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Over the last several weeks, I've used my facebook space to spotlight some very special people in my life -- men and women who've fought their own courageous battles with cancer. In the next couple of weeks, I will introduce you to a couple more.
But tonight I'm going to share a bit more of MY story throughout my social network. Apologies if you're seeing this in multiple spaces, but it's important to me that i get the message out -- to as many people as possible.
About a year ago, I took a phone call that would change my life. In a heartbeat, I went from "something doesn't look right" to "it's cancer." As I absorbed a veritable encyclopedia of information about margins and hormone suppression and radiation-safe personal hygiene, I clung to my commitment to the Komen Breast Cancer Three Day in an attempt to stay sane.
I actually wore one of my old victory shirts to a pre-surgery appointment. My oncologist's response: "your 2012 shirt will say 'Survivor'". It was one of those moments where everything became REAL -- both the gravity of what lay ahead and the core belief that I WOULD survive. That image carried me through many of the scariest moments of the journey. And spurs me on when I get to 10 or 12 miles and my calves are screaming to stop.
So in addition to the brave men and women in whose honor and memory I am walking, this year's journey is also about me. It's about taking back some control after six months without much. It's about celebrating my return to health. It's about proving that "60 Miles. Yeah. I can do that".
Please, take the time to follow this link, read a little more about what I'm doing and why, and support me if you can.
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| Finger Lickin' Chicken Tenders |
As we close the kitchen door on 2011 -- we're going out to eat this evening -- I want to reassure those of you not following my food photography on Facebook that while I didn't share it here, we didn't exactly spend a year in fasting. The image to the left emerged from the oven for dinner last night, our takeon this Blue Kitchen masterpiece. Bacon and blue cheese... a capital note on which to close the kitchen.
Three hundred sixty four days ago, I proclaimed 2011 "a new year, a new decade, a blank slate with infinite possibility."
Almost a year later I can say with the twenty-twenty clarity of hindsight that I had NO idea how true that statement would become.
Three months later I found myself unemployed. Neither a surprise nor a disappointment, but certainly an inconvenience. And in the end, a great blessing. Because it forced me to look without filters at who I am, what I want, and where I'll find happiness.
Six months later I accepted the offer for what's turning out to be my dream job. I'm neither a food writer nor a restaurateur (those are fantasy jobs, not dream jobs). I get to use both my God-given talents and my post-university education to make the world a better place -- at least for some people working in human resources in the healthcare industry. It's been a huge shift from high tech, and I've let go of some fun techie toys in the process. But what I do today has a real impact on real people, not just margins and stock prices. And I sleep much better knowing that.
Nine months later I came face-to-face, eye-to-eye with my mortality... and kicked it summarily to the curb. I'm not done with this world (nor it with me) yet. I'll spare the gory details except to say that if you're reading this and you're a woman over 40, go get the mammogram.
There's 2011 in less than 400 words. Bring on 2012!
Two thousand eleven?
Or twenty eleven?
A new year, a new decade, a blank slate with infinite possibility.
Honestly I'm less concerned about what we're going to call it; I'm still trying to figure out how the heck we got here... so quickly. As I flip the calendar forward I find myself reflecting on the moments that in many ways define the lens through which I see the world today. Some represent key ingredients in the recipe that is my life. Others seemed insignificant in the moment, but provide the salt, seasonings and structural elements critical to a balanced dish.
1978 brought us Saturday Night Fever, Space Invaders and the very first cell phone. My parents balked at spending 70c a gallon on gasoline as they sat in blocks-long lines waiting to fill the tank in the Nova. We celebrated my tenth birthday in Lake Tahoe where I learned that for the rest of the world "ethnic" wasn't synonymous with Italian. We dined at a Greek restaurant whose name I've long forgotten, but I can still taste the beautifully balanced complexity of the moussaka and the strange lasagna the waiter called pastizio, the brightness that lemon and a sprinkle of salt brought to the fried potatoes. My horizons expanded 100% in that experience.
1983 gave birth to both the internets and Microsoft Word, while 125 million television viewers watched the 4077 fold up the M*A*S*H tents for the final time. For this high school freshman, the adventure lay in Paris, France with seven other teenage girls and a social studies teacher with a sense of adventure, a touch of insanity or perhaps a bit of both. My parents' goal in providing this opportunity was likely to expand my horizons. Perhaps on some level they succeeded: my strongest memories include a pillow war launched over the Atlantic with a rowdy college soccer team from Spain and my first exposure to French wine and steak tartarre.
Mark Wills reminds us that a space shuttle fell out of the sky in 1986, the year that ushered us one step closer to email and offered me closure on twelve years of Catholic education. I won a scholarship that spring with an essay on a topic I'd have to dig through boxes of memorabilia to remember. I left for college that year with no clear idea of what direction my career path would take, but I knowing that ultimately I would write. For myself, if no one else was interested.
Technologically 1989 introduced us to Microsoft Office, the 486 PC, Nintendo's Game Boy and the first GPS satellites. Personally I embarked on a brand new journey in 1989. While I would have told you I was fat in high school (and alongside some of my size 2-4 friends I certainly felt that way), after three years of dorm and cafeteria food I could no longer ignore the freshman fifteen not-quite-forty and with two of my sorority sisters joined Weight Watchers, beginning a twenty year love/hate relationship with the bathroom scale.
While Windows 95 and the introduction of java script were the hot topics in technology, in the spring of 1995 some combination of chance/fate/circumstance put me at the Old Spaghetti Factory in Concord, across the table from the man I would later love like no other. Half a year later, across from the same man at a different table I glanced at his chicken ceasar salad and quipped 'dude, I can taste that pepper from here.' And thus began fifteen years of food and life adventures.
In 1997 the world bids farewell to two iconic ladies of the 20th century: Princess Diana and Mother Theresa of Calcutta, and we're introduced Dolly the genetically engineered lamb and Harry Potter. Personally, Kyle's birth in June creates another branch on the family tree -- and over time an opportunity to pass on heirloom family recipes to the next generation.
While the rest of the world fretted over the consequences of the Y2K bug, my family came face-to-face with the "C" word for the first time in late 1999 when my father -- a lifetime smoker -- was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. In the six months that followed I saw the healing power of food at a new level as he taught me his holiday recipe secrets, I spent six hours in December looking for fresh cherries for turnovers, we found an excellent source of take-out chiles rellenos and twelve new ways to serve chicken livers to quiet the chemo cravings and bring peace and comfort.
A $415 million, eight-year federal study completed in 2006 finds that a low-fat diet does not decrease the risk of heart disease, cancer, or stroke and high fructose corn syrup begins its ascent as the latest ugly red-headed stepchild of the food world. And on February 5, 2006 I tiptoed softly onto the food blog scene. Some 1790-days, 28 daring baker challenges, 33 Tuesdays with Dorie, hundreds of dinners out and a handful of holidays later I'm still here. Sometimes vocal, sometimes more silent, but ready to see where the next five, ten, fifteen years will take us...
Yep...starting again is part of the plan.
I didn't write much here in 2010. Okay, okay, I didn't write at ALL here in 2010.
But with a flip of the calendar we're turning the page; starting a new chapter. I'm ready to see what tastes and temptations that new chapter will bring...
I know my mind works in mysterious ways, but the tart versus pudding debate struck me as Shakespearean in nature. Bill said it best through Juliet: Oh, what's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection to which he owes without that title. Translation: Tart? Pudding? Let's quit arguing and enjoy dessert! And in retrospect, the Bakewell Tart…er… Pudding is the perfect Shakespearean confection. Think about it… The hero: An almost sinful shortcrust pastry base. The leading lady: An unctuous layer of vine ripened fruit at the peak of perfection. The comic relief: All topped off with a fluffy frangipane that doesn't feel like it will fit in with the rest of the cast. But it does. A whole lot of history, a bit of comedy… and the tragedy arrives when the plate is empty. The Bard would have LOVED it. We sure did! But I digress. The June Daring Bakers' challenge was hosted by Jasmine of Confessions of a Cardamom Addict and Annemarie of Ambrosia and Nectar. They chose a Traditional (UK) Bakewell Tart... er... pudding that was inspired by a rich baking history dating back to the 1800's in England. Required elements included the pastry and the frangipane, but our hostesses left us to our own devices when choosing the fruit filling. For me there WAS no question – I'd stashed away a jar of our Blenheim Jam for precisely this purpose. The tart (pudding) came together without much fuss, and the apricots paired beautifully with the almonds in the finished product. For those of you who want to try your hand at the tart, Jasmine's posted the recipe here and Annemarie has it here. And the ongoing escapades of the Daring Bakers can now be found in the Daring Kitchen.
Long before the Steves - Jobs and Wozniak -revolutionized the world of personal computing by reconfiguring the forbidden fruit, produce of a different type dominated the Silicon Valley. At the turn of the twentieth century the hottest commodity in Santa Clara Valley was the apricot, not the apple. And the Royal Blenheim - a probably hybrid of France's Royal and England's Blenheim apricots - was considered the king of pre-Silicon Valley crops from World War II until the tech invasion converted orchards into office parks in the 1970's and 80's.
We made the trek to Brentwood on Saturday morning, hoping to beat the heat. Vera – the voice of our trusty Verizon-provided GPS navigation system – served us well, only whining a couple of times about "recalculating route…" as she guided us through the rapidly expanding suburban sprawl of strip malls and cookie-cutter houses toward our destination. When we emerged from the car we were pleasantly surprised NOT to be overwhelmed by the heat and we made our way to the shed to pick up our stash. And one taste of the elusive apricot made it clear to us that "progress" is a matter of perspective. I'll take a green-tinged blemished Blenheim over the softball-sized firm-fleshed apricots lining the aisles at the mega mart any day. These little guys are liquid sunshine, and at least in my head they are the taste equivalent of the color apricot.
While I was traipsing around the Tri-Valley in search of supplies, John was making my kitchen smell like summer. He started with two preserve recipes: Blenheim Apricot Jam and Apricot Butter. When I got home we pulled out the ice cream bowl attachment for the Kitchen Aid and made David Lebovitz' Apricot Sorbet. And I pitted the last of a pound of farmer's market cherries and set to work on a custardy Apricot Cherry Clafouti.
All in all, a weekend well spent.
For a little more history on the beautiful Blenheim, see this article from the Chronicle in 2004.
That's one of the pieces of advice I'm trying to employ in my quest for a healthier lifestyle as I transition into late middle youth. And while I'm willing to drink a little lemonade and not so many beers (I'm not a beer fan anyway) and eat a few more salads in my next thirty forty years, I'm NOT willing to give up my passion for good food. So in an effort at portion control, I'm a judicious proponent of the doggie bag when dining out. And since I've NEVER liked leftovers, that forces me out of my comfort and into my creative zone.
Take a recent dinner; a conglomeration of take out and in house leftovers.
I started with about a cup of chirashi rice leftover from lunch at Koji's. Added some chopped onion and leftover steamed asparagus. And kicked it up a notch with a dash of Thai sweet chili sauce. I paired this dish with an egg scrambled with another container of sauteed mixed mushrooms left over from dinner at Bridges. Seasoned with a bit of oregano, a nice foil for my take on "fried rice."
A nourishing, soul-satisfying, virtually no (addional) cost meal.
So when I learned that my little Aerogarden offered a kit with cherry tomatoes I thought my md-winter dream of caprese salad might become reality. I'm not exactly a green thumb -- to my mother's great dismay I killed the unkillable palm tree and cactus in college -- but we had some luck with the aerogarden herbs last fall and I was willing to take a risk...
And as you can see from the over-exposed photograph above, I DID get tomatoes. Tasty tomatoes. They were slow growing, but the little buds after 8 weeks and the itty bitty orbs in the 12th week kept my attention.
I think I missed something in the instructions around properly supporting them though -- my plants caved under the weight of the fully ripened fruit, and each plant yielded about 30 tomatoes before completely giving in. So I'll call it a qualified success and try again next year...
For someone with my (lack of) talent with cheesecake, we're headed for the homeowner's association planning meeting. Whee!
But I digress...
The April 2009 challenge is hosted by Jenny from Jenny Bakes. She has chosen Abbey's Infamous Cheesecake as the challenge. But she's given us a LOT of leeway in the execution. She challenged thousands of us to play with it. Make it unique. Make a showstopper of a dessert. Add flavor, sauces, decorations – dress it up and show it off.
Um... sure. You realize you're pushing buttons here Jenny. I thought I'd proved in December that I'm cheesecake impaired? You want me to get CREATIVE?!?!
So I took a couple of deep, cleansing zen-like breaths, rolled up my sleeves, grabbed an apron, said a silent prayer to Martha, Peabody, Shuna, Tartlett and a host of my other baking gods and goddesses... and made some minor modifications to the base recipe.
I went with a meyer lemon theme, paying homage to the fruit I played softball with in the back yard as a kid, never guessing I'd one day be spending $1.25 a piece for them.
I zested the lemon before I juiced it, and tossed the zest in with a combination of graham crackers and almond meal to form the crust.
I added a bit of limoncello to the batter.
And when the cake came out of the oven with a couple of crevasses (see... I TOLD you cheesecake impaired), I took a tip from Alton brown and decorated it with a sauce make of sour cream, lemon marmalade and candied meyer lemons.
Don't get me wrong... I love breakfast FOOD (I love almost ALL food), but if I had my way, my ideal day would start at the crack of noon. Until I was in my mid thirties, breakfast typically consisted of a can of Mountain Dew on my way to school/work. Diet if I was feeling particularly virtuous.
But continuing to enjoy good food as I make the transition into what a colleague calls "late middle youth" requires that I get and keep my (_]_) in gear. Unfortunately my schedule dictates that several of these butt-busting sessions happen in the early morning hours. And since the drama associated with passing out on Lizette mid-workout is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, I find myself becoming better acquainted with breakfast.
One of my go-to (translated: "you can sleep an extra 15 minutes because this one takes no time to prepare") pre-workout breakfasts is the humble banana, smeared with a tablespoon of peanut butter. Potassium and protein both seem to fuel my workout, and a little natural sugar gives me an additional energy boost.
The problem? I'm picky about bananas. I like them almost green. If they've gone all the way yellow, they're over-ripe for me. And they cross my line very quickly, so if I'm not very careful this produces a lot of waste.
So I'm always on the lookout for good banana bread and muffin recipes -- a nice alternative to tossing a mushy banana into the blender for a smoothie. And I recently found a GREAT recipe over at Sugar Laws for some mighty yummy Banana Saffron Muffins. Easy to assemble and Katy's right: the saffron adds a subtle but distinct flavor and makes these muffins something special. An added bonus: they freeze well, and tossed in the toaster oven for a minute and then smeared with a bit of peanut butter it's every bit as quick and satisfying as the aforementioned standard.
And anything that affords me a few extra minutes of sleep is a VERY good thing. Just ask anyone who's had the misfortune of scheduling a 6:30 AM conference call with me...
