How to Be Me

Collect yourself after a full day of teaching and hoist that backpack onto your shoulders, change into sneakers (if you ever changed out of them that day), and head down three flights of stairs to the downtown street where you work, then uphill to the central green spot, or Commons, that is the short-cut to your bus home. It is probably hot, so by the time you get on the bus you are sweating through your clothes and into the lining of your slightly-too-heavy jacket, fumbling in your pocket for the correct change, and maybe not coming up with it. If you are lucky, though, you will be rescued by a kind stranger, asking "Do you want change?" who when you look up turns out to be your daughter coming home from work, on the same bus.


You ride in silence, standing or gratefully sinking into a too-narrow seat, while the bus fights its way through rush hour traffic, taking twice the time it would normally to get to your stop. Off the bus, you start up the steep hill towards your daughter's house, arriving winded at the front door, now painted an attractive green to harmonize with all the trees and shrubs surrounding it.


Dogs within start to bark furiously as you fumble around with the key, using the other hand to reach into the mailbox and see if anything came for you. If you manage to avoid wet dog kisses and dropping your keys or bag in the ensuing hubbub at the door, congratulate yourself.


Into the now-lovely hallway, step onto a padded bamboo rug and luxuriate in the softness of a freshly painted vanilla light. For the house, after 3 months of hard slogging by the whole family, but especially by your daughter, is finished and has been put on the market. Now it is all summer, transformed from its dark and grungy former life into a blond, beautiful lushness with open views of the trees and flowers that envelop it. One can sit on the back deck and eat a meal with trees overhead and flowers all around. One get a breath of air and there is even, on most days, a bit of peace to be had, on the edge of activity of this busy city.


Despite the new kitchen with its dark gleaming counters, shiny new sink, cabinets that have been custom-coloured to match the new floor, you are a bit too tired after a long day of work to be inspired to cook like an Iron Chef. Instead you eat salad, baked potatoes with a quick broccoli and onion stir-fry and some nice fried tofu, spaghetti with a quick garlic, olive oil, pepper and cherry-tomato sauce, macaroni and tofu cheese, a quick curry, dahl and rice, or something else tried and true and easy.


You are not blazing trails in innovation now, you are eating to recover health and energy after four or five months of kitchen and whole-rest-of-the-house chaos. You are trying to enjoy the quiet in the house (except for those barking dogs) between the business of viewings. You are saving energy for keeping the house clean enough for visitors every day.


Did I forget to mention that you have a new job? You are now a teacher of adult newcomers to Canada. You are teaching them the communication, aka English, skills they will need to continue their education here or get a job. It is worthy and rewarding work, since they are so motivated and eager to learn and come from countries where that was difficult or even prohibited. Countries like Afghanistan, Kosovo, and Iran. Since you stepped in near the end, you are very busy creating lesson plans and curriculum in the last month before the program ends for this term.


When it does, in July, you will be going out to Vancouver to visit your sister and meet a dear friend. After that, who knows? Life may suddenly take a new turn, something sweet and surprising. There may be birds, and trees, and fresh air, and growing involved. You hope there will be time for lots of good food and recipes for new things. If there is, those faithful of your readers, and friends, who have stuck around through thick and thin will be able to read about it all right here.


Good Old Macaroni and Cheese for a Lazy Night

While I appreciate that there are many ways make it, from those that favour bechemel cheese sauces, to breadcrumbs-topped, baked in the oven versions, when I make GOMAC I really want just the basic goodness of cheese flavour stretched and sticky over a nice chewy pasta. No fuss, but still comforting and good.

Take a package of Tinkyada brown rice pasta (sorry, can't guarantee any other gluten-free kind, but the regular wheated is fine if you can have it). You can also use regular cheddar, if you eat dairy.

Fill up a big pot with water, add some salt and put on the lid until it boils. When it comes to a rolling boil, remove the lid and pour in the whole package. Give it a stir around to break up the pasta clumps.

Meanwhile back at the cutting board, get out 1 package of rice or tofu cheddar and 1 of mozzarella. You could use all cheddar, if you like. Cut off about half a package of each and then chop into thinnish slices about 1/4 inch by 1 or 2 inches long. You don't have to be exact; the thinness is more important than the length.

When the pasta is cooked to a nice al dente state (with a bit of bite but not raw in the centre), drain it in a colander and throw it back into the pot with the cheese on top. Take a fork and begin to stir the mixture. It will look as if the cheese is not going to melt in, but be patient. Just keep stirring it around and after a minute or so everything will meld together. Keep stirring until there are no more cheese lumps and it is a sticky glorious mess.

Add some salt and black pepper. Eat and enjoy.

It can be re-heated by adding a bit of water and stirring as you heat it. Watch to make sure that it doesn't burn. Or, for real laziness, of which I am definitely a proponent on working nights, just microwave. Eat fast, before it can rubber up.

Enjoy!

Note: I apologize for the lack of pictures here. Since my camera disappeared I have been borrowing my daughter's when I can, but access is a bit spotty. Please be patient, I'll try to put some up soon, both of the house and the GOMAC.

Love Fool

Love Foolosophy from Jamiroquai for pp. For this one you might need your dancing shoes, honey. Oooh.



And one more, live from Abbey Road Studios, Travelling Without Moving:

Gluten-free Tempura

I'm not quite sure why I have so few Japanese recipes posted. I suppose that when I was in Japan I assumed that most everyone could easily get Japanese food, so I concentrated on recipes that were mainly comfort food from home, or adaptations using Japanese ingredients.

But now, after being away from Japan for just over a year, I definitely miss Japanese food. I got a bit of a fix with a visit to Doraku Restaurant, where my family had an early Mother's day dinner last Friday night. The sushi was still good; the soba still tasty. But even so, there were dishes I couldn't have because they were made with flour. One thing that especially caught my eye and made me a little envious was the bowl of noodles my daughter had that was topped with some tasty looking tempura.

Tempura. As everyone in Japan, and probably many in North America know, tempura is the Japanese name for battered fried tidbits. Some of those tidbits are vegetables, and in fact the tastiest tempura is often made of them. Thinly sliced pumpkin (like our squash), shiso leaves (a herb not often found here but delicious with a tart addictive flavour) and even green pepper are among the stars in any Japanese tempura basket. Tempura is often served as the central dish of a "seto" a prix fixe meal that often includes miso soup, pickles, rice, and tea, maybe even salad or a small desert. It is high in calories because of the oil, but one would never call tempura, properly made, oily. Instead it has a thin crispy coating, while the vegetables inside are soft, flavourful, and even a bit juicy. It is a treat, plain and simple.

And Japanese tempura batter is the soul of simplicity. It is made from three ingredients only - egg yolk, flour, cold water. Dump them in a bowl, stir them up and that's it. Most of the work comes from the slicing and frying. The slicing is not onerous, though, because you don't need to cut that many vegetables unless you are feeding a crowd. You probably need only a few slices of a few kinds of vegetable per person.



Those vegetables can be anything from exotic Japanese to honest as the earth North American roots. For my selections I used what I had in the cupboard and fridge and that was onions, potatoes, carrots, red pepper, parsnips and spinach leaves. Nothing fancy, but the result was more than pleasing. It could have fed company as well as being a lone diner's treat.

It takes a bit of time, but it's a fun project. Nothing is difficult; the most taxing thing is perhaps the amount of oil you will need, enough for 3-4 inches of it in a narrowish saucepan. But you can cool, strain, and reuse the oil a few times. I refrigerate mine to make sure it is fresh.

Hope you will try this the next time you want to make vegetables the star of a special meal. You could guild the lily by serving it with a garlic mayonnaise or a ponzu, soy sauce-vinegar dip, or even, shhhhh, good ketchup. Not Japanese, but still good.

Go ahead treat yourself!





Gluten-free Tempura

Select about 3 to 5 kinds of vegetables and cut them into oblong or square shapes about 1/4-1/3 inch thick. I used potatoes with the skin left on, red pepper, onions cut in half and separated, carrots and parsnips cut into oblong slices, and spinach leaves.

To make the tempura batter stick the sliced vegetables need to be dredged lightly in flour before dipping into the batter. I used a mixture of half white rice flour and half cornstarch for this and made sure to clean off the excess with my fingers before dipping them. I fried mine in sunflower oil but you could use any mild flavoured vegetable oil that resists smoking. Give the veggies a quick dip in the following batter before frying them.





The Tempura Batter

1 egg yolk
1/2 cup very cold water
1/3 cup of white rice flour
1/6 or more of a cup of cornstarch

Separate the egg and pop the yolk into a small bowl. Beat it up to a froth and then put in the water and mix around a bit (I use a fork for this.) Put in the flours and beat lightly to get out the lumps. Usually you don't mix it too much because the gluten in regular flours will toughen but with gluten-free flours this is not a problem. It should look like a pretty thin crepe batter. Add a bit more flour if you think it needs it but be conservative because this batter is meant to be light and delicate.

Heat the oil to about 230 degrees. A thermometer makes this easier but you will learn to adjust the heat up or down so that the vegetables sizzle and bubble when they go in but don't cook too quickly outside before they are done inside. You can put about 3 or 4 pieces into a medium-sized saucepan at the same time. If you dredge and dip each one in succession they will enter the pot in good time to maintain the temperature of the frying oil. When they seem done remove with a slotted spoon or egg lifter and drain on absorbent paper on a plate, adding a small sprinkling of good salt. To serve them you may want to go the traditional route and put a few choice pieces on a bowl of rice, or serve them piled in a bowl or basket for snacking.

Enjoy them with a dip or let them melt in your mouth totemo solo.

Hit the Carrot Trail Muffins for Earth Day

Are they muffins or cupcakes? These days it's hard to tell the difference. Muffins in the popular chains have turned extraordinarily sweet and rich and many of them are large enough to fuel a charging lion. If lions were vegetarians maybe they would eat muffins. Makes sense to me.

I know my family likes little cakes, by any name. My daughter has a special fondness for sweets. Though she could certainly gain a few pounds, she eats small mountains of chocolate. Loves cakes, squares, cookies, breads whether sweet or savoury. I brought her up right.

These days with the stress high in this house, homemade sweets have been a little scarce. Not that we couldn't use the lift, just that the kitchen is in various states of renovation and clutter, as the house is readied for sale. And that we also are in various states of distress with some mental clutter to be cleared out, so baking sessions have been rare. But a day or so ago I felt the need of a little sweet medicine, so I went to the kitchen to whip up a remedy.

I came up with some pretty good muffins. They are a bit like carrot cake, which is what the recipe started out as. Carrot cake cupcakes from Isa Chandra Moskowitz's Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World cookbook. I thought they neded a bit more punch as I was going to convert them from glutened to gluten-free and sometimes that conversion produces baked goods that are so light they are more like parentheses around puffs of air than earthly delights.

I added pineapple, whch is a fundamental ingredient in carrot cakes I have been used to making. And because these needed some bite, and something to keep them from levitating off the table, I added some hearty store-bought trail mix. And an egg, but you vegans could make them without. They were nice and comforting. My daughter kept eating them and said they were as good as real muffins. I thought to share them with you.

Thanks to the Earth for all good root vegetables. If you make these at home you will save all the wrappings they would normally come in and spend a little time doing something healthy for yourself and maybe friends or family. You could even take them on a hike. So hit the Carrot Trail and have a happy Earth Day!





Hit the Carrot Trail Muffins (or cupcakes)

1/3 cup vegetable oil
2/3 cup sugar ( I use a natural organic sugar)
1/3 cup rice milk
1 egg (optional)
3/4 cup brown rice flour
1/4 tapioca flour
3 Tb kinako (roasted soybean flour) if you have it
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 rounded teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 rounded teaspoon ground ginger
1 tsp good vanilla
1/2 cup or so pineapple and juice (canned). I crush it in a blender.
1/4 tsp, rounded, baking powder
3/4 tsp baking soda
1 cup pulsed carrots (I do them very small in a food processor)
1/3-1/2 cup currants
1/2 cup or so trail mix, pulsed to crumbs in a blender (Nice if it's the kind with dried fruit)

Put the sugar, oil, and rice milk and vanilla in a medium-sized bowl and combine with a fork. Add the flours, baking powder and soda, spices, and mix together. Add the carrots and pineapple and stir them in. Put papers in a 12-cup muffin pan and fill carefully with the mixture. I add a tablespoon at a time to them all and then another spoon, going around in turn so the batter is distributed evenly among the papers. Because there's oil in the mix you don't need to oil the papers. Put the pan into a 350 degree oven and watch them fairly closely. They won't take too long to cook, probably between 15-20 minutes. I have a fast oven, but there are no hard and fast rules about this; watch them and rotate the pan after 10 minutes front to back so they can cook evenly. When they look a gingery light brown and seem firm, test them by sticking a sharp thin-bladed knife or a cake pick into the centre of a few. When it comes out almost clean and dry you can take them out because some cooking will continue out of the oven. Let them sit in the pan to solidify, especially if they are the vegan, without eggs version, which are a bit more delicate but taste just as good.

Eat them naked or sprinkle the tops with icing sugar and enjoy. If you are actually taking them on the trail, they should be light in the pack and light on your stomach.

Married with the Heart:

The Music of Loudon Wainright III and Kate McGarrigle

Recently I've been listening to songs from this irreverent, funny, earthy, and sometimes just plain touching American singer and prolific songwriter. Since it's spring, it's time for a little housecleaning of taste, a little exploration, a little sharing. This man's songs touch all parts available for touching; his music ranges all over the gamut of human feeling and goes where most are afraid to. I just listened to his History album and found it very tasty. I'm offering one song from that which I especially like called Handful of Dust, but you could do a lot worse than listen to Loudon's complete oeuvre. The funny faces he performs with are a bonus and if you want to see them go to youtube and do a search. You'll find plenty of choice there, both for songs and faces.

A Handful Of Dust - Loudon Wainwright III


Coincidentally, Loudon was married to one of my favourite singer-songwriters of all time, Kate McGarrigle, who with her sister Anna, wrote the ascendant Heartbeats Accelerating album (Private Music 1990) , maybe my favourite album of all time. French-Canadian influenced melodies, pure voices, musicianship of the first order, and lyrics that spring tender and true from two knowing hearts. One of my favourites from that album is the touching and sad I Eat Dinner about the end of love. Leonard Cohen wrote, "Dance me to the end of love". With Kate it's more of a sweet, sad, last waltz.

Young Talent: Matt McKeown

Young talent from Halifax, Nova Scotia, with a family connection. Matt wrote this song and performed it with his band in his last few years of high school. He's 19 now, 17 in this video, performing with his former band October Game, home to some very talented musicians. This year he's a working musician with his own jazz-influenced trio while he studies music at university. I think we may be hearing more from him.

Four Reasons

Where in the World is Vegetable Japan?

You might have noticed the lack of food here recently. I've been promising Thai recipes that haven't materialized. There have been no curries, no sweets, no pancakes, no breads. You'll be happy to know that I have been eating, but it's been more about ease and convenience than creative imagination. Tonight I had bread and peanut butter for supper. It was okay, but still it wasn't what I have been used to and nothing about it sang its way down my throat.

Because the truth is, I haven't felt like cooking recently. I've been stressed out about what will be my 5th move, when I make it, in a year.

This was the year that I packed up my life and threw half of it away, gave away another third and set off for home to re-connect with the self that I had left in limbo when I went off for my second stint in Japan eight years ago. Last March I packed up some small boxes with my Japanese treasures and mailed them home, and except for two bags of clothes that I could carry on the plane, that was all I had of 7 years of accumulated goods and life. I didn't miss most things too much, though for awhile I mourned the little dark-polished plank floored kitchen with its rice cooker and sharp knives, store of Indian spices, and big steel wok that with its wooden handle and perfectly seasoned bowl was ideal for making curries and stir-frys. My suribachi and pestle for making fragrant mixtures. And the gorgeous blue-as-the- sky enamelled cast iron pots that you've seen pictured here sometimes, a wok and an oval cocotte that were far too heavy to mail and found a home with another English teacher in my town. I hope she has as many delicious days with them.



Mustache's litter-mates, a few months old, in the front garden.


And I certainly missed Mustache, my feral cat turned friend, who had at the last minute refused to imagine another life outside the garden where she was born. I couldn't blame her for that, though I still think of her and how she curled warmly on my lap making winters just a little more cosy. Now when I think of her I hope that she has found another friend and another lap to curl in. I so hope that she is safe and happy and well fed.



Mustache, Queen of the futon.


I travelled from the Japan I had come to know and love, my neighborhood almost as familiar as the one I had grown up in here. I knew which stars would rise above the rooftops on my way home from classes, when the moon would light up my garden so that I could see as well as smell the familiar Rosemary bush at my side door. I knew where to buy the freshest produce and which of the Sunday market sellers had the best bargains. I knew how to ride my bicycle around all the narrow corners of the little lanes and which ones I had better slow down at and be careful of cars or walkers or other bicyclists.





I knew where to ride to see all the best gardens on a Sunday stretch for fresh air. I knew the people at the post office and the people at the drugstore, the people at the local conbenie where I paid my electric bill, and the people at the small health food store where I shopped every week. The fruit store where the obaa-chan snuggled a few molasses candies into my hand with the change. The best place to buy fresh green tea. Where the tofu was fresh and creamy. There were always smiles and the comfort of seeing the same people, and the extra politeness and smiles they reserved for regular customers.





I travelled to Vancouver and stayed with my sister for a month in her big house on one of the main streets. Everything was strange and big and a bit intimidating, and suddenly everyone looked angry and stressed and miserable. Or maybe that was just me. I was having a painful adjustment I discovered, but still I had a great time visiting my favourite Emily Carrs at the Art Gallery and the incredible Totems and gargantuan art at The Museum of Anthropology. And I managed to find an ethnic market and buy Indian spices and begin to cook curries and salads even if I was the only one who enjoyed them.



Emily Carr, The Little Pine, at the Vancouver Art Gallery.


When I came here to Nova Scotia, I stayed with my Mom for about 10 days, and then I left to stay in a little country village in the beautiful old house where days were slow and a lot like the life I had been dreaming of those last years in Japan. I was able to stay there for about four wonderful months, time in which I realized that this was my dream, slow living in the country where life could be the only goal, life and growing things and learning to heal myself and the land and be as natural and as far from the consuming culture as it was possible to be. Other than food and one book and some rug hooking supplies I bought nothing much for those months and was quite happy.





But as hard as I had saved for the year before I left, there was a point where the money started to run out and I had to think about getting work. Unfortunately there wasn't much of that in the country, and so I had to move to the city where I have been staying with my daughter ever since, picking up as much substitute teaching as my head can stand.

But it doesn't pay that well, and the sporadic nature of the work means that I really can't support myself. For this house I am staying in is getting ready to be sold, and so I will be moving again.



My neighborhood here in autumn.


I have no idea where. The idea that I could come home to Nova Scotia and afford to live here is slowly fading. For the fact is, like many Nova Scotians, I can't find a job here. After one year at home I am going to have to leave again. This time I'm not sure that I will be able to come back. In a way, I go into exile.

Whether this will a happy experience or not, I don't know. I'm hoping I will find a country and job that will support learning, and where I can save enough money so that I can come back at least for short visits. I hope I will find a place of peace, where I can have a small garden, set up a kitchen and feel inspired to cook again, a place that will nourish creativity and soothe the soul.

I don't know where in the world that will be, but if you have any good suggestions I'm ready to listen. In fact I'm all ears. In the meantime, I will be sending out resumes and dusting off my suitcases once again. I will be renewing my passport and figuring out what I need to take to be comfortable in whatever country I end up in.

I won't be going for about a month or so, and I will be continuing this blog from wherever I end up. I have found in blogging not only friends that offer encouragement when times get tough, and I thank you because it seems there have been plenty of those this year, but a place I come to when I have something I need to say. That may not always make for the best writing, but it does make for a kind of home, which is a real comfort right now.

With any luck there will be more stories, more recipes, and more living in the future of Vegetable Japan, wherever in the world it, and I, can be found. I hope you'll stick around.

From the Heart and Soul

Sometimes the truth hurts, they say, and they're right. Behind the beauty of art lies a whole world of pain and suffering, whether it be the time and effort required to hone and re-write a poem, get the inspiration for and make a painting, sweat out writing and revising a book, or give birth to a song or symphony, and that might take a whole life of living first. The level of sensitivity that you have to open yourself up to to allow creativity through, or even the amount of truth you have to face up to in order to encounter the self strongly enough to make a difference is considerable. It's painful for some of us just to turn off the TV or the computer and sit with that truth and all the thoughts that come flooding through for an hour or two. Think, then of the artist who does it every day of his/her life. It's no wonder so few of us have the courage to make art.

I found a video today of an older Ray LaMontagne song, one that shows what kind of passion it takes to make this kind of music. In my mind, Ray fits in right behind Pete Seeger in the series of men who speak truth through their art. I don't know Ray's politics except through his songs, but those songs speak to me strongly and this performance, as raw and intimate as it is, sings the heart and soul.

Look with me again at If I Could Hold you in My Arms: