Wheel of Rolls

I have this strange need to use things up when I cook. Yesterday there were about 6 miniature onions in the basket so I chopped them up and added them to my sourdough before I shaped it. Then I made little rolls and baked them wedged snugly in my greased cast iron skillet. They came out like a gorgeous honeycomb-wheel. The cast iron acts like a baking stone. I baked them at 450 - until done.

Forgive me I must use the google translate button and see what this post looks like in French! I studied French in college and I wish I could hear it spoken more often. I swoon when I hear it! Occasionally I catch a radio station from Canada. I still have my beloved Random House book of French poetry, a book I bought 28 years ago -- to swoon, the spring I met my husband.

Pardonnez-moi, je dois utiliser le bouton Google Translate et voir ce que ce poste ressemble en français! J'ai étudié le français à l'université et je souhaite que je pourrais entendre parler plus souvent. Je me pâme quand je l'entends! De temps en temps je prends une station de radio du Canada. J'ai toujours aimé mon livre au hasard de la Maison de la poésie française, un livre que j'ai acheté il ya 28 ans - se pâmer, le printemps dernier, j'ai rencontré mon mari.

J'ai ce besoin étrange d'utiliser les choses quand je cuisine. Hier, il y avait environ 6 oignons miniatures dans le panier si j'ai coupé vers le haut et les ai ajoutés à mon levain avant que je ne l'ont façonnée. Puis j'ai fait petits pains cuits au four et les calés confortablement dans mes deux poêlons en fonte graissés. Ils sont sortis comme un magnifique nid d'abeille-roues. La fonte se comporte comme une pierre de cuisson. Je leur ai fait cuire au four à 450 - jusqu'à cuisson complète.

Angela Carter

A day without an argument is like an egg without salt.
—Angela Carter

source

morning fog

quiet neighborhood
mark blows his nose
on the porch

Surprise

dug out retired clothes--
not so bad anymore!
a few seams to mend.

Cake

Bill came home with two slices of cake
from teacher's appreciation day
carrot and coconut cake with ample frosting on both pieces
we feasted like orphan children!

Providence Elks visit Woonsocket

4 burley Harley guys with embroidered elk
emblems
stop at the castle
to picnic outside
sharing a little red table

skip the Harley. I want that vest --emblem--

smooching a poem

smooching a poem
startled by a noise from the kitchen
sourdough bread rising
pushed the lid off the bowl

Steve Sanfield's Haiku

America -
you and
that pizza


Because I have nothing else
I have begun to love
my sorrow.


by the refrigerator light
her bending body
through a new kimono


Days go by
when I do not
speak his name.


If only
I could put an end to
"if only".


limbs entangled
we dream
each others dream


Loons cry
The deeper silence
Behind


No fire.
The cat still settles
behind the stove.


No matter what the news
it remains another day
without you.


So silent
you can almost hear
the sun


The naked trees
make it colder
- this autumn moon


There were a few
but on this summer night
only cold memories


this love
a continual revelation
- crocuses in the snow


to shake all morning
because you touched me
- a simple bow


Without a moon
the sea
becomes deeper


Empty woodshed.
Bad back.
Trouble ahead.


Holed up for winter
wondering if anyone
will come.


Not quite cold enough
to build a fire.
Regretting it all morning.


The steaming kettle
my only companion
this winter night.


Cutting the deer
steam rising
in lantern light.


Fifteen kinds of mosquitoes
but they all
sound the same.


Another season
and no one to talk with
about the last.


The loudest sound:
the quail
at dawn.


So cold
even the words
freeze.


More and more
sure of
less and less.


True eloquence:
the rattlesnake's
warning.


Alone in the house
Springtime snow
You everywhere


The first narcissus
and his nose
all stuffed up.


Emptying the piss pot
he notices the moon
pours it on himself.


Sleep on the couch she says
cutting his fantasies
in two.


Remembers
beginning to masturbate.
Can't recall if he finished.


Cleaning house.
Poems scattered
everywhere.


Love poems
scribbled for one
now sent to another.


That cricket he rescued
from the dishwater
kept him awake all night.


Sends himself
a welcome home card.
It never arrives.


Rain on the roof.
A cricket in the house.
As it is.


Summer mountains:
here
all the time.


Walking in the rain
seeing everything to be done
when it stops


Hills of buttercups
but with one on the table
their meaning is clear


Birthday Poem

Inside - the laughter of friends.
Outside - the moon & I alone.



-----------------------------

from Sierra Song by Steve Sanfield, (Berkeley, Calif.: Tangram Press, 2003). 16 unnumbered pages

a cool breeze
sends my song
back to myself



-----------------------------

A Cycle of Hoops* for the First Snow
from Backlog, Tooth of Time Books, 1975

*I call them hoops rather than haiku, because haiku is a Japanese word for a poem usually written according to very specific guidelines. I wanted to step beyond those lines and also add another season—the season of the heart. And further, as Black Elk says, "that is because the Power of the world always worked in circles and everything tries to be round. In the old days when we were a strong and happy people, all our power came to us from the sacred hoop of the nation, and as long as the hoop was unbroken, the people flourished."


Walking this morning
to find the world
covered with white.

The brown grasses
seen afresh
after a night of snow.

Even that junkpile
I meant to put in order
is perfect.

Snapped in two:
that tree I never
should have planted.

On moonlit snow
even my shadow
is cold.

Tracks in the snow:
what happened
while we slept.

The power of snow
to make all things
new.

Doing Dishes

for Sasaki Roshi who taught me how

I'm told there are many, many people
who have an aversion to doing dishes.
I am not to be counted among them.
It is an activity I love dearly.
It is a joy, a delight, a true pleasure.
It goes beyond the sensuousness of
immersing my hands in warm, soapy water
particularly on cold winter mornings.

First of all, unlike most activities in my life,
it has a clear beginning and end.
Secondly, I'm certain I do it
as well as anybody else.
And finally, I think, it makes the world
just a tiny bit more beautiful.

-Steve Sanfield, Tangram

Johnny Cash

I love weather. I'm a connoisseur of weather. Wherever my travels take me, the first thing I do is turn on the weather channel and see what's going on, what's coming. I like to know about regional weather patterns, how storms are created in different altitudes, what kinds of clouds are forming or dissipating or blowing through, where the winds are coming from, where they've been. That's not a passion everybody shares, I know, but I don't believe there are any people on earth who, properly sheltered, don't feel the peace inside a summer rain and the cleansing it brings, the renewal of the earth in its aftermath.
-Johnny Cash

Today

smooching a poem
startled by a noise from the kitchen
sourdough bread rising
pushed the lid off the bowl

rain-soaked dresses
hanging on the line

simmering a crazy vat of soup

The Glimpse Of Something In The Oven

Childhood is like a kitchen. It is dangerous
To the mice, but the husband gets fed; he's
An old giant, grumbling and smelling children.
The kitchen is a place where you get smaller

And smaller, or you lose track. In general
You become preoccupied with this old lady
In the kitchen... She putters about, opens oven doors.
The thing is the old woman won't discuss anything.

The giant will. He's always been a fan of Aristotle,
Knew him at school. It is no surprise to him
That the Trojan War lasted ten years, or how it
Ended. he knows something you don't.

Your sister says, "Say what's that in the oven?"

-Robert Bly, Morning Poems

Food Blog Photog

Every once in a while I encounter an amazing food photographer working in the blogosphere. Have a look at this one! I don't think she realizes how talented and amazing her work is! Not many people have such an eye for color and composition and content!! Food magazine and cookbook publishers should find her fast!

Teach Me!

Teach Me!

when I came into this world
I needed compassionate sisters,
a mother
to teach me how to shave my legs,
insert a tampon,
pick a zit,
buy a poem,
start a car,
dress for dinner.

Instead I learned how to run away,
sleep on the floor with my boots on,
use other people's toothbrushes,
ride subways at midnight,
live on air -
I wanted to be Bob Dylan.



Apprends-moi!

quand je suis venu dans ce monde
J'avais besoin sœurs de compassion,
une mère
pour m'apprendre à me raser les jambes,
insérer un tampon,
choisir un zit,
acheter un poème,
démarrer une voiture,
s'habiller pour le dîner.

Au lieu de cela, j'ai appris à fuir,
dormir sur le sol avec mes bottes,
utiliser les brosses à dents des autres,
rouler les métros à minuit,
vivre de l'air -
Je voulais être Bob Dylan.

Virtue Calories

My gentle-reminder-pants are a little too descriptive for my shy nature. So I wear my big shirt that hangs down to my knees, like the women of India. It's a private matter between me and my tuchas. I'd rather have the extra pounds from SOUL FOOD while doing my art than be a skeletal "social X-RAY" and not be doing my art.

Today while picking up empty potato chip bags, donut-boxes, soda and beer cans, Reese's and Hershey's wrappers, littering my street, I thought of all of the calories I avoided while accumulating virtue calories!


Calories Virtue
Ma douce-rappel-pantalon est un peu trop descriptif pour ma nature timide. Donc, je porte ma grande chemise qui pend sur mes genoux, comme les femmes de l'Inde. C'est une affaire privée entre moi et mes tuchas. Je préfère avoir des kilos en trop de soul food tout en faisant mon art que d'être un squelette "social X-Ray" et ne pas être à faire mon art.

Aujourd'hui, tout en ramassant des pommes de terre vides sacs de croustilles, beignet-boxes, de la soude et de la bière en canettes, Reese et des emballages de Hershey, jonchent ma rue, j'ai pensé à toutes les calories J'évitais tout en accumulant des calories de la vertu!

S'il vous plaît, Pas de gongs!

Nous sommes dans le camp d'été sans l'été ou le camp -
ou peut-être c'est une retraite d'écriture sans reculer!
ou une retraite spirituelle sans la robe et de l'encens et des gongs.

s'il vous plaît, pas de gongs!

Je me suis réveillé avec les quatre heures d'alarme de Bill avec le plus de maux de tête sévères d'allergie -
est resté au lit en espérant qu'il s'en aille.

Quand j'ai ouvert le rideau à 5h du matin, je bâillonné de la lumière émergente.
sans blague

Je descendis.

Le projet de loi était à son bureau
Je me suis excusé et éteint toutes les lumières
mais je me suis tourné sur la cafetière pré chargé
a pris tous les sinus et de la médecine des maux de tête
avec une banane

assis sur un tabouret de cuisine dans le noir

monta à lire l'almanach de Writer.

tête toujours blessé,
mettre sur mon sweat-shirt.
ressenti restrictive
arracha,

bâillonnée
banane vomi
pain grillé puis fait dans l'obscurité
commencer à se sentir mieux.
Ouf.

vu ma vie défiler devant mes yeux.
santé est la richesse.

Glad je ne suis pas Anne Boleyn, seconde épouse du roi Henri VIII d'Angleterre même si une décapitation est une option pour guérir un mal de tête.

dans mon studio était une raquette
des oiseaux

fenêtre ouverte
Je les entends tous.

Please, No Gongs!

We are in summer camp without the summer or the camp--
or perhaps its a writing retreat without retreating!
or a spiritual retreat without the robes and incense and gongs.

please, no gongs!

Woke with Bill's alarm 4AM with the most severe allergy headache--
stayed in bed hoping it would go away.

When I opened the curtain at 5AM, I gagged from the emerging light.
no joke

I went downstairs.

Bill was at his desk
I apologized and turned off all of the lights
but I turned on the pre loaded coffeepot
took all the sinus and headache medicine
with a banana

sat on kitchen stool in the dark

went up to read Writer's Almanac.

head still hurt,
put on my sweatshirt.
felt restrictive
tore it off,

gagged
vomited banana
then made toast in the dark
starting to feel better.
whew.

saw my life flash before my eyes.
health is wealth.

Glad I am not Anne Boleyn -second wife of England's King Henry VIII although a beheading is one option to cure a headache.

in my studio was a racket
of birds

window open
I hear them all.

Pain de Viande à la Dinde

The first time I went to Canada it was a day trip 20 years ago. We just drove over the border from Newport Vermont (didn't need a passport then) and stopped at a diner. We went inside and there were two guys playing checkers. There was a blackboard with the words Pain de Viande scrawled on it. I knew 'pain' was bread and 'viande' was meat. I thought for a moment, then cried out "MEATLOAF!" I was so excited. I don't think we stayed long. We took our two big dogs for a walk. We went to a supermarket and admired the local produce and the signs in French. I bought peanut butter for its French labeling and headed home.

3 oignons hachés
2 haché poivrons rouges ou rouge cubanelle poivrons (la couleur est importante)
2-3 branches de céleri hachées
1-5 gousses d'ail
Adobo assaisonnement
Worcestershire sauce
poivre noir moulu
viande de dinde hachée
flocons d'avoine
maïs surgelé
eau ou de bouillon pour humidifier

faire revenir les légumes et les combiner avec de l'avoine et de la viande, faire cuire dans un monticule sur une poêle en fonte ou un moule à pain pendant 50-60 minutes (350 F temps)

3 onions chopped
2 chopped red bell peppers or red cubanelle peppers (color is important)
2-3 stalks of celery chopped
1-5 cloves of garlic
Adobo seasoning
sauce Worcestershire
freshly ground black pepper
ground turkey meat
rolled oats
frozen corn
water or stock to moisten
poivre noir moulu

saute veggies and combine with oats and meat, bake in a mound on a cast iron skillet or loaf pan at 350 for 50-60 minutes

Fantasy Passport

I am hoping to get a passport someday so I can go with Francine and speak French in Canada. I have never had a passport. I wish I could just 'make one' like Saul Steinberg did. Hmm maybe I should! What would be on it?
A recipe for my sourdough bread,
a photo of Bill
a photo of my dog Lily,
and Sammy-cat,
and me.
and a picture of my house.
And a photo of Woonsocket
and a photo of a cup of coffee. (just in case I get too shy to speak)
And a drawing!

Swiss Alps

Before our evergreen bushes grew last summer to cover two thirds of our picture window we used to have a view of the drooping baseball nets from our kitchen table. I call them the Swiss Alps since the droops escalate to pointy peaks. My craving yesterday for a lunch of raw oats and raisins and sunflower seeds was apparently very Swiss. They eat this and call it muesli.

I love to invent something and after I've eaten it, I'll "Google it" to see if there's such a recipe eaten by another human on this planet. I am such a monkey. Hello fellow monkeys it's me. Is there anyone out there having this for lunch too?

When I was a child I figured with so many people on this planet there must be another Emily dressed exactly like me doing the same things at this very moment, even thinking the same thoughts, wearing these same purple socks.

By the way I had no idea the Swiss put coffee and milk in the muesli. That certainly saves an extra dish to wash, though I love to wash dishes. But I'll save that chat for another day.
Read

Good Housekeeping

Good Housekeeping magazine went on sale for the first time on this day in 1885, offering housekeeping tips, parenting advice, product reviews, and fiction.

In 1900, the magazine developed the Good Housekeeping Experiment Station to test and evaluate consumer goods and foods for the benefit of the magazine's readers. Products that passed the magazine's standards were given the "Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval," and anyone who wasn't satisfied by one of the approved and advertised products could obtain a full refund. In a time before any regulatory or consumer protection agencies, the Experiment Station performed an important public service, and its tests raised concerns about smoking, overeating, and preservatives before anyone else.

Was there a Sir to Sin with?

Was there a sir to sin with?
The evening was a blur to begin with.
-David Lehman

Food Journal

Food journals are a great way to shine a light on your eating habits even if you don't reread what you wrote. Keep a small memo pad and a pen, on your kitchen counter or next to the fridge. Write the time and date and the food that you eat. Include beverages. Don't judge! Call it a "poem for science" if it helps distance yourself. You will discover things over time.

Dry Snack

1 cup old fashioned rolled oats
1/2 cup raw sunflower seeds
1/2 cup raisins
dash of kosher salt

Letters of Complaint

Memory: My mother used to write letters of complaint and hate to everyone; us kids, our teachers, you name it. Once she wrote a letter to General Mills or somebody complaining about finding dead bugs in her dried cereal. This was back in the 60's when the rat hairs in candy bars scare was happening. She received a huge care package with a note of apology from the company. She was as ecstatic as a 4-year-old at Christmas, bragging, telling everyone of her delight. She quickly began another letter. Dear. . . I just received a package of. . .

I was reading about Joe Orton and found this and it all came back to me.

EDNA'S LETTER TO SMEDLEYS


Flat 4,
25, Noel Road,
London, N.1

30th April 1965.

Dear Sir,

I recently purchased a tin of Morton's blackcurrant pie filling. It was delicious. Choc-full of rich fruit. Then, wishing to try another variety, I came upon Smedley's raspberry pie filling. And I tried that. And really! How can you call such stuff pie filling? There wasn't a raspberry in it. I was very disappointed after trying Morton's blackcurrant.

Please try to do better in future. And what on earth is `EDIBLE STARCH' and 'LOCUST BEAN GUM'? If that is what you put into your pie fillings I'm not surprised at the result.

I shan't try any more of your pie fillings until the fruit content is considerably higher. My stomach really turned at what I saw when I opened the tin.

Yours sincerely,

Edna Weithorpe (Mrs)


source