Yarn: Daisy Dukes--Oh, it is BROUGHT!

Well, y'all, the much-anticipated and widely discussed Boston Heat Wave of '07 (Forty degree highs! Meteorologists in a tizzy!) met with an abrupt and untimely finale yesterday when we awoke to a crispy layer of new snow over the still-unmelted varnish of ice on the sidewalks. But it left me with hope. Hope for a New Spring. I have historically been a big proponent of winter and all that is wonderful in the season, but for some reason this year I can't wait for spring. I can't wait for the farmer's market and to plant my seeds. I can't wait to wear all my impractical strappy summer shoes and my favorite skirts. I can't wait to go for runs outside without constantly being on the lookout for patches of ice. Yes, I know we've had a mild winter this year and got off easy with only one big storm (so far), but somehow, that has made me even more antsy. I'm ready to let this winter fade into memory and embrace the sun again.

And with the warm weather on the horizon, it is once again time to begin watching for that elusive and migratory beast: Campusious Hottius (a.k.a. Campus Hotties). Yes, the Engineer will soon be deluged with young hotties walking around campus pursuing such valid trades as sun bathing and too-short-skirt-wearing. This is what I'm up against:

I am not at all intimidated by these hotties (*cough,cough*...ahem), but I do find them infinitely fascinating. Since he spends most of his days on campus, the Engineer is constantly coming home with stories of Young Hottie sightings, stories that are usually accompanied by much shaking of the head and exclamations of, "NO! You're kidding!" on my part.

Ok, I'm not exactly intimidated by them, and to any young hottie wishing to snag the Engineer, I say "You best bring it!" But still...they do know how to make a gal feel, well, decidedly uncool. It's like these young'uns are constantly saying, "Yeah, I know ugg boots are UGGly and these shorts are too tight and this skirt shows my undies, but I'm so hip that I don't care. What are you, like, twenty-five? You're too old to understand." The aura of coolness oozes from their pores and you feel it in the specific passion of their disregard.

So this year I've decided to take a pro-active approach. It's time to make uncool cool again. It's time to Bring Back the Fashion. Yes, it's time for daisy dukes. And not just any daisy dukes, but knitted daisy dukes:

Daisy dukes, y'all! I missed this fashion train wreck back when it was actually "popular," but I feel the time is ripe for a come-back: Knittin' Style! We're talking soft blue denim yarn. We're talking belt loops made of i-cord. Fringe of elegantly unraveled bits of yarn. Oh, how to knit those interior pockets hanging so deliciously below the hem-line? My fingers do tingleth with joy...

I think I will base my pattern on the Sweetheart Shorts from KnitPicks (click HERE), though I'll have to modify it a bit to work in the pockets. Plus I think the waist line will need to be several inches shorter--we need to make sure those belly buttons get their time to shine.

And I know you're all sitting there wondering if I'll actually model my dukes in public once finished. Alls I can say is, all you Campusious Hottius out there? You best bring it!

Wine: 2003 Mountain River Pinotage/Shiraz

2003 Mountain River Pinotage/Shiraz from South Africa ($7.99 at Trader Joe's)

I first had this wine back at our Cross-Atlantic Holiday Festivus and liked it so much that I wanted to try it again when I had a chance to really pay attention to what I was drinking. At the time of the party, the wine steward at Trader Joe's had recommended it because he felt it would pair well with the highly-spiced Portuguese and Brazilian dishes we were serving. In my vague recollections of the evening, I remember being surprised at the strength of the wine--it wasn't a bad pairing with my food, just unexpected. This time around, I'm trying the wine by itself, unpaired with any food.

In the glass: Dark and completely opaque. Ruby-lit highlights when you hold the glass up to the light

Scent: This wine smells strongly of fermentation and slightly musty--like walking through forest with a thick ground covering right before it rains. There is a definite perfume of dark berries (blackberry, cherry, and maybe currant?). The scent is powerful and forceful--even with my glass sitting next to my computer about a foot away from my nose, I can still catch a whiff of berry and pleasant mold.

Taste: Heavy and rich, almost "thick" tasting. More of that mustiness in the taste as well--I think immediately of rich cheeses like blue cheese, gorgonzola, and roquefort. It's not an unpleasant taste, but not always one I'd want in a sipping wine. The individual berry flavors aren't as prevalent in the taste as in the smell, but the effect is still fruity. Very smooth, not a lot of tannins (that puckery flavor present in a lot of younger wines). The overall taste is quite bold. It really coats the entire tongue uniformally. There's no spiciness--it really "sits" on the tongue and lingers a long time after you swallow a mouthful.

Pairings and Culinary Uses: This would likely be a great wine to use in cooking--a nice tomato sauce, beef stew, glazes for steak and lamb. Might also be pleasant as mulled wine or sangria. I've also been reading a lot lately about making your own red wine vinegar, and it would be interesting to see this wine become vinegar and then to use it in a dressing for a salad with gorgonzola and walnuts.

I don't think I would often drink this on its own--it seems like a wine that's meant to be paired with food. However, it might be too heavy to go with the main course itself and would tend overshadow a meat-centered dish (like steak) rather than enhance it. If you want to pair it with dinner, go for highly spiced foods like Mexican or even Indian. I think this wine would be best drunk as an after-dinner wine. It would be fantastic with a cheese course or a dairy-based dessert like cheesecake, creme brulee, or custard where the flavors between the food and the wine would have a chance to play off each other and mingle.

Overall, I really like this wine. It's bold flavor is unexpected and incredibly balanced for an under-$10 bottle of wine! Because its flavor pairings aren't as versatile, it really inspires me to think of dishes it really would pair well with. It also makes me crave cheese, and cheese is always a good thing in my book.

Craft: Yarn! All I really need is Yarn! Yarn! Yarn!

Ok, first and foremost, an update on the Engineer Sweater. It's so almost done, I can taste the finished-blocked-ness of it. I am about a third of the way done with the second sleeve--the final piece of this puzzle. I made the Engineer stand still for me while I pinned the pieces onto him and checked that it was all going to come together ok. He was antsy to get back to his analyses of drag coefficients and centers of gravity, but oh no, sir. I made him stand for a full thirty seconds while a gazed adoringly at how perfectly everything fit and made little cooing sounds while stroking that symmetrical sleeve.

I am impressed, slightly amazed, and very relieved that it looks like it will fit. In what we'll just call "A Knitter's First-Sweater Mistake," I didn't think to double-check that my gauge was accurate until, oh, I'd knit the entire front piece and half the back. When I did, I realized that my gauge had mysteriously gone from perfect (at the time I knit my swatch) to much much less perfect (at the time when I gazed in horror at my ruler, counting and re-counting my stitches-per-inch). Just imagine--your perfect pattern-matching gauge is 10 stitches per inch, but your reality-sucks gauge is actually closer to 13 stitches per inch. It might not seem like a lot, but those little 3 extra stitches add up and...well, your sweater is going to be too small. It's a terrible, terrible thing to realize, my friends. Lucky for me, the Engineer tends toward the scrawny side and the smallest size in this pattern would probably have ended up being a bit large on him anyway. I did some measurements and enlisted some nearly-forgotten math skills and decided it would *probably* be ok. What's a gal to do but knit onwards?

Now, my energy for this project has been flagging and I have to admit that tried (unsuccessfully) to persuade the Engineer that one-sleeved sweaters are sure to be all the rage this spring season. He wasn't buying it and is demanding the second sleeve. Fine. This sweater will be finished before the swan boats return to the duck pond at Boston Garden! You're all my witnesses.

Side projects are a necessary and healthy part of any long term project. I give you, the Nose Warmer. I'm knitting two of these handsome warmers for a friend of mine and his son. They knit up quickly and are a good refresher course on short-row shaping--the 'nose' is very similar to turning the heel on a sock. I just need to give these noses some whiskers and attach the head-ties, and they're ready to go warm some noses. For interested parties, the pattern is over at Knitty--click HERE.

A few weeks ago, I placed a big order for yarn from KnitPicks so I could price out the cost for making hats and scarves for Angelina over at Dustpan Ally. I am so excited to have discovered KnitPicks. I've wanted to sell my handknits ever since my family started politely insisting they had enough hats, scarves, gloves, uteruses, penguins, and other knit items to last them quite some time. (Luckily, I've made new friends since who are more than happy to volunteer for handknits. Whew!) But the biggest obstacle to selling handknits is that it's rilly not cost-effective. Yarn is expensive! To recoup both the cost of the yarn and a bit more for my labor, I'd be needing to sell, say, a basic hat for at least $30 to the retailer, and the retailer would then need to mark it up again to make their money. So we're looking at a $50 or $60 handknit ski hat. Loony bins. Who would buy that?

Enter Knitpicks. Their yarn is affordable, very good quality, and available in a lot of different colors, fibers, and weights. It's pretty uniform, so if you're looking for the subtle beauty of hand-dyed or the unique texture of hand-spun, you're not going to find it here. But the yarn is dependable and good. My hope is that I can have a good base of these low-cost goods and eventually have clientele who would want and be able to afford handknits with more luxury yarns. I also hope that if all goes well with selling hats and scarves at Dustpan Ally, craft fairs, and the like, I can also start knitting larger, uniquely designed patterns like sweaters and bags.

For this initial, reality-based trial, I ordered a bunch of skeins of Wool of the Andes--a 100% Peruvian wool. For kicks, I also ordered a few skeins of Andean Silk--a blend of alpaca, silk, and merino wool. It was a bit more expensive, but I was worried that the Wool of the Andes might be too scratchy when knit and wanted to test out a different blend. (Update: I think Wool of the Andes will work just fine. A bit rough, but not at all "grandma sweater" scratchy. No offense, grandmothers out there. But still, you know what I mean.) I chose several colors that I will love to knit with (it's important to love what you're knitting) and that also will blend well together if I want to do any patterns: black, moss green, burgundy, dark blue, and cloud blue. I'm also going to play around with felted flowers, so I got a few skeins in pink, yellow, and orange.

With the scarves, I want to try different stitch patterns and play around with mixing stripes of different colors. One idea to make it a bit more interesting is to weave a strip or two of ribbon down the length of the scarf to add detail and texture. The hats could also have some felted embellishments sewn along the length. I'd like the stocking caps to resemble flapper hats. The felted flowers would be added as removable brooches over the ear, and I'd like to weave ribbon through the brims on a few of the hats by knitting a button-hole eyelets about one inch from the bottom of the hat. I have a couple other ideas for making these otherwise ordinary handknits unique and exciting, but I'm going to wait to talk about them until they're more solid in my head. I'm also planning on selling these under the name "My Three Loves" so am brainstorming ways to combine these loves of mine into a nice little package. Cuz otherwise it would just be kinda confusing and would be better to just sell them under my name. Any thoughts?

And last but not least, just when I thought my week couldn't get any better, I get this lovely package from Angelina. Months ago, I started coveting her canned goods after a particularly scrumptious post she wrote on canning pears in vanilla syrup. I begged and pleaded and made a nuisance of myself, but Angelina eventually took pity on me and agreed to an exchange of goods: A jar of gorgeous pears in exchange for a comfy scarf done in the style of my laptop cozy. Angelina, the yarn is gorgeous. I stroked it for a full fifteen minutes and daydreamed about what a beautiful scarf it will make. You'll all be happy to know that I've perfected my bubble-making technique since the laptop cozy, and think I've got it down to a science. A full-on felting like I did for the cozy might make this yarn too stiff for a scarf, so I'm going to experiment with some light felting to try and get a fabric that is still supple and scarf-able. Oh, boy I can't wait!

Also can't wait to break into these pears. They have held a place of honor on my counter since their arrival and it makes my mouth water just looking at them. I have considered and discarded half a dozen different recipes, still looking for just the right one. My most recent thought and the one I think I will ultimately do is a pear tartlet for the Engineer and I. We're celebrating a faux-Valentine's day dinner sometime in the near future (a.k.a. an excuse to go to the fancy grocery store and buy fancy foods!), and I think a pear tartlet would go quite nicely. Or I could just eat them straight from the jar with a spoon while standing at the counter in my pyjamas. That sounds good too.

By the way, if you haven't already discovered it, please do stop by Angelina's store, Dustpan Ally, and check out all the wonderful things she's got going on over there. The actual, real-life store is in McMinnville, Oregon, but if you don't happen to be in the neighborhood, you can also order off the web at http://www.dustpanalley.com/. Angelina is an amazing and creative woman, and I could buy everything in her store in a heartbeat.

Books: When Things Fall Apart

When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times
by Pema Chodron

When Things Fall Apart doesn't hold the answers with a capital "A" or preach dogma or threaten consequences if certain instructions aren't followed to the letter. It quietly and non-aggressively suggests an alternative way of thinking and living. This way of thinking has to do with being gentle with yourself and being gentle with whatever situation is throwing you off-balance--whether that situation is as mountainous as the death of a loved one or as quotidian as a rough commute to work. Pema Chodron draws from traditional Buddhist teachings to lay out some essential principles for living in our chaotic and changing world.

-----

My mother gave me a copy of this book years ago. She told me very matter-of-factly that it helped her through one of the worst depressions in her life, had changed the way she thought of herself and the way she lived, and that I should read it at some point. I have dutifully carted it around with me back and forth every semester in college, hauled it out to Portland, and shuffled it back across the country when I moved to Boston. It sat on my shelf beside the other "good for you" books (like What Color Is Your Parachute) that I knew I should probably read at some point. I picked it up a few times, but never really got much further than a few chapters. And like the good little English major I once was, sentences here or there are dutifully underlined and marked with stars and little margin notes. But something always came up, or I got bored, or another more exciting book showed up at the library, and I never got around to finishing it. My mom never asked about it. I think she knew--as I understand now--that it's a book you have to be ready for. You have to be open to what Pema Chodron is saying and be willing to listen. I just needed to know it was there and that when the time was right, I would read what it had to say.

I found myself in this place this past winter. My work at the Noodle Factory was distinctly lacking in compassionate mindfulness and the Engineer was stressed out with finals and the weather was completely baffling (being both unseasonably warm and also dismally dark) and I was stressed out with money and with that age-old question "How the hell did I get here and where the hell do I think I'm going?" I decided to take When Things Fall Apart to work with me and read one single chapter every morning before turning on my computer and while the entire office was still empty and silent. An empty office building is a different world and, I found, strangely conducive to meditation. And one chapter from this book is certainly not a bad way to start the day.

At root, the book is about being mindful--mindfulness being the act of being aware and honest and compassionate about what is going on around you and what is going on inside of you and what part you are playing in all of this. Chodron talks about disassociating ideas of "right" and "wrong" with the feelings, emotions, and reactions we are experiencing, and instead just accepting them as a part of the human experience and letting them go. We feel pain and fear when we cling too tightly to our idea of how things ought to be, and Chodron explains that the only way to deal with this pain is to experience it fully and to see it as an opportunity to learn something.

Up until I read this book, much of the Buddhist teachings I have encountered tend to feel a bit inaccessible and all too mysterious to an ordinary person. What's all this double-think of suffering leading to happiness and letting it all go in order to have it all? Why should I embrace hopelessness when what I really want is to feel love and happiness? Like a math equation, so much of Buddhist thinking seems to cancel itself out. This impression was probably a big factor in why it took me so long to get around to reading this book. I often think, "Oh, yeah, sure--if I were living in a monastery without worrying about how I'm going to pay rent and take care of my family and feed myself, I'm sure I could reach enlightenment too!" In the real world, things can seem a bit more complicated. Or at least insurmountable.

But one of the best aspects of this book is how grounded it stays in the real world. Perhaps because she came to Buddhism late in her life and after a difficult divorce, Chodron maintains a strong connection to the real world of bills, broken hearts, and public transit woes in her writing. This makes When Things Fall Apart accessible and understandable in a way that no other other text has approached. And yet, don't think that Chodron's explanations are so basic and pedantic that you can just breeze through your daily lesson of compassion and mindfulness and open your Outlook inbox without another thought. There is still a lot of that Buddhist double-think that we Westerners find so hard to digest, enough to give your head a good spin. But as I forced myself to read slowly and think through what Chodron was saying, for the first time, I found it all starting to make a certain level of sense. Her basic messages are often relatively straightforward, but the meaning and layers beneath the message may require several re-readings before the subtleties are understood. Often I felt that I grasped the concept for just an instant before it slid away from me, but in a true model of Buddhist patience, I tried not to struggle to regain the understanding and instead imagined it sinking into a little storage container to be examined later.

Some of the accessibility of this book and her other writings also comes from the fact that Pema Chodron is American and a native English speaker. Unlike other Buddhist masters who are well-known in the United States (like Thich Nhat Hahn and the Dalai Lama), Pema Chodron "speaks" the American culture and language. Since she also had to teach herself how to "think Buddhist," she understands the struggle this presents for the typical Westerner dealing with typical Western dilemmas. Pema Chodron is able to present these Buddhist teachings in a way that makes sense to her American audience and also retains the strength of the original wisdom. Her voice is personal and conversational, as if she's sitting on the couch next to you sharing a cup of tea. Her elegant writing is broken into bite-sized chapters that each focus on one simply-stated message, each able to be read in a sitting.

This is not a book that tries to convince you to become a Buddhist or that this is the only way you will ever be happy. Rather, When Things Fall Apart meets you where you are without judgment or marketing. It's a book to read slowly and carefully, while the office is empty and you have time to close your eyes, lean back in your chair, and take a few deep breaths before you start your day. And when you get to the final chapter and find you've only grasped a fragment of what you read, what's to do but start over at the beginning and read it all again.

Departing from the norm...

I debated for a long time before writing this post. I might yet chicken out and not actually post it. So far on my little blog, I've pretty deliberately stayed away from the really personal posts. I didn't want (and still don't want) this blog to turn into my online journal. Also, I have a hard time letting my guard down and telling people what's really going on with me. I always have to make jokes, be witty, make light of things, pretend that I'm stronger than I feel I am so that no one worries about me. I don't like feeling vulnerable. And I despise whiners. Especially whiners who don't realize they're whining or try to do anything to change what they're whining about. I don't want to be a whiner.

But here's the thing--I feel really...bummy. Bummy is both the perfect way to describe how I feel and also completely inadequate. I feel bummy in the way that I fully, objectively, rationally understand things aren't really so bad--things are pretty darn good, actually, if I were to tally everything up--but I've just felt a base level of...well, blue-ness. For a while now. Like a sine wave of ups and downs, and the average is just...bummy. Unexplainable. Or maybe very obviously explainable. But in either case, I feel like I might burst into tears at any random moment.

All right. I'm a list-making kind of gal, so do that tally. Here are all the fun, wonderful, inspiring, exciting, awesome things going on:

• Things on the romantic front with the Engineer are wonderful. And in fact...
• A few months ago, the Engineer and I decided to get hitched (glee!)
• I'm loving my blog and am constantly inspired to do new posts.
• It feels really really good and very right to be doing some form of creative writing again.
• After a lot of personal work, patience, and perseverance, things at the Noodle Factory ( a.k.a. my job) finally feel like they're taking a turn for the better.
• I have so many knitting projects I'm dying to do that I've been looking into getting a third arm. Though I guess I'd need a fourth arm too, since you need two arms in order to knit.
• I recently talked to Angelina over at Dustpan Alley and we're going to try selling some of my hand-knits in her store.
• After 6 months of not taking sleep medication and struggling with insomnia, I'm finally (and more-or-less consistently) getting a solid 7 hours of good sleep a night.
• I'm going to an info session at the Cambridge School of Culinary Arts tonight to get some more details on their Professional Chef program, which I've 99% decided I'm going to start doing in the Fall.
• Tomorrow, I'm meeting with a food writer who I contacted through a local writing program (the actual food writing class was cancelled, but that's on the list of bummy things), and am really excited to talk with her about the wily world of freelance food writing.
• For the first time in my life, I can jog for 6 miles straight.
• I'm really happy with my weight right now--something that's been a big challenge and source of stress ever since my teenage metabolism abandoned me.

Ok, I think those are the highlights. So here are some of the things stressing me out:

• Feeling like I've got too many balls in the air--but feeling like the not-fun things are balls that I can't eliminate and the fun things I don't WANT to eliminate because they make the not-fun things bearable.
• Even though things are better at the Noodle Factory, it's been a long haul and will continue to be a long haul and I'm tired.
• I've been snarky at the Engineer lately and that makes me feel guilty even though when I apologize, he gives me a kiss on the forehead and tells me not to worry.
• The food writing class that I was really looking forward to was cancelled.
• While getting married and planning a wedding is fun, I feel like it's my responsibility to make sure everyone is happy with how everything is going (my parents, the Engineer's parents, the Engineer, our friends and family, all of whom may or may not get invited and may or may not be offended by that). I feel very anxious when I know someone out there isn't happy with me or the way I'm doing something. It makes me want to elope. Except I still want a pretty dress and a party. (See, there's the joking to cover up how stressed and anxious this really makes me.)
• I feel like everyone looks to me to be the strong one and I'd like to take a break. (saying that made me start crying a little)
• Money is really tight--not "Kraft Mac n' Cheese for dinner every night" tight, but tight all the same.
• All my best shirts are getting pit stained. (again, the semi-joke)
• Although that I'm happy with my weight and my health, I have been putting a lot of pressure on myself to maintain it because I'm so terrified of losing control of it again, to the point where I worry that it's become unhealthy.
• I worry that I drink too much.
• It's the winter and it's bitter cold and it's dark, and I think this might have a lot more to do with the base-level of blueness than I realize.
• I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen in two years when the Engineer graduates. And that makes me both incredibly excited and overwhelmingly anxious.

So there you have it. I could really sum my feelings up (and all my longhand journal entries of late) by saying that I feel stuck. Or maybe trapped is a better way of saying it. Well, honestly? I feel like I am in the grips of something beyond my control. I feel that I've been working my whole life toward this--this moment, this time, this life--and now things are in motion beyond my control. And I'm terrified.

This gets complicated in my head, so bear with me. My idea of perfection is not what you might think. My definition of perfect is more of the Buddhist idea of being groundless--of knowing that as soon as you think you're on firm ground, the ground is removed from you. And also the idea of open expectation--if you don't try to control everything that happens to you, you are ready for anything, ready to take whatever opportunities arise, ready to listen to your heart and your spirit. And compassion for yourself. Understanding that mistakes and slip-ups are all a part of learning, and therefore mistakes and slip-ups are a part of being perfect by this definition. In fact, by my definition, making no mistakes and behaving socially perfectly is, well, imperfect.

So it's ironic, isn't it? Here I am, completely groundless. Hurtling through space. Being pulled along toward this future destination in which I am just a simple passenger trying to make sense of the scenery. Objectively terrific things happening all around me. All the seeds I have sown by being open and ready and listening to where my heart was leading me are now all coming to fruition. And I'm absolutely terrified. I feel completely unprepared. Maybe I never really expected it to work--all that Buddhist and spiritual mumbo jumbo I've eaten like manna for the past twenty-seven years. All I can think about is how I can reach normalcy again. How I can get the ground under my feet and rest for a little while. How I'd like a break from constantly thinking and analyzing and never letting myself give in to being petty or uncompassionate or lazy or human. It's exhausting.

I don't know. I don't have a solution here. Maybe that's the point that I'm supposed to learn. Maybe that's the cosmic joke--"Ha ha ha, Emma! You thought you were doing soooo well! You thought you were sooo enlightened! Ms. High and Mighty. Well, try THIS on for size!" Having written this, I still feel just as bummy and blue as before--though I admit that I do feel better for having written it and confessed to my spiritual hypocrisy. I welcome your thoughts and suggestions and hugs. I've been carrying this alone for a long time, never quite managing to get it said out loud. I don't know if I've really done a good job of explaining what exactly is going on in my head, but if I waited until I had everything perfectly (!!!) thought out and reasoned, well, I wouldn't need to write this post anymore, would I?

Angelina--thank you for inspiring me to write this post. It's reading your blog that gave me the courage to be honest with my friends and myself. And also realizing that writing something like this (which people other than myself will see) can actually be really healthy and therapeutic. We humans--sometimes our thinking gets stuck in circles and we need other people to sort us out, eh?

Knitting News: Nuns Flee Knitting Debt!

This shouldn't be so funny...but it is:

Nuns Flee Debt
Volos, Greece
An entire convent of Greek Orthodox nuns has fled to another convent to avoid paying close to $1 million in debt from their failed knitting business. The 55 nuns splurged on purchases of industrial knitting machines and by attending foreign fashion shows to get ideas for patterns. The wool clothes they made were popular in Greece, but the business went under when a bank called in the loan. The nuns are now holed up in a convent in Volos, as the Holy Synod negotiates with the bank on their behalf. (Quoted from The Week magazine)

Here's the link to an entire news article on this breaking news: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/6311443.stm

Food News: UnHappy Meals by Michael Pollan

"The story of how the most basic questions about what to eat ever got so complicated reveals a great deal about the institutional imperatives of the food industry, nutritional science and — ahem — journalism, three parties that stand to gain much from widespread confusion surrounding what is, after all, the most elemental question an omnivore confronts. Humans deciding what to eat without expert help — something they have been doing with notable success since coming down out of the trees — is seriously unprofitable if you’re a food company, distinctly risky if you’re a nutritionist and just plain boring if you’re a newspaper editor or journalist. (Or, for that matter, an eater. Who wants to hear, yet again, “Eat more fruits and vegetables”?) And so, like a large gray fog, a great Conspiracy of Confusion has gathered around the simplest questions of nutrition — much to the advantage of everybody involved. Except perhaps the ostensible beneficiary of all this nutritional expertise and advice: us, and our health and happiness as eaters."

I highly recommend taking a look at "Unhappy Meals" by Michael Pollan, published in the New York Times last weekend--to link to the article, click HERE. The article is super long, but well worth the read. Just the first page is a trove of information and revelation in itself. Michael Pollan is the author of Botany of Desire and The Omnivore's Dilemma, and he is rapidly becoming a spokesperson for a new (or rather very very old) school of thought regarding our human consumption and enjoyment of food. He advocates eating "real" food that comes from sources you can trust and using your common sense to guide your food choices. His writing is part history lesson, part scientific research, and the rest is just darn good prose.

The NYTimes sends articles to "subscribers only" archives pretty quickly, so if the link to the article is down, shoot me an e-mail and I'll send you the full text.

Food: Muffin Bake-Off!

It's a cold and dreary Saturday afternoon here in Beantown, USA--about time given all the warm weather we've been having here this winter. It seemed like a perfect opportunity to finally collect all my little recipe notes and taste-testing thoughts on my Lemon Anise Spice muffins and put everything together in proper recipe formation. Plus the deadline for the recipe contest I want to enter this into is Wednesday, but whatev.

I was hosting a Craft-ernoon at my house a while back and wanted to serve all my crafty little friends some muffins that were both familiar and a bit more...dramatic. Looking through my cupboards, cardamom immediately jumped out at me as a good pairing with the creamy flavor in basic muffins. Think chai tea with milk while lounging sumptuously on a red velvet sofa, and spicy after-dinner toddies just before you snuggle into bed. The anise was really added as an afterthought. I tasted the batter and decided it needed that something "extra," and was surprised at how the anise ended up stealing the show. A few tablespoons of lemon brought all the ingredients together (Lemon goes with poppy seeds and anise is about the same size as poppy seeds, right?).

The resulting flavor is exactly what I was going for--familiar ingredients put together in an unfamiliar combination resulting in something new. The primary flavors are lemon and anise, but that little touch of cardamom rounds out the edge and highlights the best qualities of both the lemon and the anise. The basic muffin recipe I use for this results in a denser muffin than you might be used to seeing. This makes it a perfect brunch item since the cakey fluffiness is a happy medium that both muffin and scone lovers can enjoy. Note: Other citruses would probably work equally well here--tangerine, orange, Meyer lemon...

Lemon Anise Spice Muffins
with thanks to Orangette for the basic muffin recipe HERE

Ingredients:
3 c. flour
2 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
scant 1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cardamom
2 Tbsp anise seed
3/4c + 1 Tbsp milk
2 Tbsp buttermilk
4 oz unsalted butter (at room temperature)
3/4 c + 1 Tbsp sugar
2 large eggs (warmed to room temperature)
2 Tbsp lemon zest (about the zest of 2 medium lemons)

Note: It's important for the butter and eggs to be at room temperature.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit with rack on the middle position. Line a 12-cup muffin tin with muffin liners (or spray with non-stick coating).

In a medium-sized bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cardamom, and anise. In a separate measuring cup, combine the milk and butter milk and set aside.

In the bowl of a stand-mixer or using an electric hand mixer, beat the butter and sugar on medium-high speed until light and fluffy. Add the lemon zest to the butter-sugar mixture and mix until just combined. Add the eggs one at a time, beating after each addition until just combined and no trace of yolk is visible.

With the mixer on low, pour in one-third of the milk mixture and then one-third of the dry ingredients. Continue to alternate between the milk and dry ingredients until all ingredients are incorporated. Your dough should look pale yellow and shaggy.

Divide the batter between the twelve cups and bake until the muffins are firm to the touch and a cake-tester inserted into the center muffin comes out clean--about 25-30 minutes.

The muffins are wonderful on their own, but you can also brush the tops with melted butter and press them into confectioner's sugar for an added treat.

WeightWatchers: Using 1% milk, 12 muffins is 5.5 points per muffin. These make pretty big muffins though, so you can easily make 24 muffins out of the same recipe and still have a healthy muffin to munch on. If you make 24 muffins, each muffin is about 2.75 points each.

Food: Sausage, Barley, and Alien Soup

At first we were afraid. Very afraid. Imagine, Emma the Innocent is innocently chopping vegetables for a nice pot o' sausage, barley, and mushroom soup. Engineer the Brilliant is expounding on vector-based something-or-other, which involve moments of gobbledegook and forces corresponding to jibberish. Emma the Innocent nods sagely and pulls another parsnip from the grocery bag....or DOES she?! Screams of terror! Vector-based forces collide in moments! Counter attack--we'll EAT him out!
When that proved too crunchy and tasteless, we decided to make friends. Here's the Engineer and his new friend communing.
Aw, shucks. We're gonna miss that little guy!And then we decided to sacrifice him to the Gods of Hunger and put him in our soup pot. As if in comic retribution, the resulting soup was bitter and lacked depth of flavor. I've made this soup before with wonderful, no-leftovers-left-over results, so I can only conclude that parsnips are not a good substitute for carrots (which I loathe) in this particular dish. The whole time I choked down my bowl, I kept thinking, "Dang. I really just want the taste of potatoes in this." So next time? Potatoes.

In an attempt to salvage the rest of the pot, I tried sprinkling my next bowl with a healthy portion of freshly grated Parmesan cheese. (Cheese can never hurt, right? Though I was worried about wasting my lovely Parmigiano Reggiano...) While parsnips still are definitely not the best choice for this soup, with the addition of cheese, the soup went from "inedible" to "acceptably decent." It wasn't until days later while reading "Umami: A Taste By Any Other Name" by Rowan Jacobson (published in The Art of Eating, Issue No. 72) when I realized that what was lacking in the soup--and what the Parmesan made up for--was the flavor of umami.

Umami literally means "the essence of deliciousness" in Japanese, and is a legitimate fifth taste with its very own taste buds alongside those responding to sweet, sour, salty, and bitter. At its most basic, the flavor of umami comes from the amino acid glutamate (of the ill-famed MSG additive). The umami flavor can perhaps best be described as 'savory' and is found in protein based foods where the protein has begun to break down--like aged and cured beef, anchovies, soy sauce, and, yes, you guessed it, Parmesan cheese. In fact, the little tiny white crystals in Parmigiano Reggiano are granules of an amino acid with umami flavor. As Rowan Jacobsen says in his article, "Whenever a soup or sauce 'needs something,' chances are that something is umami--and, chances are, a Western cook will mistakenly add salt instead." Oops. Guilty. Too bad I didn't read that article until after I'd made the soup...

Here is the soup recipe for your very own experiments. Unless you feel like playing around with umami, I'd recommend leaving the parsnips to their alien conspiracies. The original recipe (found HERE) calls for celery and carrots, but since I don't like those things, I leave them out. I might try adding potatoes for a little more body and starch next time I make it, but I've also made it a few times with the recipe exactly as I've written it below and loved it. Enjoy!

Sausage, Barley, & Mushroom Soup
Makes 4-6 one-cup servings

• 1 large onion, diced
• 4 links of turkey or chicken sausage (spicy or sweet, as you prefer)--slit each link down the center and remove from casing. Break into crumbly pieces with your fingers. (Or you can chop them if you're grossed out.)
  
• 4 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 bay leaf
• 2 tablespoons fresh thyme, chopped
• 1 1/2 cups of portobello or baby bella mushrooms (I use 1 carton from the store)
• 5 cups shiitake mushrooms (about 1/2 lb), stems discarded and chopped (this is best when mushrooms are in season and you can find them at farmer's markets. Otherwise, I add a second carton of baby bella mushrooms.)
• 1 cup barley
• 6 cups chicken stock
• Salt and Pepper to taste

In a large stock pot, saute the onion in a few teaspoons of oil until soft and translucent. Add the sausage and cook until the sausage is browned. Add garlic, bay leaf, and thyme and stir until garlic is fragrant. Add mushrooms and cook until mushrooms just begin to sweat and shrivel. Add chicken broth and barley.

With the lid off, bring the soup to a boil. Once boiling, cover and reduce to a simmer. The soup is done when the barley is tender. If you have quick-cooking barley, the soup will be ready in about 15 minutes. Regular pearl barley will take about 45 minutes. Check seasonings and add salt and pepper to taste.

WeightWatcher's Notes: I use Al Fresco Chicken Sausage in this soup, which is 70% less fat than regular sausage. It comes in a lot of good flavors and the quality is good for use in soups like this. Depending on the flavor you get, one link is 3 - 4 points. The pot usually makes about 6 cups or more, so a serving is about 3.5 points for a one-cup serving. Depending on the type of sausage you find, you should double check the points. The total for the entire pot of soup before adding the sausage is 6 points.

And don't forget, Parsnip Aliens have feelings too.

Touring the Dome Home

I love love love my parent's dome home in Minnesta! The geodesic dome home was originally designed by Buckminster Fuller and is rather ubiquitous with the 50's and 60's hippiedom. This particular dome home resides a few miles outside of Northfield, Minnesota, in the middle of corn and bean fields. It's tucked into a little horseshoe-shaped hollow of land left by the last glacier, and the sandy, rocky soil on this postage-stamp of land made it less ideal for farming than the surrounding land. My parents bought the house from the original owner in 2001 and quickly got to work ripping out the fine and impressive aqua, orange, and brown patterned carpet in the kitchen and punching more windows into the walls. It was a diamond in the rough, to say the least. There was an article about the resurgence of dome homes in the NY Times recently; if you'd like to read the article, click HERE.

Unfortunately, moving into this house happened just as I left for college, so I've never actually 'lived' here. Even so, it feels more like my home than about anywhere else I've lived in my life, and going home to it always feels like getting away to a special haven. My parents have done such an incredible job on the inside--the entire space is cozy and warm and inviting. They found a really nice balance between beautifully designed spaces (like the banister going up to the second floor) and technical utility (like the organization of cabinets and the island in the kitchen).

Many of you have expressed varying degrees of wonder, mystification, and suspicion when I mention that my parents live in a dome home, so I thought I'd share some Dome Home Pix that I took on my last trip home (click on any of the photos to see them full-sized):
These are some outdoor shots I took after the one big snowstorm we had while I was home. It snowed for almost twenty-four hours and I woke up the next morning to see all the trees rimmed with snow and the bluest sky you could imagine. It was like a fairy land. The top picture shows the driveway in the foreground. The hill in the background is in the west, and in the summer we like to climb up this hill to watch the sunset (if you can stand the mosquitoes or bring enough industrial strength insect repellent, that is). The second picture is toward the 'front yard' and runs up against the dirt road that goes to my parent's house. Most of the property is forested, but my parents are gradually restoring this front space to natural prairie.And these are some indoor shots looking outdoors at the rapidly melting snow. The first is of the big rose window at the front of the house. It looks out over the front yard area. The second picture is looking out the kitchen windows at the back yard. My parents built a gazebo and wrap-around deck there a few summers ago--you can see those most clearly in the first image at the beginning of the post.
And here's the kitchen itself. When we first moved in, this was a little closet of a room. There was just one window, I think, and it was entirely enclosed with only a little doorway leading to the dining room where the stove is now. The original owners had hung dark wood cabinets and laid down that infamous aqua, orange, and brown carpet. My parents pretty much ripped everything out, pushed the walls back, redid the lighting, and turned the space into somewhere you actually want to spend time. On the other side of the wall to the right of the picture is a little dining area sandwiched between the kitchen and the fireplace.
This is the living room and is almost a mirror opposite of the kitchen.
Here is the main room of the dome. If you picture the dome like a pie, the kitchen and living room are each a quarter of the pie and this area is the other half. It is open all the way up to the roof and is lined with pine wood. Aerial shots are below!
My cutie-pie mother modeling in front of the new staircase. My mombo is an artist and worked with the carpenters to make the design. You can't see it in these pictures, but between some of the slats in the railing are empty squares; for Christmas, my mom hung ornaments in the squares--so cool. That beam in the center is a support beam at the center of the house, by the way.

To orient you, 'behind' me is the main open living space. To the right is the dining room and you can just see the kitchen beyond that. Using our x-ray vision to see through the wall behind Mom, there's the ground floor bathroom and the living room. On the second floor, to the right is my parent's bedroom. To the left is one bedroom with stairs leading to the cupola. Directly ahead is both the second floor bathroom and a second bedroom.
An aerial shot of the big living area from the second floor landing.
This is inside my parents room. Again, thinking of the house as a pie, the open living area still takes up half. My parents' room is another quarter (above the kitchen), and the two bedrooms are each a fourth of the last quarter. Roughly. The bathrooms for both the ground floor and this second floor are right in the center of the pie.

Originally, all these bedrooms just had boring, ugly particle board. I think they were supposed to be lined with pine like the main living area, but the owner ran out of money or wood or energy. The particle board has always been kind of an eyesore, so this summer, my mom painted over the particle board and the trim between the triangles with different contrasting colors. In my parent's room, the colors are white, red, and coral.

In this photo, behind me is the bed and the door leading out to the landing and the closet space is to the left. Right ahead, the bookshelf divides the room a bit; behind the bookshelf is more shelf space for clothes and my parent's bathroom. See that painted fireplace screen in the mid-ground directly below the windows? Yup, that's a 'privacy screen' for the cat's litter box. Goodness me.
My mom might kill me for including this picture, but I had to! This is the bathroom in my parent's room and I just love the way they put in the cabinet space! Look how perfectly fitted into every nook and cranny all the cabinets are! Amazing! The attention to detail! Astounding!This is the bedroom directly ahead of you if you're looking at the picture of the staircase above. My dad works half of the week in Iowa and half from home, so this room doubles as his office when vacationing daughters aren't loafing about sleeping until noon. I love how you can see the slope of the roof in this shot. One of my favorite things is falling asleep in one of these bedrooms during a rainstorm. It's so cozy and snug, kind of like sleeping in a tent. The colors in this room are three different shades of green. The bed is directly behind me and the doorway to the hall is to the right.And now my favorite room in the house--the hobbit hole. This room is just big enough for a twin-size bed and a bookshelf. Actually, this bookshelf was my first Big Girl bookshelf that I got when I was about five years old. You can barely see it in the shot, but to the left of the picture is a tiny little built in desk. I spent many happy hours at this desk organizing and re-organizing my office. Behind me in this picture, there was originally a wall-length closet. But that got torn out to make room for...
...The staircase up to the cupola! Oh, man, if I lived in this house, you'd never get me away from here. Prior to this, the cupola was more of an attic that could only be accessed by one of those pull-down ladders set into the ceiling. Building an actual staircase up there was something we dreamed about, but I never actually thought it would happen. Oh, and see that funny-face picture on the wall? Yup, that's a picture of Ernie and the Tweedle Bugs from Sesame Street that I drew oh so many years ago.
Here are the stairs.
And here's the little cupola! I'm 5'2, and I can barely stand up in here. It's literally the crown of the dome, and there are little eye-level windows set along the top. The bed and bookshelves are built in. The rug is a Kaffe Fasset design and goes perfectly with all the little design elements my mom has decorated the space with--red vases with paper flowers, painted barrels filled with warm blankets, little tin ornaments. Almost every night during my vacation, my mom and I brought tea and toast up here after everyone else had gone to sleep and read until we couldn't keep our eyes open anymore.
And the crowning picture--this is the aerial view of the main room as seen from the cupola at the top of the house. I've suggested installing a slide from the cupola down to the main floor, but I think my parent's thought I was joking. Seriously. A slide. It would totally tie everything together. Think about it.

Oh, it's so hard to leave Minnesota! I love this house, and I also love spending time with my family. Mom and I almost completed several sewing projects (some last-minute snafus got us off schedule), we watched lots of reruns while knitting (the Engineer's sweater is so almost done, it's killing me), Dad and I baked bread, we ate good food, we all lounged in front of the fireplace and put together puzzles. *sigh* All in all, a most excellent vacation.

Cooking: Don't be a Chicken!

I became a vegetarian my senior year in high school and only started eating meat again years later after making three very tough realizations:

1. The "for real" reason why I became a vegetarian was because my boyfriend decided to go veg and so I did too.
2. The vegetarian and I had broken up years ago.
3. I like meat.

Whether it's admitted or not, I think many people of my generation fell prey to the allure of vegetarianism not for ethical or altruistic reasons, but because it was cool at the time. Now, I fully recognize that for some folks vegetarianism was a good fit and what started as a fad became genuine heartfelt philosophy. But for the rest of us, I think we knew in our heart of hearts that we didn't quite belong. Oh, I was able to spout the memorized lines from the brochures along with the best of them, but I knew I was a liar.

I felt guilty and torn and miserable: a Judah among vegetarians. I just never stopped wanting meat. I craved it with a passion. I salivated at the sight of a big juicy cheeseburger. My stomach rumbled for bacon at brunch. I drooled for fried chicken (indeed, chicken fingers would be my ultimate downfall). When I admitted this to the seasoned vegetarians, they would nod reassuringly and say, "Don't worry. The longer you're a vegetarian, the less appeal meat will have for you." I trusted, I believed, I tried all the faux-meats I could get my hands on. I even tried NOT eating the faux-meats, thinking that maybe the faux-meats were just compounding my desire for real meat. Ultimately, I had to admit that I had a problem: I just wasn't a vegetarian.

I strongly believe in the ethical treatment of animals. I believe that consuming organically-raised and free-range animals is better for reasons of health, sustainability, and long-term economy. However, I do not believe that humans are natural vegetarians. I believe humans are true omnivores, and from a biological perspective, we are meant to eat meat--along with grains, vegetables, legumes, and other edibles. I believe that being a vegetarian is a choice made for personal, religious, or ethical reasons, not because it's a natural state of being for humans.

I also believe that it's ok to kill animals for food. I would prefer that the killing and butchering is done in a moral way and in a way that is as respectful of the animal as it is of the people the animal is going to feed. This is why I buy local, organic, and free-range meat whenever possible and affordable. One of the attitudes of the general vegetarian movement that I found (and still find) most problematic is that by declaring it immoral to kill another animal for consumption, vegetarians are removing themselves and humans further from nature. Animals killing other animals for food is an integral part of what it means to exist in the natural world. If we say that it's wrong for humans to kill other animals for food, this elevates us above nature and distances us from the very thing we are claiming to care for.

This anthropocentric attitude is a very slippery slope. In our attempts to protect nature and act as steward to the environment, it's easy to forget that we are also a part of nature and are subject to the same grisly, unpleasant, natural rules as all other creatures. There are valid religious reasons for not killing other animals for food, some of which I respect and some of which I still find troubling, but many of these religions also have a counterbalancing philosophy that grounds followers firmly in the natural world.

Incidentally, I think that it's a real problem that humans have no real predators in the natural world at this point in history. We need a few predators (and other humans don't count) to keep us honest and remind us that we're not as in charge of things as we think.

When I first began eating meat again, I usually only ate it when it was being prepared for me. On my own, I usually cooked with tofu and only the occasional chicken breast. I didn't really know how to prepare meat so that it tasted good and also so that I knew I was being sanitary. And truthfully, ashamedly, grudgingly, I admit that I was squeamish. And still am. Though my attitude is slowly changing, my initial reaction to most raw meat is, "Ewwwww." It jiggles. It's sometimes bloody. There are little veins and tendons and sinews. And it's really really hard to forget that this thing I am inexpertly hacking into pieces on my counter was once a living creature.

But if I am going to be a meat-eater, these are the things that I need to deal with. Part of respecting this creature who died to feed me is actively remembering--not forgetting--that this animal with its innermost parts exposed on my counter was indeed once alive. I work to see the beauty in an otherwise decidedly unbeautiful moment. When I can afford it, I respect the animal by choosing one that was raised and killed in an ethical way. I also respect the animal by learning how to cook it properly.

To this end, a few weeks ago I decided that it was time to learn how to prepare a whole chicken.

Don't Be a Chicken: The Novice's Guide to Cooking a Whole Chicken

To feed four hungry people with enough leftover for a batch of enchiladas, all you need is a 4-pound chicken. In various recipes, you might see this referred to as a "roaster." In point of fact, the categories of chickens available for purchase break down like this:

Broilers: Young chickens of either sex that weigh about 2 1/2 pounds
Fryers: Young chickens of either sex that weight about 2 1/2 - 3 1/2 pounds
Roasters: Chickens of either sex, under 8 months old, and weigh 3 1/2 to 5 pounds
Stewing Chickens: Chickens over 10 months old (their meat is tougher and more stringy, so this type of chicken is best used in dishes like stews, as the name implies, that provide a long cooking time to break down the meat.)
Capons: Castrated males that weigh 6 - 8 pounds

When picking a chicken in the grocery store, check first for the sell-by date to find the freshest (as with any meat). I recommend always buying fresh birds that are not frozen (check the label, as sometimes birds will be frozen for transportation and then thawed at the market before being placed for sale.) As well as you can determine through the plastic wrapping, make sure that the skin is intact and is yellowy-translucent. The skin should be a bit loose on the meat, and the meat below should be of uniform color. When you press on the breasts and the thighs, the meat should give slightly beneath your finger and feel more or less like, well, a breast. (C'mon, we all either have them or we've felt them, so you know what I'm talking about!)

When you're ready to prepare the chicken, remove the plastic wrapping and set the raw chicken on a clean plate in your sink. In a store-bought bird, the giblets (the heart, liver, and kidneys) will be in a small sealed bag within the cavity of the chicken. I haven't yet been able to stomach giblets, so I usually take a deep breath, pull out the bag and deposit it directly into the garbage. If you're feeling adventuresome, there are plenty of giblet recipes out there for you to explore--I'm saving that one for another day.

Wash the chicken by running it under hot water and running your hands firmly over the skin. Lift the chicken and run water in the cavity. Swish it around, rub the cavity with your hands, and run more water until the water coming out of the chicken runs clear. (Note: Chickens "should" be cleaned before packaging, but this is just an extra precautionary step. Don't use soap, though, as it will give your meat a soapy flavor.)

Still with the chicken in the sink, cut off any large lumps of fat you can see--especially around both openings of the chicken. Be careful not to tear or damage the skin. Pat the chicken dry with paper towels and set it on a new clean plate on your counter. Now the bird is ready to go.

Emma's Lemon Garlic Slow-Cooker Chicken

I drew this recipe together from several different recipes I had hanging around. The chicken is poached in a small amount of liquids in the slow-cooker and the resulting meat literally falls off the bone--you don't even need a knife! The flavors of garlic, lemon, thyme, and rosemary are infused throughout the meat. It's excellent eaten by itself, as a layer in sandwiches, and in any other chicken-leftover recipe you may have. The only disadvantage to poaching the chicken like this is that the skin is discarded after cooking; my next feat is to attempt roasting a chicken and getting some crispy skin!

3-4 pound chicken

for the seasoning:
3 garlic cloves--minced
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 tsp salt
2 sprigs of thyme--leaves stripped and minced

Mix all the seasoning ingredients together in a bowl. Using your fingers, gently separate the skin from the meat of the breast, thighs, and legs of the chicken. Rub half of the seasoning mixture between the skin and meat. I found that if you get a good dollop under the skin, you can lay the skin back down and use your fingers to massage the outside of the skin and work the seasoning across the surface of the meat. Rub the remaining mixture inside the cavity of the chicken.

Heat a large skillet (a wok works well) to medium-high heat and coat with non-stick cooking spray. Pan-sear the chicken on all sides for 6-8 minutes until the outside is browned. Transfer the chicken to your slow cooker--BREASTS SIDE UP.

for the baste:
3 Tbsp fresh lemon juice (about 1 lemon)--reserve the lemon rinds
2 Tbsp soy sauce
1/4 c. chicken broth
1 whole lemon--quartered
1 head of garlic--cloves separated, but left in their individual skins
2 chicken bouillon cubes
2 sprigs of thyme
2 sprigs of rosemary

Combine lemon juice, soy sauce, and chicken broth. Put the pan used to sear the chicken back on medium-high heat, pour in HALF of the lemon juice mixture and let sit until just boiling. Use a spatula to scrape up any bits of chicken stuck to the pan. Once the pan is deglazed, pour mixture over the chicken in the slow-cooker.

Put lemon rinds (reserved from squeezing the juice), 1 whole bouillon cube, and a few of the garlic cloves inside the cavity of the chicken. Arrange lemon quarters, the remaining garlic cloves, and the sprigs of thyme around the chicken toward the edges of the cooker. Crumbled the other bouillon cube over the chicken and rub it into the skin.

Place the lid on the cooker and cook on HIGH for 4 hours. (Note: This recipe is best when done on HIGH, but can also be done in 6-8 hours on LOW.)

Twenty to thirty minutes before the time is done, pour reserved lemon juice mixture over chicken and add the rosemary sprigs. (Rosemary tends to get bitter and antiseptic tasting if cooked the entire time in the slow-cooker.)

Remove chicken from the slow-cooker and allow it to rest on the carving board (or handy cookie sheet) for about 20 minutes. The meat actually continues cooking during this resting period and the juices will redistribute through the meat. When ready to serve, tear off the skin and discard. Use your fingers to pull off the legs--the bones should come apart with a gentle tug, but if they don't use a carving knife to wedge them apart. Keep using your fingers to work over the chicken, placing the meat on a serving platter and reserving the bones for another use (like home-made chicken broth!). Serve immediately!

If you don't have a slow cooker, you have a couple other options:

1. Poaching in a dutch oven: A dutch oven can very closely duplicate the slow cooker. Prepare the chicken exactly following the instructions above, but place the chicken and all ingredients in a dutch oven instead. Cover with the lid and place it on the middle rack in a COLD (not preheated) oven. Heat the oven to 300 degrees and cook for three hours or until a thermometer in the thigh meat registers 180 degrees. You can bast the chicken every 45 minutes or so.

You can also follow this recipe on Chocolate & Zucchini HERE.

2. On the stove top: If you don't have a slow cooker or a dutch oven, you can poach chicken breasts on the stove top in a skillet. I'm sure you could figure out a way to poach an entire chicken on the stove top--perhaps in a stockpot or dutch over over low heat?--but I've never done it.

Marinate the chicken breasts for 2-24 hours in the seasoning mixture from the recipe above. When ready to cook, place the breasts in a skillet or fry pan in a SINGLE layer. Cover chicken with the basting mixture and add enough additional chicken broth so that there is about 1/2 inch of liquid in the bottom--it should almost cover chicken, but the tops should still be above the liquid.

Turn on the heat to medium-high and bring liquid to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and cover skillet with a fitted lid. Let it cook undisturbed for about 10 minutes, then cut into the thickest part of one of the breasts to check for doneness. If it is still raw pink, recover the pan and cook for anther 5 minutes. Repeat until all the breasts are done. (Smaller breasts may be done sooner and should be removed.)

VARIATION: For my Cross-Atlantic Portuguese-Brazilian dinner, I used the marinade from the Chez Henri recipe for Roast Chicken with Lime and Achiote HERE in place of the seasoning mixture in my recipe above. I then followed my recipe exactly, replacing the lemons in my marinade with limes. Yum!