Crafts: Laptop Cozy...The Big Day

[Catch up on the drama of Parts I and II of this Laptop Cozy series HERE--Part I and HERE--Part II.]

It's been a long, hard road, my friends. The cozy is complete. Ends are all woven in. Garbanzo beans are all tucked into little pouches and lovingly wrapped in cut-up zip lock bags. It's been through the washer and the ringer to boot. Results are in...

But FIRST, for a bit of delayed gratification, a little lesson on felting! True, honest-to-goodness felting is a bit different than the kind of felting I'm talking about. Felting, like Fedora hat felting, is very similar to making hand-made paper. Basically, it is done by taking carded, unspun wool (also called roving), getting it wet, and placing it in layers into some sort of mold. As the wet wool is agitated, the little fibers will tangle with each other, creating a solid, tight mass. Let it dry and you have a solid piece of fabric that can be molded into something like a hat or used in kindergarden dioramas of cave-man dwellings.

When we talk about felting with knitting, it's essentially the same process, but using spun and knitted fiber. Instead of going at it free form, we knit a very big, loose item, get it wet, and agitate it to get the fibers to tangle together. The piece will 'shrink' and become a thicker, more solid piece of fabric--exactly what happens when you accidentally throw your favorite winter sweater in the wash. (Interestingly enough, it's the washing process, NOT the drying process that causes your favorite sweater to felt and shrink.) Yarns made of any kind of animal fibers (like wool) and that have not been pre-treated to be machine washable ("superwash") can be felted. Yarns made of plant fibers like cotton, flax, or bamboo don't felt very well, though I've heard of felting experiments combining a thread of plant fiber and a thread of animal fiber. If you're planning a felting project, it's really really key to knit and felt a sample swatch. Every yarn felts a little differently and swatching is crucial to determine the gauge for your original, pre-felted piece. In general, a piece of knitting will felt (shrink) more vertically (top to bottom) than horizontally (left to right).

To felt an item, first knit something rilly rilly big on relatively large needles. The looser you knit, the more the piece will felt because there will be more room to agitate those fibers. If the knitting is tight, there will be less agitation and less felting. Put the finished piece in a zippered bag (like a pillow case)--this will prevent your washing machine from getting clogged with little rats of loose fiber. Throw this in your washing machine along with a couple of pairs of old jeans (NOT TOWELS) and about a tablespoon of detergent (any kind). Put your washing machine on the lowest load setting and the hottest water setting. Let 'er rip! Check your piece every five minutes to see how the felting is coming along. You can keep repeating the first part of the wash cycle as many times as you need to. When it's the size you want, take it out of the washing machine, let the washing machine run until the cold water part of the cycle, and dunk your piece back in to get out the last traces of detergent. Many places advocate removing your piece before the spin cycle as sometimes spinning it can leave wrinkles in the fiber, but I've never had this problem. In general, I feel the risk is worth it to get out as much excess water as possible. All that's left to do is block your piece and let it dry. There's a good article about felting on Knitty.com: http://knitty.com/ISSUEwinter03/FEATfelthis.html.

Ok, blah blah blah, give us the good stuff! My friends, wait no longer. (P.S. Click on any of the pictures to see them larger--some of the detail is amazing, but hard to see in the smaller size.)

This is the finished, pre-felted laptop cozy. My idea was to have a fewer number of large nubs at the bottom and gradually move to more, smaller nubs at the top. The large nubs have about ten garbanzo beans stuffed in them and the smallest nubs have three. I ended up using cut squares of old zip lock bags instead of simple plastic wrap because I was worried the plastic wrap might actually melt in the hot water and figured the zip lock bags would be more durable. I used cheapo rubber hair bands to secure the nubs. Pre-felted size was about 18.5x22 inches.

And it felted beautifully. The fabric is really seamless and tight with barely a trace of the original stitches. You can already see in the pictures above that the fabric in the nubs didn't felt at all. Boy was I nervous to take them off, though!

And, ta-DA! There are the nubs! Don't they look like little cheese balls you want to pick up and pop in your mouth? Below is the full piece being blocked, and then progressively closer details of the nubs. The final piece measures about 11x14 inches.
When dry, those little nubby baubles pop right up. Of course now that it's all done with, I'm already wishing I'd done more nubs and in a different arrangement, but then again, because the pattern overestimated the amount of yarn needed, I do have enough left over for another entire bag...

And here's another thing--maybe y'all can help me decide: When I first took the plastic wrap off, I thought the nubs were cool, but wasn't sure I really liked the un-felted nub look for this particular piece. But now that I've been looking at it for a few days, I'm torn. I'm thinking about throwing the bag into the washer to felt again, this time withOUT any covering on the nubs. My idea is that I would felt it just enough so that the nubs softened and felted a bit, but were still obviously, well, nubs. I'm also kinda tempted to do it just as an experiment to see what it looks like (since we've already determined I'll soon be doing another bag, obviously). What do you think, oh ye sage crafters and opinion-holders?

Crafts: Laptop Cozy Update

The hour is nigh upon us. The laptop cozy hovers on the brink of completedness. I debated waiting to post anything until it was actually 100% and truly finished, but where's the fun in that? Plus, I think I might need a bit of hand holding through the potential disaster I have created.

So, the laptop cozy is probably one of the simplest patterns in existence. It's so easy that I have absolutely no plagiarism hang-ups about sharing it with you (though the original pattern can be found in Alterknits by Leigh Radford): cast on 65 (80, 80) [for small (medium, large)] and work in stockinette stitch until the piece measures 44 (50.5, 57.5) inches from the beginning. Bind off and fold the piece in half. The folded edge becomes one side of the bag. Sew the bottom and the other side shut using your favorite fancy sewing method. Weave in loose ends. Felt. Use scissors to cut handles. Presto chango, laptop cozy!

I made the small size bag, which calls for two skeins each in three colors of Lamb's Pride Worsted if you want stripes, or six skeins in a single color. First off, I didn't use anywhere NEAR this much yarn. In fact, I only used three skeins and still had some left over. I was a bit disgruntled about this because, as you may recall from my earlier post, I actually had three skeins already, but since the pattern called for six, I made a public display of myself by picking up the extra skeins from my local yarn store while out on a run. Anywho, at least the experience still makes for a good "yarn" (oh! oh! Ouch!).

I liked the striping pattern in the book, so decided to follow it instead of making up my own. The striped ranged in width from two rows to seven rows. Since the final piece was going to measure 44 inches, this translates into a lot of striping, my friends. It didn't occur to me until, oh, about 3/4 of the way through that this also translates into a lot of loose ends. That I would have to weave in. Later. Dear Lord. I smacked myself on the head and said, "This is what INTARSIA is for!" Intarsia is where you essentially have two balls of each color, one for each side of the piece. You end up not having any loose ends to weave in. (see more thorough explanations here and here.) Since intarsia is usually used when you're knitting some sort of complicated pattern like argyle or letters, it didn't occur to me to use it here (although now I'm wondering if this is why the pattern calls for six skeins when only three get used? Still seems a bit excessive, even so). Alas, my intarsia-revelation was too late to be of real use for me, but please learn from my experience. The idea of weaving those ends in was so effing annoying that this project was almost relegated to the "I can't deal with you until at least several months from now" pile.

Look at all those ends! Bleck!

In the end, rather than actually weaving in all the ends, I decided to do a whip stitch along the bottom edge and a mattress stitch across the top (cuz it's prettier and this is the part that will be seen), and gather in the ends as I go. I'm not sure how well this will felt, but it seemed preferable to weaving them all in. Fingers crossed.

Bottom ends woven in with a whip stitch

Top ends woven in--I think this is called a mattress stitch

Ok, at this point a sane person would be all hunky dory and ready for a good afternoon of old fashioned felting. But I kept looking at the finished, un-felted bag and thinking, "You know? I think I could do something more here." That's when I remembered a scarf that my mom once described seeing at an art fair she went to. It was a basic felted scarf, but there were all sorts of little...well...bubbles all over it. The way Mom described it, I pictured a clean piece of felted knit fabric, but with the kind of nubs you'd get if you were doing short-row shaping--like the heel of a sock. Mom said it was one of the most incredible (and expensive--$350 for a scarf!?!) things she'd ever seen, and she asked the artist how she'd done it. The artist said she took a piece of knitting that she was going to felt and tied bundles of garbanzo beans into the fabric, covered it with plastic wrap, and then proceeded with the felting. This way, the regular fabric felts, but everything covered by the plastic doesn't.

I've been eager to try this technique out for myself ever since Mom described it to me, but never had quite the right project. Until now! Yessiree, we're gonna get cre-AH-tive over here in Boston! Below is a picture of what the nubs look like so far. I gathered a bit of the fabric, popped in a few garbanzo beans, and secured a piece of plastic wrap over the whole nub with hair bands. I'm going to finish tying them up during the Patriots game tonight (cuz what's football for if not guaranteed, uninterrupted knitting time?), and then felt them tomorrow. Wheeee!

Cooking: Canning Inspiration

A little inspiration for all my friends out there madly canning and preserving and freezing little bits of summer for the months ahead. You're all such good little squirrels. This is from my new favorite artist Johanna Wright: http://www.johannawright.com.

Cooking: Basic Pasta Sauce

Quickie post this lazy Sunday afternoon--just wanted to share my basic pasta sauce recipe with all y'all. For the longest time, I didn't question the fundamental American assumption that pasta sauce comes in jars. Period. No further thought required. Then one fateful shopping trip, while tenaciously deciphering which pasta sauce had the cheaper unit price and then asking myself if this was a sauce I actually desired to consume, it hit me. I could actually make my own pasta sauce. My own! Let me share a little secret with you: at its most basic, pasta sauce is really just...wait for it...tomatoes. Yes, tomatoes. Eureka!

Now there are about a hundred bajillion recipes for tomato sauce (basic pasta sauce) out there. By all means, go forth and sample. But if you're like me and the idea of making your own sauce is a novel shift of paradigm, here's a good place to start. The veggies I give below are my basic mix, but you can certainly add or subtract based on what you have in your fridge and your tastes.

A note on the tomatoes: If they're in season, sauce made from fresh beefsteak tomatoes is to die for. Plan extra time for it, though, as it takes a good hour or so for the tomatoes to simmer down into a sauce. However, if it's the middle of winter, if you're short on time, or if you just don't feel like it, a can of diced tomatoes is a perfectly reasonable substitute. There is no shame in home cooking. Get a 28 oz can of your grocery store fav--I use "Nature's Promise" brand from Stop&Shop, from their new line of organic products. You can usually find cans with Italian spices or without, salted or not. If you want quick and easy, go for the pre-spiced stuff. If you're feeling adventurous, go for no spices, no salt and add your own.

A note for folks on Weight Watchers: The only ingredient adding points to this sauce is olive oil. Since such a small amount is used, I usually average this out to about 1/2 of a point (just to keep me honest). If you add in the wine, kick the sauce up to a whole point. Serve 3/4 cup of sauce over a cup of pasta for a good meal for just around 5 points.

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Emma's Basic Pasta Sauce
makes 6-8 servings

28 oz can of diced tomatoes with the juices--with Italian spices or not
or 2 pounds or more of beefsteak tomatoes (about 4 large), cored, peeled, and cut into 3/4-inch chunks
1 whole sweet onion--diced
1/2 large (or 1 small) zucchini--diced and salted (salt draws out the liquid in the zucchini)
1 red pepper (or orange or yellow)--diced
1/2 package of mushrooms--sliced (about 1 cup sliced)
3 medium-sized cloves garlic
2 cubes of veggie, chicken, or beef bouillon (I like using bouillon instead of broth for the concentrated flavor and to keep the amount of liquid used in the sauce at a minimum)
1-2 tsp olive oil
1/4 cup fresh basil or 1 tablespoon dried basil
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup of red wine (optional)

Heat olive oil in a large sauce pan or wok. Add onions and zucchini, and saute until barely translucent. Add garlic and stir until fragrant (about 30 seconds). Add peppers and stir until onions are fully translucent and zucchini is almost cooked through. Add mushrooms and saute for a minute or so. (If making sauce from whole tomatoes, do not cook the veggies as fully before adding the tomatoes. They will cook more fully as the sauce simmers.)

Add canned tomatoes (or diced whole tomatoes) and allow to come to a boil. Once boiling, add bouillon cubes, basil, and other spices. Reduce to a simmer. If using canned tomatoes, start water boiling for pasta. If using whole tomatoes, allow to simmer until sauce reaches desired consistency--between 45 minutes to 1 1/2 hours. In either case, stir occasionally.

Just before serving, stir in 1/2 cup of red wine if desired--this will give your sauce a nice depth of taste. Also, make sure the bouillon cubes are completely dissolved. There's nothing like chomping down on a bouillon cube to put you off salt for life. Or at least the next several minutes. But at least the faces you make will provide endless entertainment for any nearby guests, children, or other various loved ones.

Cooking: Fortune Cookies

A few weeks ago, one of the departments in my company became inundated with projects that had moved down the conveyor belt to their desks and all the folks in that department were suddenly up to their ear lobes with paperwork and books and e-mails ever-so-politely requesting status updates on particularly gnarly projects (some of which MAY have come from yours truly). Part good wishing, part joke, part peace offering, I made the whole gang a batch of personalized fortune cookies.

I'd been rarin' for an excuse to make these cookies ever since I saw it while flipping through a back-issue of Cooking Light at The Engineer's mom's house. They looked like such fun to make, relatively easy, and healthy to boot. All these predictions turned out to be true, but I have to admit that I was a bit disappointed with the actual cookie itself. While the cookie part of a fortune cookie is really just a clever vehicle for the afore-mentioned fortune, I still think the cookie should be worth snacking on. These cookies certainly tasted like Chinese restaurant cookies, but had none of the satisfying snap that comes when you crack it in half or the melty crunch of actually eating it. My cookies stayed relatively limp and chewy--interesting, to be sure, but not *quite* what I was going for. I'm wondering if a different mixing technique might be in order. Any suggestions?

Here's the recipe--por favor, give it a try and let me know your thoughts:

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Fortune Cookies
with grateful acknowledgement to Cooking Light magazine

Makes roughly 18 cookies

1/2 c. bread flour

1/2 c. sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract (almond or orange extract might be yummy too!)

2 large egg whites

20 fortunes (a few extra just in case) roughly 3 inches long by 1/2 high

Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees.

1. Combine all ingredients and mix until well blended. You should have a thin batter similar in consistency to icing or glaze (mine was just a bit thinner than pancake batter). Cover bowl with plastic wrap and chill 1 hour.

2. While batter is chilling, cover two large baking sheets with parchment paper. Using a biscuit cutter or drinking glass about 3 inches in diameter, trace three or four circles in a row along the middle of the paper. Turn paper over.

3. Spoon about 1 teaspoon of batter into the center of each circle and use the back of the teaspoon to spread the batter evenly over the entire circle.

4. Bake one sheet at a time for about 5 minutes or until the edges of the cooks are just started to get brown and crinkly. Remove from oven.

5. Use a spatula to release the cookies from the baking sheet. (Don't afraid to be tough.)

6. Working quickly and doing one cookie at a time, place the prepared fortune along the center of the cookie. Lay the handle of a wooden spoon or a chopstick along the fortune and fold the cookie over so the edges meet over the spoon handle. Press edges together. Remove spoon.

7. Pull the ends of the cookie down over the rim of a small bowl. Hold for a few seconds until set and then place cookie on a wire rack to cool completely. Repeat with remaining baked cookies.

8. Repeat entire procedure until all the batter is used. Store in an air tight container.

Calories: 37; Fat: 0.1 g; Protein: 0.9g; Fiber: 0.1g; Chol 0 mg; Iron 0.2 mg; Calcium 1 mg

Books: Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel

Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic
by Alison Bechdel

Quickie Synopsis: Fun Home is the story of Alison Bechdel’s multifaceted childhood, her guarded relationship with her closeted gay father, and her eventual realization that she herself is gay. Told in graphic novel form through illustrations, dialogue, letters, and journal entries, this is a memoir like none other. Readers familiar with her syndicated comic strip, Dykes to Watch Out For, will recognize Bechdel’s unique blend of dark humor, genuine sympathy, and fearless observations that cut right to the point. Part father-daughter story, part coming-out story, Alison Bechdel shows how intertwined these two narratives have become in her life.

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Bechdel crafts her novel in layers upon layers. Memories, experiences, and events link backward and forward along the timeline of her life and the development of the novel. As the reader, there is a feeling of uncovering each layer alongside the author: the journey through her memories is both unexpected and inevitable. Indeed, the level of introspection she reveals in her memoir points to a level of self-awareness that borders on the super-human or, perhaps, several years with a very good therapist. Bechdel’s overall tone is one of melancholy and relief, as if the crafting of the novel was in itself a cathartic experience, and now that the story has been told, she is released to move on in her life.

Additionally, this is simply an aesthetically beautiful book. From the bright orange cover that contrasts so gorgeously with the teal dust jacket and inside cover printing to Bechdel’s meticulous two-color drawings, no detail is overlooked. In her illustrations, Bechdel shows a clear mastery of her craft. Her line drawings are in essence quite basic—no splashy art school angles or over-dramatic shadowing—and yet she is able to convey complex emotions in the arch of an eyebrow and create a precise mood through the arrangement of characters and objects in a single screen.

Graphic novels are slowly gaining in cultural prominence and popularity, and Fun Home is right at the forefront of the movement. I highly recommend this book for anyone curious about the genre. Various reviewers have (favorably) compared Bechdel’s novel to Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi, but I honestly think that Fun Home is an all-around better novel. Unlike Persepolis, which I felt was a bit basic and simple (albeit well-drawn), Bechdel’s novel is truly a novel written in graphic form. It is as complex as any ‘regular’ adult novel, thoughtful and thought-provoking, and fantastically entertaining.

Crafts: Dying T-Shirts

A little background: Last year for Christmas, a friend gave me a copy of Alterknits by Leigh Radford. This book is full of knitting inspiration--unusual projects, gorgeous full-color photos (including shots of my former city of residence: Portland, Oregon), and lots of extra notations on various techniques. The project that very first caught my eye was for a t-shirt rug. "These simple rugs knit up quickly in garter stitch on size 19 needles and give you something creative and useful to do with t-shirts that have passed their prime" the opening project description promises. "Perfect!" I thought. We inherited one particularly 'interesting' rug from the previous occupants of our apartment that I've wanted to replace for some time. And surely, I thought, we must have 26 adult large or extra large t-shirts lying around the apartment just waiting to be cut into ribbons and reincarnated as a living room rug.

Setback Numero Uno: Alas, 26 adult large or extra large t-shirts were not to be had. That's a lot of shirts, my friends, even for a pack rat like me. No problem--I decided to put up flyers around my office asking people for t-shirt donations. Interest was expressed, eye brows were raised, my status of resident office crazy person was reaffirmed, and the donations trickled slowly in.

Setback Numero Dos: Despite the generosity of my co-workers, I still didn’t have enough t-shirts for my rug. Following the advice given later in the introduction to the project, I decided to hop over to Goodwill to round off my t-shirt supply. Unfortunately, the t-shirts were quite a bit more expensive than I’d hoped. At $3 a pop and needing another 10 t-shirts, I realized I might as well go out and BUY a rug for around the same price. At this point, I was starting to get a bit discouraged.

Setback Numero Tres: While mulling over my options, I decided I could at least start cutting up the t-shirts I had. The directions (and common sense) say to start at the bottom and cut one solid ribbon (about ½ inch thick) upwards in a spiral until you hit the armpits, then discard the top of the shirt. Easy-peasy, right? These are supposed to be “simple rugs” that “knit up quick,” right? All I have to say is, “ug.” Cutting a single shirt took me a good hour and a half to do, and man did my hand ache afterwards. Lucky for me, I was entrenched in catching up on the first four seasons of CSI and had many hours of crime scene sleuthing to take my hand off the slow cramping of my fingers. (If any of y’all want to follow my example and try this project out for yourselves, be sure to equip yourselves with a good pair of fabric scissors. I can’t imagine trying to do this with an ordinary pair of Fiscars. Double ug.)

Ok, so far, so very discouraged. But, as our friends over at Mason-Dixon Knitting say, “No project is too ambitious if you crave the result enough.” The more discouraged I became, the more determined I was to see this project through. And it was with this realization that the Knitting Gods finally decided to smile upon me.

Enter my co-worker, G. Just as I was about to lose all hope, I walk into my cube one morning to find two huge bags absolutely STUFFED with men’s extra large white cotton shirts. My jaw dropped. Tears filled my eyes. I may have blubbered a bit. G. pops his head in and says, “Oh, you got my t-shirts, then? I kept forgetting to bring them in. Hope they’re ok. See ya!” There had to be at least forty shirts in those bags. A few days later, another co-worker, E., dropped off another bag stuffed with (primarily white) t-shirts. Then my mom says, “Say, when your aunt and I come to Boston, why don’t I bring along some of my leftover fabric dyes and we can dye those shirts?” My bliss was complete.

Here follows One Girl’s T-Shirt Dying Story:

The dyes we used came from Dharma Trading Company. This is the company My Mom the Artist has always used, and my teenage tie-dye wardrobe can definitely attest that their colors truly are as brilliant and permanent as advertised. If you want to undertake any dying project, I recommend using their products: http://www.dharmatrading.com/ and http://www.dharmatrading.com/html/eng/3796-AA.shtml?lnav=dyes.html.

Meet the Dying Crew: My lovely mom and lovely aunt. Their help and guidance was much appreciated. In fact, if it weren’t for my mom motivating me to do this and carting her left-over dye from Minnesota, those white t-shirts would probably still be languishing in my closet.

With our bounty of white t-shirts, we decided to mix up several vats of dye: lavender, turquoise, chartreuse, and chocolate brown. A vat of dye is essentially a proportion of powder dye, warm water, and LOTS of plain table salt. Soda ash is then added later in the process. Soda ash fixes the dye into the fabric so it doesn’t wash out or fade. How much of each depends on how many pounds of dry fabric you want to dye (instructions and details for the exact amounts of ingredients will come with your dye order.)

1. Dissolve the salt in warm water.

2. Dissolve the powder dye in a small amount of warm water and then mix it into the larger vat of salt water.

3. Add fabric to vat and allow to soak for about 20 minutes. During this time, the fiber is absorbing all the dye it can. It’s important for the fabric to be completely bone-dry so that it can absorb as much as it can.

4. Dissolve soda ash in a small amount of very hot water and then add it slowly to the vat of fabric and dye.

5. Stir frequently and allow to soak for 30 minutes to an hour.

6. Squeeze excess water from fabric.

7. Rinse with cold water to remove any excess dye. (Do this a few times—the water won’t run clear, but it should be lighter in color.)

8. Wash fabric with detergent in hot water in a washing machine.

In the first batch, the lavender, turquoise, and chartreuse came out wonderfully. The brown faded to a rather unpleasant dirt color, so we decided to re-dye it. We also had a lot more white shirts left over, so we decided to mix some new powder dye into the vats already made to make some new colors. Into the turquoise, we mixed royal purple and made a nice deep violet. Into the lavender, we mixed hot pink and made a warm maroon. Into the chartreuse, we mixed emerald green and made a lime-green. The colors in this second round didn’t ‘take’ quite as well to the fabric and faded during washing. Mom and I realized that this was probably because the soda ash that was already in the dye from the first round prevented the new dye from being adequately absorbed and fixed into the fabric. Ah, well. Live and learn.

Next step is to cut all these t-shirts into ribbons. I think this calls for a Harry Potter movie marathon, fo shizzle. "I crave the result...I crave the result...I crave the result..."

Books: The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, by Anne Fadiman

The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down
By Anne Fadiman

Quickie Synopsis: When three-year-old Lia Lee arrives in the emergency room at Merced County Hospital in California in the grip of a massive epileptic seizure, a series of events is set into motion that will pit Western medicine against traditional Hmong medicine and that will leave all participants in the drama forever changed. Lia Lee is the daughter of two Hmong parents, refugees from Laos, and is diagnosed by the American medical system as an epileptic. However, her parents believe that Lia’s condition is spiritual in nature and resist the attempts of Lia’s American doctors (and ultimately the California state government) to interfere. The story of Lia and her family is at the center of The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down and is the crucible in which Hmong and American cultures collide.

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I always approach any book or article written by a person of American or European descent who is attempting to explain another culture outside the author’s own cultural background with a great deal of skepticism. At best, these books tend to be dry academic texts with little or no ethos, and at worst, they portray the cultural Other as a noble savage proudly clinging to their uncorrupted societal roots and systems of belief. A very few of these kinds of books, and the very best, focus not on comparing and contrasting each culture, but on bridging the gap. This is what Anne Fadiman does in The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down and she does it fantastically.

Throughout the story of Lia Lee’s illness and her progress through the American medical system, Fadiman ties in details on the history of the Hmong people, explanations of their medical and spiritual beliefs, and explorations of their community relationships. She makes no attempt to rationalize or otherwise “Westernize” Hmong behavior, and often outright admits that she remains baffled on several points. Instead, Fadiman lays everything out as best she can, supplementing snippets of interviews and excerpts from books and articles where needed, and gives guidance on how to best understand the information. Fadiman is fair in her portrayal and examination of both American culture and Hmong culture: she praises and criticizes both with equal measure, pointing out the strengths and weaknesses of each.

Beyond the content itself, Fadiman’s skills as a writer are what bring this story to life and give it the authority needed to carry through with such a difficult, complicated subject. Her pace throughout the book is steady, pulling the reader forward at a stately progress that is never so slow the reader loses interest, but not so fast that details are lost in a blur. Fadiman’s voice throughout is firm and respectful. She is confident of her facts and her research, but not domineering or overly didactic. Fadiman is also clear in her goals for the book and doesn’t overreach herself (as other books of this genre sometimes attempt) by trying to create a singular text on Hmong culture and history—the bibliography at the back gives an eager reader plenty of material to continue their edification.

Whatever your cultural background, it’s easy—no, that’s not the right word—it’s natural to accept behaviors from within your own cultural without question. You grew up with these behaviors and ways of thinking. Even basic things like looking before you cross the street and knocking before entering a person’s house are ingrained behaviors. In The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, Anne Fadiman asks the reader to make an effort to examine and identify those ingrained behaviors and assumptions, whether from an American background, a Hmong background, or any other background. It is not (always) necessary to change our behavior or to ask another to change their behavior; simply increased awareness of our own assumptions and increased sensitivity toward the Other’s assumptions will ultimately help to bridge cultural gaps and make it possible to find common ground.

Baking: Our Sourdough, Ourselves--Part II

This is my favorite, tried and true sourdough recipe. It consistently has a sourdough flavor that is not too sharp but has just the right amount of kick. The crumb is moist and chewy--and stays that way for several days. When made in loaf pans, the crumb tends to be a bit more 'fine' and spongy. When made in a brotform, bread basket, or baguette-shape, the crumb is more airy with larger holes (though not as airy as traditional baguette). By the by, sourdough will stay fresh significantly longer than regular bread because the 'sourdough' bacteria resists mold. Bonus for those of us who don't necessarily consume an entire loaf all that quickly (though I'm sure I could if I really put my mind to it...). This bread also rocks the house as toast with butter, French toast, bread crumbs, stuffing, and other yeasted favorites.

This is a traditional hearth bread recipe with a levain made the night before and allowed to ferment overnight. Levain is a term for one of several different varieties of 'pre-ferments.' Pre-ferments contribute to the leavening of the dough and enhance the flavor and texture of the bread. They are usually a combination of flour, water, and yeast, and the different kinds of pre-ferments vary in the proportion of flour to water. Some common pre-ferments are levain, chef, sponge, starter, and poolish.

Note: If I plan it right, I like to make the levain in the morning before I go to work and then prepare the final dough in the evening up to the step where you shape the loaves. At this point, I go ahead and shape the loaves, but instead of doing the final rise, I put them in the fridge overnight. In the morning, I let them come to room temperature and continue rising (the final rise)--about one hour or so--before baking them as the recipe directs. The idea for this was inspired by the delayed-fermentation method used for some slack-dough breads. I find the overnight rise in the fridge improves just about every aspect of the bread: the crust is more firm and chewy; the crumb has gorgeous, well-developed holes; and the taste is a bit sweeter and nuttier, though still distinctively sourdough.

Traditional Pain au Levain
This recipe is gratefully borrowed from Bread Alone by Daniel Leader.

Levain

1 ¼ c. (6 oz) flour (either white or a blend of wheat and white)
1 ½ c. (12 oz) sourdough starter

Mix this the night before and let it sit out on the counter overnight in a container with a tight lid. The levain will double or more in size, so use a container with lots of extra space. Mix all ingredients together at once. This will form a very stiff dough. (Photos on left are from after it's fermented overnight: Photo # 1) Side view of the levain through the plastic tupperware--see all the bubbles? Photo #2) Top view of the levain--kinda gross-looking, huh? That's ok. It's how it's supposed to look.)

Final Dough

2 c. (18oz) levain (entire batch)
2 ¼ c. (18 oz) water
4 ½ - 5 ½ c. (24 -– 29 oz) flour (either all white or a blend of whole wheat and white)
1 tbsp ( ¾ oz) fine sea salt (if you use regular table salt, add about ¼ to ½ teaspoon extra)

Mix and knead the final dough (20-45 min): Combine the levain and the water in a 6-quart bowl. Break up the levain well with a wooden spoon or squeeze it through your fingers until broken up. Continue stirring until the levain is partly dissolved and the mixture is slightly frothy. Add 1 cup (5 oz) of the flour and stir until well combined. Add just enough of the remaining flour to make a thick mass that is difficult to stir. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead:

This is what the dough looks like before you knead it.

Kneading Alternative 1: (This is the traditional kneading technique you'll find in most standard cookbooks) Add salt just before you begin kneading. Begin kneading, adding remaining flour when needed, until dough is firm and smooth--—about 15 -– 17 minutes total. The dough is ready when a little dough pulled from the mass springs back quickly, or if you poke it, the impression of your finger springs back.

Kneading Alternative 2: (This is my perferred kneading techique. I find I get less tired, the dough is less sticky and uncooperative, and the final dough has better developed gluton) Knead for about five minutes. Dump some of the extra flour on the board and roll the dough in it so its nice and floury. Let it rest for 10 minutes while you gaze at it lovingly. Before the second round of kneading add the salt (I always forget this--usually I put the salt shaker in front of the dough before I let it rest so I don't forget). Fold in the salt and knead for 10 minutes. Dump a little of the extra flour on the board and roll the dough in it so its nice and floury. Let it rest for 10 minutes while you make a cuppa tea. The dough should be a little tacky during this final round, but if it starts sticking to your kneading surface or seriously gumming up your hands, add about a tablespoon of flour. The dough shouldn't require any more kneading after this, but you can tell it's ready when a little dough pulled from the mass springs back quickly, or if you poke it, the impression of your finger springs back.

After you're done kneading, the dough should be smooth and pillowy, and it should spring back if you poke it with your finger.

Ferment the dough (2 hours): Shape the dough into a ball and let it rest on a lightly floured surface while you scrape, clean, and lightly oil your large bowl. Place the dough in the bowl and turn once to coat with oil. Cover with a clean damp towel or plastic wrap and place in a moderately warm, draft-free place until increased in volume about one-quarter. (I usually put it in my oven--—it'’s a gas oven and usually a pretty cozy temperature. In the winter if your kitchen is cold, you can pre-heat your oven a few minutes. You should be able to comfortably rest your hand on the oven wrack. If it'’s too hot for you to touch, the oven is too hot for the rising dough and it will bake instead of rise!

This is the dough right before the first rise.

And right after the first rise.

Divide the dough and rest (35 minutes): Deflate the dough by pushing down in the center and pulling up on the sides. Transfer the dough to a lightly floured work surface and knead briefly. Cut into 2 equal pieces, and shape each into a tight round ball and place on a lightly floured board. Let rest for about 15 minutes to relax the gluten.

Shape the final loaves and ferment (2-2.5 hours): Shape each ball of dough into desired final shape--a ball for round loaves, a 'roll' for loaves, etc. If you have a brotform, bread basket, or loaf pans, you can place the dough into these forms now. Alternatively, you can let the loaf rise 'free-form' on top of a piece of parchment paper on your counter top.

Shaped loaf in a 'brotform' or bread basket

Shaped loaf in a loaf pan

Cover with a clean damp towel or plastic wrap and let rise for about 2 hours or until the loaves have reached the desired size. Keep in mind that they will have a final burst of rising right after you put them in the hot oven! (I'’ve had many a loaf ‘spill over’ because I let them rise too long plus you risk the dough collapsing on itself and then you get a dense, brick-like final loaf. Bleck.) Forty-five minutes to an hour before baking, pre-heat the oven to 450 degrees. Be sure the oven rack is placed in the middle of the oven: —if it'’s too high, the top will burn, and if it'’s too low, the bottoms will burn. If you have a baking stone, place this on the middle rack and allow it to heat up with the oven.

After final rise

After final rise--both loaves are ready to bake

Bake the loaves (about 30 minutes): Using a sharp blade, score each loaf on the top by making several quick shallow cuts about ¼ to ½ inch deep along the surface.

Round loaf with score marks. See the ridges from the brotform? Cool, huh?!

This allows room for the crust to expand outward as the dough has its final burst of rising. Without score-marks to guide the expansion, your crust will crack on its own (see the horizontal crack marks on the side of the loaf to the left? I didn't score it properly and the crust didn't have enough expansion room. Still pretty and most definitely edible--I'm still getting the hang of this whole thang.) Slide the loaves into the oven and allow to back until the loaves are a rich caramel color (the baker's rule is that if you can see three distinct shades of brown, the loaves are done). My recipe says this takes about 25 -– 30 minutes, but I find that it'’s closer to 30 -– 35 minutes. To test the loaves for doneness, remove them from the pan and turn them upside down. Hit the bottom with your thumb. If you hear a sharp hollow sound, like knocking on a door, the bread is done. If not, bake about 5 minutes longer. Allow to cool completely on a wire rack. Don'’t be tempted to eat them right out of the oven because the loaves actually finish baking while they're cooling and the crust needs to firm up. If you cut them too soon, the loaves can get soggy and sink in on itself.

This bread keeps pretty well for about a week. Many traditional bakers abhor any kind of storage unit and say you should keep your loaves out in the air with the cut-side facing down on the counter. The crust gets really crust, but the inside (theoretically) stays moist. Loaves keep this way for a day or two, and then I personally think they're too hard to chew. I keep my loaves in big ziplock bags. The crust will take in moisture and be more chewy instead of crispy, but I usually like to toast my bread anyway. You can also freeze bread very well. I usually just put it in a big ziplock bag, squish out as much air as possible, and tuck it away. I recommend writing the date and the kind of bread on the bag with a sharpie or dry-erase marker--I started doing this was after the Christmas eve where I had about five loaves on the counter, scrutinizing them and sniffing mournfully at the frozen loaves, trying to find the sourdough loaf I KNEW was in there and really wanted to bring to Christmas dinner. *sigh* Learn from my mistakes, ladies and gentlemen.

If not quite easy-peasy, this is still relatively painless. Takes a bit of practice and perseverance, but you'll get the hang of it, I guarantee. Go forth, bake bread, god speed.

Baking: BBQ Bacon Pizza

Another quickie post here--I'm on vacation next week and am planning on spending some good quality time with my blog. I think I've got about 10 book reviews to catch up on...

Just had to dish (pun intended, ouch!) about the pizza I made last night, hailed by such fastidious food critics as My Boyfriend the Engineer as "your best pizza yet!" We had some bacon left over from BLTs the other night, so I chopped up a couple strips, added caramelized onions, and put a bit of BBQ sauce in with the crushed tomatoes. So very yum:

Pizza Dough:
1/2 Thin Crust Pizza Dough Recipe (see this previous post)

Sauce:
4-5 hearty spoonfuls of crushed tomatoes
2 tablespoons BBQ sauce

Topping:
4-6 strips bacon, cooked crispy and chopped into chunks (Pancetta would also make a classy substitute)
1/2 onion, cut into strips, sauteed, and caramelized for about 10 minutes
~28-42 grams (a decent handful) of shredded cheese (I used Sargento's Reduced-Fat Mexican Cheese mix)
handful of fresh arugula (optional--I put this on my half; the Engineer wanted "no green stuff")

Preheat oven to 500 degrees.

Roll pizza dough out onto a piece of parchment paper to desired thickness. Spread crushed tomatoes and BBQ sauce onto dough. Top with bacon and onions.

Bake for 5 minutes. Rotate and bake for another 3 minutes. Remove from oven and sprinkle on cheese and arugula. Return to oven for another 2-3 minutes until the crust is golden brown and crackly around the edges.

Allow to cool for about 5 minutes, if you can wait that long. Cut into quarters and consume with gusto.

Garden Update!

Quickie post while I wait for the pasta to achieve the proper al dente consistency. Garden is going well. Basil is my best crop, so far. I've been using it in absolutely everything. My first round of tomatoes suffered blossom end rot, alas. In talking to my gardening friends at work and folks at the farmer's market, I hear blossom rot has been common in a lot of crops this year in New England. I guess it's been too variously hot/cold or too wet/dry, and the plants don't like it so much. I chucked most of them out to encourage new growth, but kept a couple that didn't have it too badly, figuring I could cut away the bad parts. The next round will probably be ripe in another week. A few of them have a tiny bit of rot, but nothing like this. My mom and aunt will be here on Sunday for a week-long vacation (!!!), and I'm hoping to treat them to BLT's and pasta with fresh tomato sauce featuring Emma Grown Tomatoes.

Better luck with the peppers. With them, either the blossoms rotted before the even fruit formed and they fell off, or if they stuck around, the fruit is awesome. Check 'em out! Hard to tell, but these guys are about two inches tall--so cute! Every day they seem to get bigger. Kinda scary, actually. But hopefully soon I'll have a few meals of fresh peppers! Probably won't get a very large crop from these pepper plants in the end, but it's been well worth the fun of trying to get them to grow. I already have big plans for next summer. (Famous last words, eh?)

Baking: An Interim Sourdough Lesson

Kay, so after "Our Sourdough, Ourselves: Part I" I started getting really curious about the science behind sourdough, and really, bread baking in general. I've had some awareness of the science just from all the recipes I've read and what I've picked up talking to people, but I've never sat down to put it all together. Much of the 'science' some recipe authors give as background seems to be the stuff of legend, and there's a lot of garbled pseudo-science rumbling around out there.

Here is a little fact/fiction break down for ya, gleaned from my bread books and a bit of web research. Please feel free to correct/add/subtract/tell me I'm wrong. There's so little good info out there, I'd hate to add to the muddle. Also let me know if you have a question or come across another baking science myth--I'd love to look into it. Keep an eye on this page; I'll add new info as I go:
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Fiction: Adding a pinch of yeast as you begin cultivating your starter will help collect wild yeast from the air.

Fact: MEEEH! Try again! Though it sounds like fun, yeast does not happily float through the air in search of a good party. Yeast is a kind of fungus. Fungi absorb their food and reproduce asexually by division of cells (also called 'budding' or 'fission'). Yeast cells are also not mobile organisms able to seek out their food (or kinfolk); in other words, yeast has to live in or on its food in order to eat and survive. Adding a pinch of yeast to your initial starter is more like planting a seed or using a match to start a fire. Honestly, I don't think you even really need the pinch of yeast to get things going--the yeast will eventually make a home in your starter on its own. Certainly you should never need to add any commercial yeast after you've gotten your initial starter going.
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Fiction: Yeast eats flour.

Fact: Yeast eats sugar. Sugar comes, eventually, from the flour. Flour is made up of starch molecules (complex carbohydrates). Starch molecules are composed of many many threads of simple sugar molecules wrapped very tightly together. Something is needed to break down the starch molecules and release the sugar molecules. That "something" is an enzyme called amylase. Once the amylase breaks down the starch molecules into simple sugar, the yeast begins feeding on the sugar.
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Fiction: The sour taste in sourdough comes from dead yeast cells.

Fact: Honestly, I'm a little shaky on this one. Here's one definite fact: There's more than just wild yeast in them thar waters. Also in residence in your little pot 'o starter is a friendly, nonharmful bacteria called lactobacillus. The fuzziness here is that I can't figure out if the lactobacillus breaks down starch molecules into sugars for the yeast, or if enzymes still break down the starch and both the yeast and the lactobacillus feast on it. In any case, lactobacillus produce two kinds of acid as a by-product: lactic acid gives the sourdough its mellow, rich flavor and acetic acid gives sourdough its tang and punch. Another spot of fuzziness: I *think* one or the other of these acids is produced in greater abundance depending on the conditions in your starter, like whether you keep your starter in more of a liquid state or in a stiff dough. Liquidy starter (near equal balance of flour and water) makes more acetic acid and makes your sourdough more sour. A stiff starter (higher percentage of flour to water, about 2:1) makes more lactic acid and gives your final bread a more mellow, rather sweet taste.

Wild yeast doesn't actually contribute to the flavor of the sourdough at all. Wild yeast is necessary because it's made of sterner stuff than commercial yeast, which would die in the acidic environment created by the bacteria. The wild yeast is in there as the leavening agent (in the same way that commercial yeast leavens regular bread dough), and also produces alcohol and carbon dioxide as a by-product. (The carbon dioxide is what leavens the dough--carbon dioxide molecules get trapped in the web of gluten strands and lifts the structure up.)
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Fiction: Wild yeast is commercial yeast, only it lives in the air instead of a little paper packet.

Fact: Actually, wild yeast and commercial (or domesticated) yeast are two different strains of yeast entirely. Wild yeast is Saccharomyces exiguus, and commercial yeast is Saccharomyces cerevisae. Who'd a thunk it. Commercial yeast likes a near-neutral pH environment in which to do it's groove thang. Wild yeast likes the acidic environment of the sourdough. Wild yeast is also longer lived and can stand up to the longer, more rigorous process of sourdough bread baking.

Baking: Our Sourdough, Ourselves--Part I

OK, you can laugh all you like: My first memory of sourdough bread is "The San Francisco Sandwich" that the Hardee's fast food chain ran for a while back in the 90's. Now, we can stand here and debate the relative authenticity and perhaps dubious quality of sourdough bread served at a fast food chain until the cows come home. Whether it was truly the "Authentic Taste of San Francisco Sourdough" or addictive chemicals added to the dough, I was hooked.

When I first started baking a few years back, the idea of making my own sourdough bread seemed like a tall tale dreamed up to scare would-be bakers, and I regarded every sourdough recipe I came across with the appropriate amounts of reverence and trepidation. Ancestral recipes for sourdough starters and sourdough breads have a reputation for being jealously guarded, passed down through baking-family dynasties, and kept secret from all novices. There are legends of French sourdough starters that have literally been maintained for generations.

My friends, the truth is that sourdough is really, truly, verily not as scary as it sounds. No expensive 'starter' powders from foofy baking companies. No secret ingredients only available on the baker's black market. You don't need anything fancier than a tupperware container, flour, water, and a pinch of yeast to get it going. It's even easier if you can beg a cup of starter off a friend (or steal a cup from a fancy French bakery, hee hee hee).

If you feel like making it from scratch, here's how:

Creating Your Very Own Sourdough

To create the most basic sourdough starter from scratch, you need a big container (at least 2 – 3 quarts) with a lid, flour, water, a little bit of yeast. I have found that regular, run of the mill, all-purpose, white flour works the best (I use King Arthur Flour). For a while, I kept a separate sourdough that was about half whole wheat and half white. It worked fine, but it got to be too much for a lil' home baker like me to maintain two sourdoughs starters. I’ve also seen other sourdough starter recipes that use various ingredients like milk, honey, buttermilk, molasses, salt, and even grapes (see note at end of post). All these ingredients will vary the flavor of the sourdough. I recommend starting with the basic sourdough and elaborating once you get the hang of it.

Day 1

¾ c. plus 2 tablespoons (4 oz) all-purpose, white flour
½ c. (4 oz) water (filtered is best)
a pinch moist or dry yeast

Combine all ingredients and stir well to make a thick, soft dough. Do not add any more flour or water at this point. Scrape down the sides with a spatula, cover with a lid, and let stand at room temperature for 24 hours. Mark the side of the container at the level of the mixture with a dry-erase marker.

Day 2

¾ c. plus 2 tablespoons (4 oz) all-purpose, white flour
½ c. (4 oz) water (filtered is best)

The starter should have doubled in volume and have tiny bubbles in the surface. The initial bacteria cells from that pinch of yeast have been eagerly munching on the flour and reproducing like mad. Sugar and alcohol are byproducts of their reproduction (it's more technical than this, I'm sure, but that's another post).

Add new flour and water and stir vigorously to distribute all the ingredients and add fresh oxygen. Scrape down the sides, mark the level of the starter, and cover tightly for another 24 hours.

Day 3

¾ c. plus 2 tablespoons (4 oz) all-purpose, white flour
½ c. (4 oz) water (filtered is best)

The starter should now have the texture of thick batter, should have doubled in volume, and be quite bubbly. If you taste it, it will have a musty, sour flavor. It will smell of alcohol and vinegar. Mix in the fresh ingredients as with Day 2. Scrape down the sides, mark the level of the starter, and cover tightly for another 24 hours.

Day 4 and Beyond: Caring for your sourdough starter

Now your starter is ripe and ready to use. The best place to keep starter is in the fridge. The mixture will expand and contract a bit, but shouldn’t double. After a week, a clear or yellowy liquid may have formed on the surface and the starter should smell strongly of alcohol and vinegar. This is fine. If the liquid is tinted pink or smells ‘off’ then the starter has spoiled and you should throw it away and start fresh.

To nourish your starter, discard about one cup (8 oz) every week. Add in ½ cup (4 oz) of water and ¾ cup (4 oz) of flour. Mix well and store in the fridge.

TIPS: Filtered or spring water is best for starter. There are often hard minerals or chlorine in tap water that can kill or hinder the bacteria developing in the starter. On the other hand, potato water (water that you’ve used to boil potatoes) is excellent food for the bacteria and can be used in place of filtered water.

If you ever want to increase the amount of your starter, you can discard less or none of your starter. It’s most important to keep adding new ‘food’ every week.

If you want to decrease the amount of your starter or if you’ve noticed that the bread you’ve been making is getting really sour, you can discard all but ¼ cup (2 oz) of the starter. Add fresh ingredients and begin to build it up again.

Starter needs to be ‘fed’ about once a week, though I’ve gone as long as two weeks without having it spoil. If you go away for vacation, be sure to have ask a friend or neighbor to care for it along with the plants and pets! I’ve heard that you can freeze starter for up to several months, but I’ve never tried this myself. You can also keep sourdough on the counter, but it needs to be fed more often, which isn’t so practical for the home baker.

For this and other baking adventures, I highly recommend using an electric scale to accurately measure the ingredients.

NOTE: Keep in mind that the 'sour' flavor of your final dough is affected by lots of things including how long you've been maintaining the starter, how recently it was 'fed,' the manner in which you prepared the final dough, and even how fresh your final loaf is (I've noticed that my loaves will get more distinctly sour as the week goes on). Sourdough flavor also varies depending on your location. If you have a highly refined palate (oh, la la) and access to sourdough breads from a variety of regions, you might actually noticed distinct sourdough flavors in each loaf. I'll research an actual science lesson for another post, but the general principle is that the sourdough starter interacts with the wild yeast in the air where you live. Ipso facto, a true San Francisco sourdough can really only come from San Francisco. FYI, wild yeast is visible in one form as the film on grapes (which is why you might see some starter recipes using crushed grapes in the initial starter).

Our Sourdough, Ourselves--Part II: My favorite sourdough bread recipe....Coming up!