You can find me over here now. On Medium.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
It has been over a month since I've added anything to this space.
Pardon me for going MIA.
I didn't mean for that to happen. After returning to school from spring break a couples things occurred and a couple things didn't, and both made me realize this blog didn't suit me anymore.
I'm in the process of creating my new corner of the interweb. Until it is ready, you can I find me over here.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Supposedly, I'm on spring break.
And yet I am still wearing my long wool coat, still drinking at least three mugs of tea each day, and it is still snowing. I've seen daffodils and crocuses and snowdrops, but winter is lingering longer than usual.
So, something like muffins spiked with cinnamon and ginger seemed well order for this chilly afternoon. The kitchen was warmed by the pre-heating oven. A few songs from this album played. And outside, the sun shone but the wind howled.
CARROT AND QUINOA MUFFINS
Makes 1 dozen
1/2 cup whole wheat flour (I would have used spelt, but we were out.)
1/2 oat flour (Grind whole oats in a food processor.)
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
a dash of cloves
a dash of nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup cooked quinoa (1/2 rinsed quinoa cooked in 1 cup boiling water until curly-q develops.)
1 cup grated carrot
1/2 cup homemade applesauce, unsweetened
2 large eggs, beaten gently
1/4 cup milk (coconut, almond, oat, cow's...)
1/4 cup olive oil or warmed coconut oil
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour one set of regular size muffin tins.
Mix flours, spices, salt, baking soda, and baking powder. Then add the honey, quinoa, carrot, applesauce, eggs, milk, and oil. Mix until incorporated - but don't over mix.
Spoon batter into prepared muffin tins and transfer to oven. Bake for 20 - 30 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. When they're finished, run a knife around each muffin cup to loosen. Cool on a wire rack.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
I rise early.
Here, at the end of winter and on the tip of spring, it is dark twice in my day - morning and evening.
When I'm at school, I share one, small room with a roommate who sleeps late. So until the sun rises (an hour or two after I do) I patter around with only the street lamps outside for light. I enjoy the dark. It makes me move slowly, mindfully. When my toes first touch the floor I go to the window to look at the weather: Is there snow on the neighbor's roofs? Are there puddles in the parking lot below? Then I dress, make my tea in our hall's common room, and slip back into our room to eat my breakfast (usually, it's bircher muesli, made the night before). I sit at my desk, sideways in my chair so I can watch the cars outside - slow white lights shining through the streets. I know the regulars by now (mostly professors). There is a man and his little white dog I see taking a walk every day at 6:30am on the dot. Slowly the sun comes up. First it is only a rosy haze, then - hopefully - it becomes sharp and golden.
In the evenings, I retreat back into the cocoon of our room again. I make a nest of pillows. I pick a book and read until my eyes ache. Sometimes it's a book for pleasure. More often, it's a book for class.
I go to sleep early, like an old lady.
When I'm home, I slip downstairs before even my early bird younger brothers. I put the kettle on. I dare to run the blender to make my kale-banana-walnut butter smoothies. From my own bedroom, I watch the sun come up.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Friday, March 8, 2013
Thursday, March 7, 2013
A few days ago I found this book on the free shelf at a local cafe.
Although it says it's for kids 10+ (and the writing does have a bit of a slant to it), it's a neat little volume about sustainability, consumption culture, localavorism, sweat shops, etc. For me it's even written by a local author (it's a signed copy too). Mostly, I'm keeping it for the resources - websites and organizations. And just in case there's some 10+ year old I find I need to convince to jump off the consumerism bandwagon.