I forgot to squeeze!  

You'd think that, with all these things on our collective minds, it would make it easier to write, but instead it makes it harder.  The sheer volume of thought and emotion and alarming information slamming in from the public sphere, in conjunction with whatever we've got going on privately, is a lot to sift through.  I am watching friends tune in and out again.  In, because there is the illusion that maybe vigilance will keep us safe.  Out, because they are swiftly overwhelmed by what feels sometimes like a cloud of flying shrapnel.  It is unclear what we can do to save ourselves when the answer seems to be, always, "everything."

​So intimidating; thankfully there are tens of millions of us.

Meanwhile, while apparently not one of those tens of millions are looking, somebody sneaks into the public park and cuts down the old-growth cedar tree you loved.

On Monday night, I went to a thing.  It was called "Breaking Bread Together," or rather we called it that, having just invented it.  Basically, it was an activist potluck.  Because it was held in somebody's living room, it was limited to a group of 18 people-- the first 18 to show enthusiasm, not the most important 18 people in my very activist town, although there was a city councilman there in regular-guy mode.  We brought soup and bread and vegetables and cookies and cakes.  Two different people brought roasted cauliflower with pomegranate seeds.  There weren't enough dishes to have both a bowl and a plate, or both a fork and a spoon, so I filled my little soup bowl repeatedly with different things and ate brussels sprouts and roasted cauliflower hungrily with my spoon.  We sat on chairs or on the floor, in a wide circle around this guy's living room coffee table, and formally introduced ourselves one at a time, and talked about what was important to us and how we were feeling that night, Dec. 19, the day the electors voted for Donald Trump as President of the United States.  We also tried to put together some kind of loose viral model for a series of similar dinners to be held by all of us, and others we would invite and recruit, all over our community.​

On a Tuesday evening, my husband and I went out to Capital Fringe to see my stepson's girlfriend perform in Over Her Dead Body, an 80-minute theater piece composed of bluegrass murder ballads, with full bluegrass band and five top-notch singers (including my stepson's girlfriend, who has a beautiful, deep, North Carolina voice-- and somewhat macabre sensibility-- perfectly suited for the material).  I would have loved this even if a family member were not performing.  I would have seen it again.  (But it is sold out.)  I hope they are able to take this show further than Capital Fringe, because it is wonderful.  Review here.  (Update: Over Her Dead Body won Best Overall show according to the audience awards, and is moving on to the Millenium Stage at the Kennedy Center!  See video here.)

After the show (which, due to tight Fringe scheduling, was at 6:30 pm), husband and I were trudging back up Florida Ave., to the nearest Metro station which is over a mile away, and wishing we would encounter something for dinner.  It was still light, the most amazing huge orange sun setting over the city street.  Only a single restaurant offered itself, but its board outside proclaimed $2.75 tacos, so I convinced my husband it was a good idea.  It was.  The Far East Taco Grille.  Far East?  Tacos?  Maybe just because it was on the east side of the city?

Nope.  In some ways these are conventional tacos: you choose flour or corn tortilla, several types of salsa are available.  But the fillings are things like Korean short rib, spicy pork, tofu.  Topping styles include a kimchi version.  Clearly this is a Korean-fusion joint, just like where I work, only so different.  Better.   Though the menu is more limited and it is just counter service.  I order two tacos: flour tortilla, short rib, "#15 sauce," banh mi-style toppings.  Short ribs cost $0.25 more each for tacos, so this meal cost $6 altogether, and it is perfect.  So, so good.  The short ribs are tender and delicious (better than those at our restaurant, maybe even better than the ones Scarlet made for me), the #15 sauce (whatever the hell that means) is a sweet and spicy Asian-influenced sauce, I suspect involving gochujang, and the banh mi toppings are pickly, spicy, sweet.  Total flavor bomb.  I think it would be overwhelming to eat more than two.  My husband ordered more conservatively, as he always does: spicy pork in a rice bowl with their simplest topping option of lettuce, cheese, and lime crema.  He said it was very good too.  In total we paid $20 (including a tip, which would be optional here) for one of the best meals I've had in a while.  I have no idea how they can make any money at all, charging $3 for tacos containing a substantial amount of expensive short rib, but GO THERE while it lasts.

Next day.  I've finally had time to organize my recipes and do a more extensive shopping trip at the Whole Foods, so (after a long, busy day at work) I have three dishes planned to cook this evening.  One is my second effort from Mridula Baljekar's Best-Ever Curry Cookbook, the Tandoori Chicken.  This time I buy the appropriate amount of chicken, and actually look up the spices involved in tandoori masala.  So I believe myself to have followed the directions fairly well.  I did blend my own tandoori masala out of spices I already possessed, instead of buying a prefab paste, so it's possible I missed out on some ingredients that might have been present in the paste... sugar, perhaps?  Because my chicken tasted nothing like what you get in an Indian restaurant.  (Perhaps it is just more authentically North Indian, as it appears in that section of the book.)

​Anyway, I managed to skin my whole chicken myself (with painful slowness, using kitchen scissors), a feat that used to be quite ordinary for home cooks, but of which I now feel inordinately proud.  It marinated for two hours in yogurt mixed with the tandoori spices, then roasted at a high temperature (475 degrees) for about 30 minutes.  Simple enough, except the chicken was not done after 30 minutes.  It looked  quite done on the outside, but close to the bone it was still soft and pink.  Returned to the oven and eaten after 15 more minutes, the cook on the chicken was still only barely adequate.  Another 10 minutes would have been better.

While the chicken was marinating, I made the Buttery Cayenne Pecans from the October 2015 issue of Bon Appetit.  These were a simple matter of melting butter, stirring in Worcestershire sauce and spices, tossing with the pecans, and roasting.  Kind of like the chicken, actually.  But more successful.  The one problem did not lie with the recipe: the pecans themselves were not very good.  I bought them in a package from Whole Foods, and they had the bitter aftertaste and discomfiting mouthfeel of unripe fruit.  The flavor was worse when raw, but they retained some of their bitterness even after roasting. 

​The third recipe was intended as the final Pie-of-the-Month for my husband, and was from this month's Bon Appetit via The Bitten Word.  The Bitten Word guys had made this Blueberry and Corn Crisp, and concluded that it had potential, even though it seemed not to have enough corn in it, and the topping did not brown well.  They discussed the desirability of trying it again with double the corn, and a blast of higher-temperature baking in hopes of achieving a true "crisp."  So I made the recipe myself, incorporating these tweaks.  Nope.  Before baking, I had a full 1-inch (or deeper!) layer of corn-y crumbs on top of the blueberries.  During baking, almost this entire layer sank into the bubbling berries, leaving only a little topping peeking out.  Even that didn't brown much.  So, to the extent that there was any perceptible crumb topping at all, it was mushy and dissolved in your mouth (and not in a good way).  Definitely not "crisp."  The corn kernels (whose quantity I had doubled) simply dropped out of the topping and mixed with the blueberries, creating a somewhat odd fruit filling instead of a cornbread-y crumb.  Your experience will probably not differ, as other Bitten Word commenters seemed unhappy too.  It was not inedible, but I can confidently fail to recommend this recipe.

​All in all, it was a disappointing dinner.  The pecans were all right.

Breakfast: on a non-ordinary day, I have an ordinary breakfast.  Water with lime, black coffee, smoothie made from almond milk, honey yogurt, hemp protein powder, avocado, strawberries, and lots of swiss chard, because the latter is starting to wilt badly and I am going away for three days.

Then we drive to Pennyworth Lock and start our hike.  The bulk of our experience is detailed at that other link.  I'd intended to write up a food diary of the hike as well-- even kept notes in my little red notebook, about what we ate and under what circumstances-- but when I got home I found those notes interested me very little.  First of all, how much can you write about trail mix and crackers?  Secondly, and more important, I was ready to end the daily food diary.  It has been an interesting experiment and writing exercise, but is immensely time-consuming and requires an attention to minutiae that eventually becomes wearying.  I also feel that the world now knows enough about exactly what I eat on a daily basis.  (I would still like to know more about what OTHERS eat on a daily basis.  But we'll save that for another post.)

I reserve the right to continue writing about things I eat... just not everything, not right now.  Ironically, I have had less time lately to cook, due in part to all the incessant chronicling.  Also, less time to walk, and less time to write my murder mystery.  All things that are important.  Perhaps as important as eating.

Nevertheless, stay tuned, I shall continue to afflict you with this and that.

​June 27
An early, before-work breakfast: water with lime, coffee with half and half, smoothie made from vanilla almond coconut milk, honey yogurt, peanut butter, hemp protein powder, peach, strawberries, blueberries, frozen mango, and kale.  This one is not sweet at all, whereas yesterday's was almost cloying.  The main difference seems to be the banana.  Maybe I should start going with half a banana?

At work, all I have is a cup of decaf coffee, black.

When I get home about 2:30, I have a wonderfully wholesome lunch.  Leftover leek soup garnished with some creme fraiche, snipped tarragon and chives; a bowl of mixed raspberries, blueberries, and cherries; and some raw carrots and peppers.  I feel so virtuous.  I also have a cup of regular black coffee, and afterwards another cup of decaf with half and half. 

Shopping (Co-op): can of coconut milk, organic 1% lactose-free milk, half & half, organic lemon juice, quart of plain yogurt, cat treats, unsweetened almond milk, raw goat cheddar, seitan, 2 cans of pinto beans, a cantaloupe, 2 packages small corn tortillas, dried currants, coffee, 4 ears corn, 6 individual Brown Cow yogurts (assorted flavors), strawberries, cilantro, 4 limes, bananas, 4 avocados.  $91.

Dinner is slightly less virtuous, but still fruit-and-vegetable-centric, which is the way I like best to cook.  I roast some mixed root vegetables (the rest of the CSA beets, two farmer's market potatoes, an onion, some farmer's market carrots) with fresh marjoram; also make an apple-and-fennel salad with a lemon-mustard dressing.  My kid has long hated fennel, but recently expressed a desire to try it again.  So I bought fennel at the farmer's market (as well as the Gold Rush apples).  It turns out that, while they still do not love fennel, they no longer hate it.  They eat some; in particular, they seem to find the bulb more edible than the fronds, which of course it is.  So, a pretty good foray.  As an "entree," I just melt some goat cheddar onto slices of whole wheat bread, also from the farmer's market.

​I think I am mighty lucky to have a child who volunteers, of their own free will, to experiment with foods they dislike.  Next thing you know, they'll be eating cucumber.
 
June 28
Breakfast: lemon water, black coffee, smoothie made from vanilla almond coconut milk, honey yogurt, hemp protein powder, canned coconut milk, banana, cantaloupe, and swiss chard.  I totally forgot about my half-a-banana plan that I made yesterday.  Afterwards, I had some decaf with half & half.

At noontime, after my kid and I take a test-run with our new backpacks, another cup of regular coffee with half and half, followed by lunch.  Lunch is a bowl of mixed strawberries, blueberries, cherries, and cantaloupe; some raw carrot and pepper; and half a peanut butter-and-blueberry jam sandwich on whole wheat farmer's market bread.  Actually, the blueberries, cherries, carrot and pepper are from the farmer's market too.  I am eating like a queen.

​After lunch, I do some housecleaning, and don't go out until late afternoon to make a quick trip to REI.  I don't have the chance to have my usual mid-afternoon cup of decaf, and for that reason, or some other reason, I become ravenous while I am out.  There isn't an opportunity for food and drink until about 6 pm, when I stop at a bakery near home to buy the decaf coffee.  Of course, I feel I need some sort of snack, and end up buying a mushroom & cheese turnover.  In retrospect, I can see how a series of poor decisions led to my basically buying dinner an hour before cooking a second dinner at home.  The turnover isn't even very good, but I eat it because I paid for it.

Second dinner at home is vegan, because my kid's girlfriend is staying for supper.  I've had tacos on the brain ever since we had the worst tacos ever in small-town Virginia.  Tonight I put out some local corn tortillas that are not really very good (made in Virginia!  Coincidence?), pinto beans, sauteed seitan (both this and the beans flavored with chili and lime), avocado, tomato, shredded cabbage, onion, cilantro, corn sliced off the cob, green salsa, and bottled hot sauce.  Tacos are always fun, but they are more fun when your tortillas don't disintegrate into bits the minute you try and pick them up.  I have two tacos with kid and girlfriend, and then another one with my husband when he finally arrives home from work at about 9:45 pm.  Also a glass of sherry, which I do not quite finish.

At around 9:00, while waiting for my husband to get home, my kid and I drive through the rain to pick up our CSA box.  We run up the sidewalk to the house where it is delivered, getting soaked with huge drops of rain, and thunder crashing around us.  In the box: big green cabbage, 3 big white onions, 2 heads garlic, 4 cucumbers, 3 summer squash, carrots, leeks... and eggs!  Exciting!  Says farmer Mike about these eggs: "Eggs always start out mostly on the small side then increase in size as the hens gain experience." 
 
June 29
A work day.  Breakfast: water with lime, black coffee, smoothie made from almond milk, honey yogurt, peanut butter, hemp protein powder, banana, strawberries, cantaloupe, and swiss chard.

I didn't quite finish my coffee at home, so I have another cup of black coffee at work, followed by a cup of decaf with half and half.  By the time I finish that, it is almost time to go home (I don't have a lot of time to stand around and drink!)  At home, I have another cup of regular coffee with half and half, and lunch consisting of a leftover taco from last night, with all the fixings except beans, corn and cabbage (those are already gone); raw sliced cucumber and summer squash from the CSA; and a dish of mixed cantaloupe and cherries.  Oh, and one little hard-boiled egg, but the CSA eggs are too fresh: I can't peel it without taking most of the white away with the shell.

​After lunch, another cup of decaf with half and half.

About 4:30, I've recovered from work and go to Safeway to buy food for our hike, as well as supplies for my husband to use while we're gone.  Shopping: Pirate Booty (requested by kid), Wheaties, 2 cans cat food, 3 bags beef jerky, hot cocoa packets, big jug white vinegar, marshmallows, jar of Hershey's chocolate spread, graham crackers, Ritz crackers, Brookside dark chocolate clusters, 2 shrimp-flavored Cup-O-Noodles, 2 rolls paper towels, toilet paper, lactose-free milk, frozen pizza, Amy's frozen lasagna, free-range eggs, 2 cigarette lighters, mini hand sanitizer, rosemary bakery bread, Applegate bacon, nova salmon, bananas, Bing cherries, green grapes, shelled pistachios, Caesar Snapeas, 3 kinds of trail mix, organic baby carrots, strawberries, banana chips, dried apricots, dried broad beans, wasabi chick peas, 2 bags dried banana snacks.  $162.

Dinner is a quick affair, conducted in the midst of elaborately packing our gear for tomorrow.  2 little fried eggs each from the CSA farm, really good Applegate bacon, Safeway bakery rosemary sea salt toast with butter, a little mixed fruit (blueberries and apple from the farmer's market, plus strawberries).

I don't finish all my packing and prep-- plus quickly finishing this post-- until 11:30 at night, by which point I am hungry again, so I go to the kitchen and scarf down a leftover strip of bacon and half a glass of the fairly drinkable honey yogurt from the farmer's market.  That'll hold me.  However, even though it is already late, I have trouble sleeping.  I really wanted a good night's sleep before our hike, but instead I probably get a little over five hours, not nearly enough for me.  Midnight finds me in the kitchen again, yelling at my husband about waking me up by turning the light on and then drinking straight out of the milk carton, which I have forbidden him to do.  My finest moments occur at times like these.