No morning alarm.
Nowhere to be.
An enticing book within reach of the bed.
Sunshine drilling through the window onto my face.
A husband willing to get up early to start the fires, feed the cats, hay the goats, and fetch the groceries.
No homework.
No planned chores.
A long, complex, delicious-looking recipe printed out.
Bread books open to dough-crusted pages.
A fresh stack of chocolate-chip pancakes.
Two bottles of orange juice (one with LOTS of pulp).
Plans later to meet friends for a movie and dinner.
Unhurried time.
If you want to sing out, sing out
70 songs seemed like plenty of room for all the great ones. Turns out, it’s not nearly enough.*
I started listing all the songs I loved — songs from deep childhood, through teenagerhood, young-adulthood, adulthood, love, marriage, motherhood.
I easily got to 100.
Then M and I started to talk about his list. Dang! More great songs I’d forgotten about. Then I took a tour through our iTunes library. Rats! Even more songs. Now I had 140. Prune prune prune.
I gave myself a rule: only one song per artist, no matter how much I love that artist (Gordon Lightfoot and Nick Lowe, I’m looking at you… Richard Thompson, you seem to be an exception because you had the foresight to sing so many duets). I thought, at least, that would let me have one song from every artist I love. No such luck (Hello, Bob Marley? Where you at?!).
What I ended up with, though, works. I took it for a test drive today in the form of a playlist on my iPod while I walked the dog. I put the playlist on shuffle and started walking. I only got through 12 songs, but at each one, I thought, “I LOVE that song!” That’ll do. I cannot WAIT to put this on in the car and sing my way through it. In the end, for most of these songs, that’s what matters: does it make me want to SING?
Without any further ado, for what it’s worth, here is my list of 70 songs in honor of Desert Island Disc’s 70th anniversary. Now, won’t you please tell me some of your Desert Island Discs?!
p.s. A book? The Norton Anthology of American Literature (Volumes 1 & 2). A luxury? My bed.
American Tune | Paul Simon
Anchorage | Michelle Shocked
Ashokan Farewell | Jay Ungar
Beg Steal or Borrow | Ray LaMontagne
Betting on Trains | Hem
Big Yellow Taxi | Joni Mitchell
Black Boys on Mopeds | Sinead O’Connor
Blackbird | The Beatles
Blow Away | George Harrison
Bows of London | Martin Carthy & Dave Swarbrick
BulletProof | La Roux
Careless | Paul Kelly & The Messengers
Chan Chan | Buena Vista Social Club
Cico Buff | Cocteau Twins
Concerto for Violin and orchestra in D (mov 1) (mov 2) (mov 3) | Perlman: Beethoven
Crazy | Gnarls Barkley
Cruel To Be Kind | Nick Lowe
Driving Home | Cheryl Wheeler
Farewell, Farewell | Fairport Convention
Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall | Simon & Garfunkel
For Your Babies | Simply Red
Girl From the North Country | Bob Dylan
Good Morning Starshine | Oliver
Guilty By Association | Vic Chesnutt
Hello Stranger | Barbara Lewis
Hotel California | The Eagles
If I Was a Blackbird | Silly Wizard
Late Winter, Early Spring (When Everybody Goes to Mexico) | John Denver
Let the Mystery Be | Iris Dement
Madame George | Marianne Faithfull
Maracaibera | Quinteto Contrapunto
Nessun Dorma | Placido Domingo
Nights on Broadway | The Bee Gees
Persuasion | Richard Thompson and Teddy Thompson
Pour me rapprocher de Marie | Juan Diego Florez
Quitting Time | The Roches
Raindrops | Dee Clark
Rainy Night in Georgia | Brook Benton
Rock Your Baby | George McCrae
Sandy River Belle | Sharon Shannon
(Sittin’ on the) Dock of the Bay | Otis Reading
Smalltown Boy | Bronski Beat
Someday, Someway | Marshall Crenshaw
Song For a Winter’s Night | Gordon Lightfoot
Stand Tall | Burton Cummings
Stay With Me | Lorraine Ellison
Stornelli Amorisi | Claudio Villa
Sweet City Woman | The Stampeders
Sweet Jane | The Cowboy Junkies
Sweet Talkin’ Woman | E.L.O.
Sweetest Decline | Beth Orton
The Ladies Who Lunch | Elaine Stritch
The World Turned Upside Down | Dick Gaughan
Thunderstorms and Neon Signs | Wayne Hancock
Tiny Sparrow | Peter, Paul, and Mary
Trouble | Cat Stevens
TVC 15 | David Bowie
Urge For Going | Tom Rush
Walk on By | Dionne Warwick
Walking on a Wire | Linda Thompson & Richard Thompson
When First I Came to Caledonia | Norma Waterson & Martin Carthy
When Harpo Played His Harp | Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers
When I’m At Your House | Loudon Wainright III
When Two and Two Are Five | The Story
When Ye Go Away | The Waterboys
Who Knows Where the Time Goes? | Sandy Denny
Wonder | Colin Meloy
You Are the Everything | R.E.M.
You Don’t Know Me | Ray Charles
1952 Vincent Black Lightning | Richard Thompson
*If you don’t know what this post is all about, look here.
Come a long way
This is my 500th post.
Little by little, post by post, we’ve come to this point, you and I.
What started as a whim on a sunny summer afternoon in 2005, as simply a way to share pictures of the house move with far-flung family, has come to this.
Back then, I only planned on posting some pictures. I had a point-and-shoot camera and I let it make all the decisions. I didn’t think hard about what to name this blog. I was so pleasantly stunned by how easy it was to start a blog, I just… started it.
And then, inch by inch, mile by mile, we covered some ground, you and I.
We watched a house move.
We went to work and school.
We took walks.
We took vacations.
We tried new things.
We baked a heckuva lot of bread.
We watched births.
We said goodbyes.
We sang.
We fiddled.
We danced.
We made cider.
We learned to milk a goat.
We learned to make cheese.
We sat at the table with friends.
We moved a lot of firewood.
We read books.
We shared secrets.
We admitted fears.
We took pictures.
We cried.
We mourned.
We giggled.
We celebrated.
We wrote.
This outpost in cyberspace isn’t much. It’s not widely read. It doesn’t change the world. It doesn’t matter very much. Yet it’s come to matter very much to me, as a place where I can sort out my thoughts, try out ideas, and be creative. It’s a very real place for me, where we can meet and talk, even though the conversation sometimes seems a little one-sided.
I hope you know you’re in my head as I write. I love when you comment, or send me an email in private. But even when you’re silent, I love just knowing you’re out there.
It’s a big ol’ world. It’s easy to feel lonely, especially on a grey wintry day. It’s a relief to know you’re there, all of you, living your lives, and, at times, connecting with ours.
I can’t thank you enough for joining us on this little adventure.
So, what happens next?
No big changes, no new goals. We’ll just keep on moving. More posts. More miles.
More.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwB2A9HHaCU
http://youtu.be/3cJZyjF9PlQ
* To clearly see the component photos for the mosaic, take a look at the original photo.
52 Weeks ~ Movie/song title (6/52)
Jewish Vegetarian Kishke
Kishke. There’s nothing elegant or pretty about it.
It’s a homely dish of humble origins. Strictly peasant food, made from whatever was left over to throw into a bowl (meat or vegetables or both), combine with a filler (flour, barley, bread crumbs, or matzoh meal), color with paprika, and spice mildly with salt, pepper, and maybe some garlic.
As far as I remember, my family only ever served the Jewish vegetarian version (celery, carrot, onion, spices, flour, in a synthetic sausage casing). And there was no such thing as making it from scratch. Grandma bought it from the deli down the street, sliced it, and then baked it “to death” (just the way I liked it).
When I was a kid, I had no idea what kishke was made of. It was just… kishke, a delicious entity of its own. I probably would have been appalled to know it was made of celery, carrots, and onions.
But this is definitely a case of the whole being greater than the sum of the parts. Combine these ordinary ingredients (I bet you have most, if not all, of them in your kitchen right now), add heat, and what you get is something a little ugly and oh-so-delicious.
Close your eyes, take a bite, and isn’t it glorious? Greasy. Crunchy. Savory. The very definition of umami.
Kishke is not to be found in our neck of the northeast woods. Not even a frozen, lesser variety.
Until now, the only way to satisfy my kishke craving was to make a pilgrimage to that deli in Toronto and smuggle a few logs across the border. Yes, we do that (we also cart back chocolate bars, halva, bagels, challah, and, oh, let’s not get into this right now…). In fact, we have one of those precious logs in our freezer, thanks to my sister’s last trip. And we’re saving it for a special meal.
So, it’s been on my mind for quite awhile to learn to make this dish. This month’s Let’s Lunch theme—a song- or music-inspired dish—provided the perfect excuse. The recipe I came up with, after reading every vegetarian kishke recipe I could find, is pretty good. It comes as close to the real thing as anything I’ve tasted. It won’t keep me from stopping in at the deli in Toronto for a fix, but at least it’ll keep me in kishke between trips.
And the song? Oh yes.
So what if the song was inspired by the dish and not the other way around? So what if I never even knew the song growing up? It’s still a hoot, and you can polka while the kishke bakes.
http://youtu.be/0V4EkaCeTas
** I don’t care who the song says stole the kishke. I know the truth. After I sliced the kishke for a final bake, I left the slices unguarded on the kitchen counter while the oven heated. When I returned some minutes later, one of the slices was gone. The culprit? It was Hudson, our ever hungry, food-snatching cat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Want to know what songs the rest of the Let’s Lunchers are singing today? Read their posts to find out (I’ll continue adding links as they becomce available, so check back here for a full list later).
Tiger Cakes ~ from Ellise at Cowgirl Chef
Honey Mac Wafers with Coconut ~ from Lisa at Monday Morning Cooking Club
Tommy’s Chili ~ from Felicia at burnt-out baker
Purple Rice Pudding ~ from at Pat at The Asian Grandmothers Cooknbook
Banana Bread ~ from Rashda at Hot Curries and Cold Beer
Chicken and Dumplings ~ from Cathy at ShowFood Chef
Quiet munchies for concert-going ~ from Patrick at Patrick G. Lee
Coconut Cake ~ from Steff at The Kitchen Trials
Cuban black beans ~ from Linda at spicebox travels
Gluten-free Thin Mints ~ from Linda at Free Range Cookies
One Meatball ~ from Karen at GeoFooding
Smoked Brown Sugar Crème Brûlée ~ from Maria at Maria’s Good Things
Put the Lime in the Coconut Macaroons ~ from Emma at Dreaming of Pots and Pans
Pear Frangipane Tart ~ from Danielle at Beyond The Plate
If you want to join us for the March challenge (theme still to be determined), just follow the #letslunch tag in Twitter.
Vegetarian Jewish Kishke
Yield: 2 8-inch kishkes
Ingredients
- 2 stalks celery, washed and trimmed
- 1 carrot, peeled
- 1 small onion, peeled
- 1/2 cup water
- 1/3 cup vegetable oil
- 2 cups all-purpose flour (or as much as is needed to make a moldable dough that holds together)
- 2 teaspoons paprika
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon pepper
Method
- With a rack in the center of the oven, preheat to 350°F.
- Very finely chop the celery, carrots, and onions (you can do this in a food processor).
- Combine the chopped vegetables and all other ingredients in a bowl and then stir to combine.
- Divide the mixture into two equal portions.
- Place each portion on a separate piece of aluminum foil and form a log from each portion, each approximately 8 inches long.
- Wrap the foil tightly around each log.
- Place the logs on a cookie sheet and bake for 1 hour.
- Remove the kishke from the foil. You can slice and serve it as is, or can refrigerate or freeze it for later on. If you’re like me, and like a drier/crunchier kishke, before serving, slice a log into 2-inch slices, put the slices on a baking sheet, and bake in 350°F until the slices are browned and crispy.
You can serve the kishke unadorned, or you can top it with gravy or any sauce of your choice (tart, fruity flavors like cranberry and lingonberry go very well with it). Last night, I tried it with this balsamic-fig sauce and it was wonderful.
52 Weeks ~ I left my heart in… (5/52)
LeCount Hollow Beach, Wellfleet, MA
the pewter sky is darkening
in the undefined time
between the endless afternoon
of buckets and spades,
striped umbrellas,
sandy potato chips
and the offered evening,
when we, freshly showered,
will drive the well-worn route into town,
step into our favorite restaurant
order drinks, and review our options.
in this time between then and next
we sit on the slope of the dune
and watch the smudged line
between strand and sea
as it shuffles toward us
then hisses away
the man’s arms are around the woman
the woman’s arms are around the child
the dog is running on the packed sand
like a seal with legs
nothing will ever be better than this
moment
a three-masted schooner, sails puffed
like marshmallow balloons
could sail right along the shore,
the captain waving to us,
the brass buttons on his coat
sparkling in the last
sideways slant sunlight
and the moment could not be more perfect
than now
with the blurry line between sea and strand
with the girl and her sea-salted hair
with the pup racing the waves
with the man and woman
who have been through the worst
who know there is worse to come.
in a few minutes,
they’ll reluctantly rise,
gather up the beach toys and blankets
and walk the sandy trail to the cottage
home away from home
the evening beckons
the woman’s heart beats
the useless refrain:
stop time
stop time
stop time
A little Iris for your Friday
This whole Desert Island Discs project has me going through my mental music files, pulling out old favorites, noodling around on the Internet looking for videos, etc.
Here’s a happy find: Iris Dement is on YouTube. This is one of my favorites. I hope you love it, too.
Wordless Wednesday ~ Unexpected February gift
The songs in our hearts
In an effort to bump that self-portrait down the page a bit, I give you three bits of music-related news.
First, on Monday, the cast list for the spring musical at H’s school was sent out, and H was happy to find that she is cast in the role she was hoping to get: “Soupy Sue.”
What? You don’t remember Soupy Sue from Fiddler on the Roof? Or Oklahoma? Or Cats? Me neither.
The musical is Urinetown, a show about which we know little, but we’re learning. I guess when you’re the Oldest Secondary School in Vermont, you’ve put on all the obvious productions already…
In any case, it’s very exciting to get a named character role when you’re just a seventh grader, up against high school students, so we’re all happy. We’re also happy because the name “Soupy Sue” reminds us of the song “Soupy George”, so now we wake up singing “Soupy Sue with the soup on her head” every morning.
How long we’ll remain happy having that song running through our heads is anyone’s guess.
Second, M says my self-portrait reminds him of Leonard Cohen. I thought maybe it was because he had L.C. on his mind because of the new album just out today, but… you know, he might have a point. You be the judge.
Also, my mother’s family name is Cohen. So, there you go.
Finally, you know the terrific BBC radio program, Desert Island Discs, right? You know, the interview program where the guest chooses the eight discs (songs or pieces of music) that she or he would want with them if left stranded on a desert island?
Well, the program has just celebrated its 70th birthday and, in honor of that, we thought we’d challenge ourselves and anyone who wants to join us to compile a list of 70 songs or albums that they’d take to their desert island hideaway.
Are you game?
70 songs. Or 70 albums. Or a combination of both. It’s your choice.
Music you love. Or music that evokes a strong memory. Music that you just couldn’t live without.
If you’re willing, here’s the deal:
- Submit a comment to this post or send me an email (see the About page) to let us know that you’re joining us.
- Compile your list by February 14 (Valentine’s Day).
- We’ll figure out a way to share lists (check back here for news on that).
For bonus points, also name a book and a luxury you’d want to take with you (Desert Island Discs “gives you” the complete works of Shakespeare and the Bible for free, so your book can be something other than those).
Break out the sunscreen and hand me one of those drinks with the little umbrella, would you please?














