Guest Post from Erika: Martha Stewart Outtakes

I have a brilliant idea for a new (reality) TV show. Outtakes and Bloopers from Martha Stewart. Call it schadenfreude, but wouldn't it be satisfying to see one of those "good things" turn into a complete disaster for a change? And the parting shot would be Martha slugging back a glass of cheap Chianti.

That's kind of what my evening looked like tonight. Single-minded, gorgeous culinary vision meets hubris. I blame Martha. And Barbara Kingsolver. Ever since I read "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle", I have sought to emulate her family's Friday night routine of taking random bits from the garden and turning them into beautiful, healthy pizzas. Pizza night! Never mind that my husband does not eat pizza, nor does he, with his current work/commute schedule, have dinner with us on Friday nights. Despite these realities, Friday night pizza is something I have been trying to instate for years.

And so, on the hottest day of the summer (so far), I decided to turn the oven up to 500 degrees, and bushwhack my way through my terrifically overgrown vegetable garden in the 95-degree heat to select some choice vegetables for our pizza. Peter amused himself by transporting a large portion of our winter firewood from one side of the house to the other, using his stroller as a sort of truck.

I excavated several feet of potato vines to find quite a lot of kale left underneath. Perfect to saute with garlic and top the pizza! I ignored the earwigs on the pepper plant and harvested our first two tiny purple peppers. I removed one dessicated ear of corn from our stunted, dried-up corn plants. Not sure what happened there. I ignored the legions of rattlesnake beans and green beans that are surely getting too tough to eat (beans on a pizza? no.), and snipped a few basil leaves from the tiny plants that have been overtaken by the enormous tomato trees.

I had to force my hand through the deer wire from the outside of the garden fence to collect a precious few cherry tomatoes. The other cherry tomatoes, sadly, are quite inaccessible to anyone over three feet tall because the plants are so huge that they butt up right against the fence on two sides of my poorly designed square of tomato plants. Unfortunately, Peter refuses to enter the garden ever since the squash plants scratched his little legs, and so the majority of the little Sungolds remain tantalizingly out of reach.

I returned to the house to find the dough rising well enough, which was surprising since I definitely did not get the water warm enough to activate the yeast. It even smoothed itself cooperatively over the cornmeal-covered pizza peel. Perhaps a bit TOO cooperatively, in hindsight. Peter had moved on to amusing himself by filling the already full of water wading pool with dirt and firewood. It will certainly dry out by the time winter arrives.

Next, I raided the refrigerator for a serendipitous selection of leftovers: Kalamata olives, feta cheese, and Parmesan cheese. I mixed up a little garlic oil and began to put together my masterpiece. When it was assembled, I was so pleased with myself that I took a picture. Little did I know that I would be using it as a "Before" picture:


This all, of course, took MUCH longer than I expected, and I'd gotten a late start. It was suddenly much later than we normally eat. So, perhaps I rushed the next step just a bit. Visualizing a quick, graceful slide from pizza peel to pizza stone, I opened the blazing hot oven and tried, with a practiced jerk, to deposit the pizza on the stone. It did not budge from the peel. Not even an inch. A few olives toppled onto the oven floor and hissed.

Wiping sweat from my eyes, and from a few other places that it now collects on my seven-and-a-half-month pregnant body, I tried again.

Nada.

Desperate, I racked the kitchen utensil drawer for some tool to assist. In the end I just shoved the ingredients from the peel to the stone and all over the oven floor with no regard for aesthetics. I optimistically thought that it might turn out to be an inventive sort of half calzone, half pizza-ish creation. It was a disaster.


I've been surprising monk-like throughout this pregnancy, avoiding alcohol almost completely, except for a few sips on Easter and four ounces of very good wine on a recent date at a surprisingly good, almost-local (Auburn, 30 minutes away) wine bar. But tonight I opened a bottle of wine, and poured myself a half glass. I think Martha would have approved.

Peter sat down at the table. "What is this, Mom?" I brightly replied: "It's pizza, honey! Yum! Bon Appetit!" He tried it, ate a few bites. "Mom, I don't like this kind of pizza. I want another pizza." Actually, it wasn't bad for what it was. The crust turned out very nice in most places. And the good flavors were all there, at least the parts that didn't burn to a crisp on the bottom of the oven. But so much for family pizza night and garden bounty. I think I'm over it. Next Friday, we're going out for pizza.

Abandoned Cat Sulks, Neglects to Post on Blog While Family Vacations Elsewhere

Oh, neglected blog! Well, I've been neglected too while the Kosinas gallivant around San Francisco, Pescadero, Washington, France, and who knows where else.

At least I have some pictures to share.

Orcas Island in the San Juan Islands of Washington state! Who knew? Stunningly beautiful, fantastic food, even pretty decent weather. Here is how it looks from its highest point:


That's Peter and BFF Lindy running around down there, with mama Amy + baby Piper, and dad, of course. Here is a close-up of the cuteness.



Peter had to bring his lovey on the hike, of course. See it there in his hand?



And the family Kosina, with Erika fighting a terrible cold, trying not to look like death warmed over. At least the view was beautiful.



Peter enjoyed hunting for sea shells with dad on the beach...



But mostly he enjoyed all the BOATS! On the whale watching boat (no, we did not spot any whales):



On the ferry to Victoria...



And, DRIVING the ferry to Victoria! (Do you drive a boat? Sail it? Well, he was steering anyway.)



Not much else to report, other than hot, hot, HOT in Nevada City. Summer has finally arrived.

Guest Post from Erika: More Things I Learned Living in the Country

Life is definitely a learning experience, even for perfectionists like me who would so like to get it right the first time. Today I learned that the random contents of a refrigerator sometimes yield The Best Frittata Ever. This morning I threw together green garlic, leftover salmon, capers, and sour cream with some really incredible pastured eggs from Nightingale Farm. It was...uplifting. As I raved about it to Peter, he yelled back: "Don't talk about my salmon!". Ah, three-year-olds.

I have had two very important teachers in the last ten months. I'll save the best for last. Let's start with:

What I Learned From the Squirrels.

Actually, it can be summed up in two sentences:

Squirrels are smarter than we think they are.
Squirrels will do almost anything to get to food.

In the last few weeks, our bird feeders have been completely abandoned by the birds. I haven't seen a junco or a nuthatch in ages. Instead, we witness up to FOUR squirrels at a time frolicking in the seed, nibbling, spilling, hanging, and being generally amusing but still, I miss the birds. I received a beautiful bird book in the mail this week from my dear Aunt Brooke, and that was the last straw. I want my birds back.

A while back, I thought that maybe getting the squirrels their own, easy-to-access feeder would keep them away from the BIRD feeder that they do gravity-defying acrobatics to take advantage of. They pretty much ignored the new feeder, unless the regular bird feeder was empty. Squirrels: 1, Erika: 0.

Recently, I got serious about keeping them away from the bird feeder, and started with the most aesthetically pleasing approach. I selected an appropriately shaped object from our antique "rust collection" and affixed it to the bird feeder in such a way that I thought might deter the squirrels. They climbed right over it: "Nice antique! Thanks for the grub."

Next, I carefully cut a piece of screen to fit as a sort of baffle over the top of the feeder. It was a little spiky on the edges and acted as an umbrella over the main attraction. I was sure the squirrels couldn't get past it. They bent it down and resumed feeding: "What's this thing? Oh well, more tasty sunflower seeds!" Squirrels: 3, Erika: 0.

I've now given up on aesthetics. I crumpled the screen in such a way that it presents a spiky, hopefully annoying ball of wire on top of the feeder. In addition, I have cut a large yogurt container to fit around the main branch leading to the feeder. It looks like one of those giant collars that animals are forced by the vet to wear when they aren't supposed to lick or scratch some tender part of their body. Not so attractive, but I can't imagine how those little buggers will get past it. If they do, the Ball of Screen should stop them. We'll see. Stay tuned...

My most influential teacher since moving to Nevada City has not been the squirrels, it's been my new friend, Amy. Amy is too many good things to list here: thoughtful, smart, patient, curious, generous, and consistently positive, even when faced with a toddler who has put lotion "shampoo" all over her hair and a screaming infant. Simultaneously. She's that good. Here are the top five things I have learned from Amy:

1) Think positive. It is such a pleasure to be around someone who always looks at the bright side, even when things are pretty cloudy. Amy is cheerful even on 3 hours of sleep. I really don't know how she does it, but a it's a good goal to work towards.

2) You really don't need to carry as much as you think. Amy has two children under the age of three. And yet, whenever I see her, she is carrying...her car keys. That's it. Whereas I am lugging a huge bag packed with snacks, two water bottles, diapers, wipes, diaper mat, my wallet, my phone, my keys, and god knows what else. When you think about it, all you really need is the car keys. Everything else can stay...in the car! Brilliant. I haven't quite been able to give up my crutch of a purse, but I am thinking about it...

3) Focus on the other person in the conversation. When I first met Amy, she was hugely pregnant. We had talked about having dinner or a play date, and so one Sunday I called her to make plans. As it turns out, she had just given birth! Like, hours before. But instead of focusing on her baby, her birth story, the miracle of what had just happened and how her life had profoundly changed, she wanted to know all about how we were doing. ??? I was stunned. How did she even have the presence of mind to ask how I was doing? She is consistently curious about me and my life, and sometimes I am embarrassed to realize that I have been ranting about something for 20 minutes before I remember to include her in the conversation. She sure knows how to make people feel important and heard.

4) Accessorize! As I mentioned before, Amy has two small children, one of whom has only recently emerged from the larvae stage to the impossibly cute stage. Before Amy leaves the house, she has to make sure these kids are dressed, fed, and poop-free. For those of you who do not have children, this can be (and often is) a monumental task, even with just one child. But Amy always looks fresh and pulled together (again, even after only three hours of sleep). I have recently started scrutinizing her appearance, wondering how she does it. And I think I have discovered her secret -- accessories! Even a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt looks polished when you add earrings, a necklace, a scarf, and a pretty hair clip. Of course, it doesn't hurt if you are gorgeous to start with, as Amy is, but seriously -- accessories have the ability to transform, and they only take a moment to add. Try it.

5) Be on time. This one is simple, but it's another one that I have gotten worse and worse about. It is so easy to find excuses with a preschooler in tow. There was a last-minute blow out! We couldn't find his shoes! He threw his breakfast on the floor and it spread out to a radius of five feet in every direction! These are all commonplace occurrences with a baby or preschooler. But Amy is always on time. In fact, she is usually early. It's respectful to be on time. It's the right thing to do. If Amy can do it with two kids, I can do it with one. And hopefully with two as well. I'm going to try to be better about it.

Thanks, Amy, for showing me that another way is possible. You are an inspiration, and I am glad to know you!

Easter 2011

We're on a roll! Two blog posts in two days! Here are some pictures of our Easter festivities -- I did manage to get some extra petting from our two guests, Aunt Brooke and Uncle Tony, but I stayed out of the main action and let the holiday center around the little big guy.

Brooke and Tony arrived on Saturday, and immediately presented our lucky little guy with a giant Rabbit, which he named Tata. Tata and the loon (all the way from Minnesota) quickly became fast friends.

Brooke ("Gigi") and Tony ("Gagi") were a great help dyeing Easter eggs with Super Peter (pictured in cape). Martin tried something fancy involving a needle, onion skins, and a candle wax, while Peter stuck to the tried and true Paas kit.


Easter morning dawned rainy, but the Easter bunny did deliver. He cleverly hid the eggs *inside* the house so that none of us had to get wet. Peter found all of the eggs, which ended up all pretty much the same color. These photos were all taken pre-chocolate binge. The aftermath was not so pretty.




Luckily we had "Gagi" there to keep Peter entertained while "Gigi" and Erika cooked.

Martin also kept us entertained with the Czech tradition of forming whips out of decorated branches. These whips are used to chase the girls and demand eggs. Luckily Brooke and I were fortified with plenty of jelly beans. Note Peter's super cool Skoda shirt, a present from Babicka Jana in the Czech Republic.

Jelly beans are now banned from our house. But at least we got one cute family portrait out of the day.

Peter is still Daddy's Boy. Good thing Erika has me.

Guest Post from Erika: More About Food and Feeding

I can't believe it's been over a month since anybody updated this blog! Pawlene has been catching up on her sleep and cautiously venturing out into the weak sunshine while I have been happily working on a number of projects, including a new, paid, contract position as the Program Coordinator for Live Healthy Nevada County's Food and Nutrition Action Committee. My task: get healthy foods into Nevada County's schools in the form of garden stands and an alternative school meal program. It's my dream job.

Oh, and then there was Easter and happy visits to friends and relatives and delightful visits FROM relatives and a week-long birthday celebration, culminating in a visit to the California State Railroad Museum, for my THREE-year-old son, and goodness, life. I wouldn't say spring has actually sprung (we've been fooled before), but life is certainly happening in a very active way for us.

So Peter is a big boy now. He tells us this at every opportunity. He can take off his shoes All By Himself. He can go pee pee in the potty, when prompted. And he is full-on into the "Why?" stage, meaning you can't read two sentences in a book without him asking why something is the way it is. Example:

We are driving down Highway 49 through Auburn, when we spot a giant pickle on the sidewalk, waving a big sign selling who knows what.

Me: Look, Peter! There's a giant pickle on the sidewalk!
Peter: Why is there a giant pickle on the sidewalk?
Me: Good question!
Peter: Because if he was in the street he would get run into by cars!

Smart kid. At least he answered his own question that time.

We are three weeks away from our last winter vegetable delivery, and I am out, out, OUT of ideas for parsnips, swiss chard, black radishes, cabbage, and leeks. No more, please! Today, as Peter napped, I was agonizing over how to get rid of utilize the latest crop of winter's bounty. When Peter woke up, demanding a snack, I decided to kill two birds with one stone. I quickly chopped and steamed both last week's AND this week's cauliflower, and threw in a bunch of seasonings inspired by my dear friend Amy's family recipe for whole, steamed cauliflower that she so generously shared with us a few weeks ago. I put it on a plate, and set it in front of Peter.

Peter: What's this?
Me: Cauliflower! Yummy! Like broccoli, but white!
[Peter shoves a floret into his mouth.]
Peter: Like Broccoli!
Me: You like it?
Peter: It's yummy!
[Vegetable overabundance problem solved!]

He vacillates between being an extremely adventurous eater, and a frightfully capricious picky eater. I never know what is OFF the list, or when it will be perfectly acceptable again. And so I keep trying.

In addition to my overabundance of winter vegetables this week, I also ended up with an overabundance of goat meat. At least I can freeze goat meat. How in the world did I end up with five pounds of goat meat?, most sane people might ask. Well, it was kind of the like the grapes in Buffalo, New York, when I was a silly young 20-something who had moved to the East Coast to row for the summer. If Shannon Kopplin is reading this, she is laughing right now. We (Shannon and I) were grocery shopping in some random market, and when I asked the cashier how much I owed him, he answered "$14.83, without the grapes." When I naturally queried him: "What grapes?", he pointed out a display near the register and told me how delicious they were. So of course, we had to buy the grapes too.

How does that relate to goat? Good question. Back in January, the aforementioned Amy invited us to tour her landlord's farm, as baby lambs had just made an appearance. We had a wonderful time, and Peter loved the lambs:

Fast forward to two weeks before Easter, when I had not yet found a local source for my traditional Easter meal of leg of lamb. And then I remembered the baby lambs... One phone call later, and we were back at the farm, getting spoiled by the farmer. First, she served us the most divine fresh sheep's milk yogurt...then she found the perfect size leg of lamb (organic, grass fed, blah blah blah) and gave us a GREAT deal. But then she continued to dig through her freezer. "Ever tried goat?", she asked us. Uh...no. Needless to say, we left with five pounds of various cuts of goat meat, accompanied by vague recipes.

And so, last night, when I couldn't find anything reasonable in the refrigerator to feed Peter, I decided to give it a try. I found a great source for recipes on the Sierra Foothills Meat Buying Club website, which featured a recipe for goat shoulder chops from Cook's Illustrated that looked promising. I cooked them up, and put them in front of Peter. I thought they were a little tough, but with good flavor. He devoured every bite and asked for more. Goat! Who knew? Next week: goat chili.

The only person in the house whose appetite has lately been more capricious (and occasionally ravenous) than Peter is me. One explanation could be that I am eating for two, and the little one is a demanding master. Yep, we are expecting another family member (Human! No more cats!) to arrive in the neighborhood of Halloween. Believe me, nobody was more surprised than we were to discover this happy news. Peter is taking it well. He has requested a sister, but we'll have to wait until October to find out if he gets his wish. He frequently gives "his baby" hugs and kisses, and has even requested a baby in his own tummy. Guess it's time for Part One of the birds and the bees talk...

Rain Snow Rain Snow Sleet Hail Rain Snow

Hello...Spring? Not as far as the eye can see around here. Talk about cabin fever. At least we get some interesting permutations in all the precipitation. Today's special guest: Wind. We are hoping the giant oak tree next door can hold out for one more season...

And we are back in the House of Plague. While I huddle under the comforter, Martin and Peter are coughing and sniffling while Erika uses her daily dose of fresh squeezed orange juice (thanks Winter fruit CSA!) as a talisman to protect her from sickness. She is also avoiding the gym because, well, think of all the GERMS concentrated indoors there!

In other news, I am feeling rather petite in the context of this report on one of my kin. Thanks, Sally Syberg, for bringing this to our attention. A cat the size of an 8-year-old child!?!

The "Where Shall We Live?" debate continues, with a new lobby from Martin to move back to Portland. Erika is holding strong in her position of Never Moving Again, so we'll see how it all shakes out.

The rain outside the window just turned back into snow, time for me to dig deeper under this comforter and wait this whole Winter thing out...

Guest Post from Erika: My Life as Pac Man

Alternate title: Erika Shows Her Age

First of all, if you've never played Pac Man, this post is unlikely to make any sense to you, but I can try to explain. Pac Man is a video game that was popular in the early 80s. Now for all of you youngsters out there, 80s-era video games were nothing like the incredibly realistic blood and guts shoot 'em up games that today's youth (and a few older gentlemen I know) spend hours "engaging" in.

In *my* day, we went to the pizza parlor or the video arcade, plopped a few quarters in, and played for a few minutes (or more, if we were lucky, or really, really good). But I digress. In Pac Man, your character is an endearing little yellow circle who is mostly mouth. He navigates quickly through a maze, eating as many dots as possible. He has to eat all of the dots in the entire maze before the monsters that are chasing him catch him. Occasionally he'll eat a special dot that allows him to eat monsters for a brief period of time. As you play, everything speeds up faster and faster until you are navigating on pure reflexes.

This is my life!

Today I have to figure out how to get from one end of the maze to the other, making sure I pick up beer and ice for tonight's Tech Talk (starring Martin Kosina!), our CSA box, and, oh yeah, my son, along the way. Sounds simple until you add in a 1:00pm meeting, a 3:00pm meeting, a 4:00pm meeting, the fact that I can't pick up the CSA box until after 2:00pm, the fact that ice melts and there are no refrigeration facilities at the Tech Talk venue, and the fact that I have to pick up Peter by 5:00pm, yet arrive at the Tech Talk venue with dinner in my stomach no later than 5:30pm. Hmmm.

It's an interesting math problem. But it's all good. I feel lucky that I get to enjoy being a mama AND work part time at a job that I love, and that stimulates me intellectually beyond today's math problem and beyond changing the latest poopy diaper (yes, we are still working on that whole potty training thing). I get the best of both worlds. And thank god I have a willing and supportive partner (thanks Martin!) without whom I could never get it all done. It's just that sometimes my worlds collide and I feel like monsters are going to eat me if I don't figure it out quickly enough or miss just one of those blinking yellow dots...