Richard Jones Poem

Rest.

by Richard Jones

It's so late I could cut my lights
and drive the next fifty miles
of empty interstate
by starlight,
flying along in a dream,
countryside alive with shapes and shadows,
but exit ramps lined
with eighteen wheelers
and truckers sleeping in their cabs
make me consider pulling into a rest stop
and closing my eyes. I've done it before,
parking next to a family sleeping in a Chevy,
mom and dad up front, three kids in the back,
the windows slightly misted by the sleepers' breath.
But instead of resting, I'd smoke a cigarette,
play the radio low, and keep watch over
the wayfarers in the car next to me,
a strange paternal concern
and compassion for their well being
rising up inside me.
This was before
I had children of my own,
and had felt the sharp edge of love
and anxiety whenever I tiptoed
into darkened rooms of sleep
to study the small, peaceful faces
of my beloved darlings. Now,
the fatherly feelings are so strong
the snoring truckers are lucky
I'm not standing on the running board,
tapping on the window,
asking, Is everything okay?
But it is. Everything's fine.
The trucks are all together, sleeping
on the gravel shoulders of exit ramps,
and the crowded rest stop I'm driving by
is a perfect oasis in the moonlight.
The way I see it, I've got a second wind
and on the radio an all-night country station.
Nothing for me to do on this road
but drive and give thanks:
I'll be home by dawn.

- Richard Jones, from The Correct Spelling and Exact Meaning. © Copper Canyon Press, 2010.

Daniyal Mueenuddin

Pea soup. Dad got a crate at the dollar store. Just the cans are dented.

-Daniyal Mueenuddin

Article

Anne Lamott

You are going to have to give and give and give, or there's no reason for you to be writing. You have to give from the deepest part of yourself, and you are going to have to go on giving, and the giving is going to have to be its own reward. There is no cosmic importance to your getting something published, but there is in learning to be a giver.
- Anne Lamott

Operavore!

WQXR

Synesthesia

Article

Sunday Soup Swap

idea:

Sunday Soup Swap

Soup n' Bread Swap

Sunday Swap n' Glop

Live music, Live soup!

Jack Munroe

“Last night when I opened my fridge to find some leftover tomato pasta, an onion, and a knob of stem ginger, I gave the pasta to my boy and went to bed hungry with a pot of homemade ginger tea to ease the stomach pains.”

Her son would ask: Why aren’t you eating, Mummy?

“I’m not hungry,” she would reply, praying that he would leave the crust of his toast.

For eight months, she did not tell anyone. There was shame and a residual hope that one of the 300 job applications typed out on her mobile phone would come through. Above all, there was the fear that child services would take away her boy. “He was the reason I was still getting up in the morning,” she said. “A cuddle on the sofa is free, reading a story is free. I didn’t want to lose him.”

WHEN she could no longer afford a haircut, she told her friends that she was growing it out. She kept her apartment tidy, her son’s clothes clean. “You become really good at hiding things,” she said.

It was not until July 30, 2012, when she wrote “Hunger Hurts,” that she officially came out as poor. Her parents dropped off bags of food and clothes, and berated her for not telling them sooner. But with two young adopted children to feed, they could only help so much. That August, Ms. Monroe had a sale, parting with almost everything she had left, raising almost $3,300 to pay off her debts and put down a deposit for a cheaper house share.

“Where is my dinosaur toy?” her son asked when he came back later from a day with his father, who helps look after him.

“Mummy had a tidy-up,” she told him.

Article

Seated Cow Tale

I turned on my mixer and Sammy unaccustomed to the noise took a detour around the teapot and two bovine creamers knocking them to the floor. Luckily only the seated cow's tail-as-handle broke off. I will glue it back on. The standing cow is fine albeit a little stunned.

I Love Woonsocket

Wherever I go around town, people stop me and say, You're the dog lady, I see you everywhere! A few years ago I had to get a background check and fingerprinted to work as a guest the schools. When I went to the police station the detective took my prints and the machine beeped. He said Do you know what that means? It means my prints were a match to a murderers. He was smiling, teasing me because he recognized me. It's a very cute town. A doll-house city with real world problems. I love Woonsocket.

Corner Market

I love to go into the new Dominican bodega because the family is lovely and it is clean and packed to the gills with great stuff. Yesterday I spotted a row of the cute little stovetop espresso pots, an assortment of dried chilies, and goat milk caramel lollipops. The family doesn't speak English and I don't speak Spanish but I know a little French. But we all smile and manage fine. The market has flashing lit up neon red and yellow OPEN sign and a blue and green ATM sign in their window. They recently hung colorful banners on the outside of the building "We take Master Card and Visa", "We Accept EBT". Last night while having soup at the table I could see the colorful store lights flashing through our brown bare shrubs. I said "Look Bill, it's our little piece of Times Square."

Towels

by Samuel Hazo

What purpose have they but to rub
skin dry by being drawn behind
the back two-handed down
the showered spine or fluffed
between the thighs and elsewhere?
Yardgoods lack what towels
proffer in sheer, plump tuft.
Wadded after use and flung
in hampers to be washed, they clump
like the tired laundry of men
who sweat for a living.
Spun dry
or spreadeagled to the sun,
they teach us what renewal means.
Touch them when they're stacked or racked,
and what you're touching is abundance
in waiting.
Imprinted with the names
of Hilton or the Ritz, they daub
with equal deft the brows
of bandits or the breasts of queens.
What else did Pilate reach for
when he washed his hands of Christ
before the multitudes?
Even
when retired to the afterlife of rags,
they still can buff the grills
of Chryslers, Fallingwater's windows
or important shoes.
However
small, it seems they have
their part to play.
But then,
en route from use to uselessness,
it's no small asset ever
to be always good at something.

- by Samuel Hazo from The Song of the Horse. © Autumn House Press, 2008

Ruth Reichl

My idea of good living is not about eating high on the hog. Rather, to me good living means understanding how food connects us to the earth.

- Ruth Reichl

Goat Milk Lollipop

I just had my first goat milk caramel lollipop. Spectacular! And only 25 cents, at the new Dominican Market, across the street. The sweet is called cajeta, pronounced "kahHAYtah".

The Power of Soup

The Power of Soup by Julie Kendrick - Minneapolis, Minnesota
As heard on The Bob Edwards Show, November 22, 2013

Julie Kendrick believes in making soup. But not just because it's nourishing to body and soul during Minnesota winters. She also believes that making—and sharing—soup with friends builds connections within her community.

I believe in the masterpieces that everyday people can create, when they’re given a chance. I believe in sharing nourishment with my friends. I believe in warm, tasty liquids on a freezing cold day. I believe in the power of soup.

I started hosting soup swaps four years ago, after reading about Knox Gardner, a Seattle resident who loved to cook big pots of soup but who quickly tired of his own cooking. He had an idea to bring friends together for an evening to talk about, and swap, containers of their favorite soups. His hope was not only to fill his freezer with tasty meals, but, as he said, “foster a community of friends and families to create traditions around food and sharing.”

I held my first soup swap shortly after I read that article, and I’ve never looked back. I host two swaps a year, one in spring and one in fall, although I had a friend tell me recently that she thought I held them every month. That would just be crazy, but it shows what an impact the swaps have had. The concept is simple: arrive with six containers of frozen soup, tell the group about your creation, pick a number, and then take turns selecting new soups to take home and enjoy.

In Minnesota, where I live, the winters are cold and long, and the prospect of brand-new soup, maybe a kind I’ve never tried before, or one from a friend who’s a great cook, can liven up many dreary weeknight suppers and Saturday afternoon lunches. But it’s more than that, of course—it’s the friendships and bonds that are formed when we share the stories of our precious creations with each other. Like the woman who told us that she was the only grandkid who ever cooked with Grandma, and how now all her siblings want to come over to her house for bowls of Grandma’s Famous Vegetable Soup. Or the newlywed who swapped Artichoke Bisque, the same kind of soup that she and her boyfriend were eating when he proposed. Or the friend who told of her transformative vacation at a Colorado dude ranch, and how she’d convinced the chef to share the recipe for Roasted Poblano and Squash Soup to help her remember that time.

There are chances to give back, too. One year, I had a friend who had just started chemotherapy treatment, so I asked guests to bring along an extra container. Their generosity allowed me to deliver twenty quarts of soup to my ailing friend and her family.

Soup is slow. You just cannot rush soup. Soup is nourishing. Even when some of the ingredients are slightly decadent, it’s nourishing for all the parts of you, not just the waistline. And, perhaps most importantly for the place where I live, soup is warm. When I open my freezer and heat up a friend’s recipe, I think of her and I connect with her. All over one bowl of soup.

Julie Kendrick is a writer who lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, which has the coldest average temperature of any major metropolitan area in the U.S. (about eleven below zero in January). She survives the winter by writing (sometimes with gloves on), dreaming of spring, and, of course, preparing many batches of soup.

Full Moon Dream that woke me up at 3:15

I was driving a little Volkswagen beetle on a sandy path in a beach community, I was being followed by an angry and curious driver. I came to a small wooden staircase blocking the path. I got out and carried the car over the stairs and jumped back in and kept driving. I did this a few times, each time I got out and carried my VW bug over a small set of wooden stairs and jumped back in and kept driving. I arrived at a communal living spot. The veranda had tall ceilings with archways, and rugs on a tiled floor. One huge round rug had fifty-two pairs of shoes! I noticed pointy-toed black leather fashion boots and heels amongst them. I knew who they belonged to. I was still racing to get away. I was on the sandy path at an intersection in Tiverton complaining about illustration to my friend. He got bored and drove off in a vintage gold-colored El Dorado with a rumbling muffler. Apparently a strip mall was being planned at this intersection and everyone was upset about it. I tried on a men's gold corduroy jacket at a thrift store. It had a hole near the cuff. I noticed a checkbook and money in the breast pocket. I hurried to buy it but couldn't find my wallet. I woke up searching for my little "Change comes from within" purse.

Woonsocket on It

Cheers to Wednesday, mid-week mid-month January thaw and full moon!

Woonsocket is such a cool name I have for decades imagined a local company called "Woonsocket on it" that would sell items with the name.

Also, in my crazy fantasy I would love to see a custom made pizzelle maker with our City seal imprinted as the cookie pattern. It could be used for local fundraising events and the cookies sold in town.

Young Bread

After months of making no knead 48 hour slow cold rise sourdough, it is a real treat to knead and bake a bread in one day. It is delicious and it's a whole different taste!

Laurie Colwin

Cookbooks hit you where you live. You want comfort; you want security; you want food; you want to not be hungry; and not only do you want those basic things fixed, you want it done in a really nice, gentle way that makes you feel loved.
- Laurie Colwin

City of Sleeping Windows

I love drinking black coffee while standing in the dark backyard at 4 AM with my dog Lily, hoping there aren't any skunks! I stood out there this morning admiring the city of sleeping windows.

The Soup Mobile Mission

If you can't feed a hundred people, then feed just one!

- Mother Teresa

The SoupMobile was founded in 2003 by David Timothy, a.k.a. The SoupMan, on a wing and a lot of prayers. The SoupMobile is different from traditional soup kitchens in that we are ‘mobile’ and take the food to areas where the homeless congregate. We are literally on the front lines of the war against hunger in Dallas, Texas.

More important than the actual food we serve is the reason we do it. 2,000 years ago Jesus said ‘Feed MY Sheep.’ We believe he meant more than just food. He also meant love, caring, and compassion. Yes, the food feeds their bodies, but the love of Jesus feeds their souls.

The SoupMobile serves an incredible 200,000 meals per year. Each of our hot, nutritious, and tasty meals is served with one special magic ingredient---LOVE!!!

http://www.soupmobile.org/our-missions#mission1

Dream

the alarm goes off at 4AM for my husband to prepare
for teaching school
our schedule is what I call monk's hours
it's like having permanent jet lag
today I woke at 3:45 dreaming of two tarantulas
in a glass tank on top of a white fridge
the glass broke
and they got out
loose tarantulas!!
and
black coffee at 4:15

Miracle Soup

Today was my first day of my cooking class called Miracle Soup. I worked with a woman who knows the kitchen well and she showed me where to find everything. We had fun. She was making five trays of pasta with a hamburger tomato sauce for a meat raffle dinner tonight. The sweet maintenance man replaced the burned out light bulbs over the stove so we could see. Then he helped lift the huge colander of cooked pasta. I made a garlic onion soup with a tomato beef broth. It was delicious and I shared it with everyone in the kitchen.

Barbara Crooker

My grandparents coming from Italy in steerage
measured their gold in olive oil, not bank notes
and deeds.
-Barbara Crooker from her poem Monopoly 1955

Blackeyed Peas

Today I am simmering blackeyed peas to honor New Years Day. I love them because they taste like dirt.

Hoppin' John is a peas and rice dish served in the Southern United States. It is made with black-eyed peas (or field peas) and rice, chopped onion, sliced bacon, and seasoned with a bit of salt. Some people substitute ham hock, fatback, or country sausage for the conventional bacon; a few use green peppers or vinegar and spices. Smaller than black-eyed peas, field peas are used in the Low Country of South Carolina and Georgia; black-eyed peas are the norm elsewhere.

In the southern United States, eating Hoppin' John on New Year's Day is thought to bring a prosperous year filled with luck. The peas are symbolic of pennies or coins, and a coin is sometimes added to the pot or left under the dinner bowls. Collard greens, mustard greens, turnip greens, chard, kale, cabbage etc. along with this dish are supposed to also add to the wealth since they are the color of money. Another traditional food, cornbread, can also be served to represent wealth, being the color of gold. On the day after New Year's Day, leftover "Hoppin' John" is called "Skippin' Jenny," and further demonstrates one's frugality, bringing a hope for an even better chance of prosperity in the New Year.

-Wikipedia

Lazy Tomato Sauce

Lately I have been simmering my simple home made tomato sauce mostly because I am feeling lazy and not in the super sensory food mood. Lazy tomato sauce is this: 4 cans of crushed tomatoes, six of Jamie's hot Italian sausages, four ribs of celery chopped, three onions chopped. Simmer in slow cooker for a few hours while your house fills with the gorgeous aroma. I like to break the sausages into meatball-sized pieces after they have cooked. When you are ready for supper, boil your favorite macaroni. Ladle the red sauce over the hot noodles. Enjoy sprinkled with grated parmesan or romano cheese.