Great-Granny's Pound Cake

This has been a week full of celebration.  My birthday and my son's birthday fall just two days apart during this beautiful season of azaleas and dogwoods.  We both always want the same cake, so we often celebrate with it on the day between our birthdays.



The cake we both love so much is from a recipe my great-grandmother (for whom I was named) brought over from England when she immigrated.  Her daughter made it often, her granddaughter made it often, I make it often, and now my son can help continue the tradition.

*  *  *

 Great-Granny's Pound Cake

3 cups sugar
1 cup butter (2 sticks)
6 eggs
3 cups flour
1 cup heavy cream
1 lemon, zested and juiced

1. Bring the butter and eggs to room temperature.

2. Prepare a tube pan or a bundt pan by greasing it with butter.  Sprinkle flour in the pan and shake to distribute.  Dump out any remaining flour.

3. Cream the butter and sugar until light and smooth.  A good stand mixer makes this process much easier, but you can do it with a hand egg beater if you are patient and strong.

4.  Add eggs, one at a time, and beat them in well.

5.  Mix in the lemon zest and lemon juice.

6.  Alternately add a little flour and a little cream and mix until all is incorporated.  Don't overbeat.

7.  Pour into the prepared cake mold, using a rubber spatula to get every last bit.

8.  Put the pan into a cold oven and set the temperature to 325 degrees Fahrenheit.  Cook for 90 minutes or until it is golden brown and smells heavenly.

9.  Let it cool a bit, if you can wait--especially if you're putting wax candles in, which will melt into the cake otherwise!

*  *  *

One of the tricks that makes this cake turn out so well is to use cream, butter, and eggs from grassfed animals.  I know those are the only things my great-grandmother had access to, but it means making a decision these days.  Going grass-fed means this gastronomical splurge is a bit better for you since these ingredients will be higher in vitamin E, omega 3 fatty acids, and conjugated linoleic acid than conventional eggs and dairy would be.  (You're also reducing the chance of food poisioning if you lick the delicious batter from the bowl!)

"Scrambling" for a Spring Menu Plan

Last week, I made an official meal plan for the first time--and loved the relaxed feeling it gave me at 5:30 or 6pm when I carried my laptop into the kitchen and turned on a podcast (often The Splendid Table) while I cut veggies for a meal already thought out. Although I've always adored reading cookbooks, I've rarely actually followed a recipe without major changes. I did this week--and we had a couple of meals that were quite different from the meals I normally create.

We did change a few things around. I forgot to defrost the chicken, so we had stuffed potatoes with goat cheese and rapini that night (instead of chicken, baked potatoes, and sauteed rapini). I changed the meal plan to reflect how we actually ate.

One of the best things about the week of meals had nothing to do with the planning itself. This was the first week when our local farmers market sold asparagus! We ate it for two meals--one roasted, and one steamed. Perhaps because we've spent a long winter deprived of these offerings, or perhaps because of my spring birthday, asparagus and strawberries are my absolute favorite foods ever. Well--and okra. And Brussels sprouts. Oh--and oysters, or shrimp.... And I couldn't live without rice.... (Yep, I'm a coastal South Carolina girl at heart, no matter where I live now.)

For those of you who read my first meal-planning post last week, you may remember that I was inspired to try meal planning by conversations with--and then a book talk by--Aviva Goldfarb, creator of The Six O'Clock Scramble and the author of the fabulous new eco-cookbook SOS! The Six O'Clock Scramble to the Rescue: Earth-Friendly, Kid-Pleasing Dinners for Busy Families.

This week will be a plan almost entirely inspired by recipes from Goldfarb's book.  All of these main dish recipes--and even many of the side dishes that accompany the mains--are hers (more or less), with the exception of Saturday evening.

*  *  *

Monday:
A Night at the Opera
Beef Empanadas (made with homemade dough)
Kale
Carried "to-go style" in our tiffin

Tuesday:
Indian-spiced Salmon over Brown Basmati Rice
Spinach with Mushrooms
Mango Lassi (dessert)

Wednesday:
Orzo Salad with Peas and Feta Cheese (vegetarian)

Thursday:
Cream of Asparagus Soup (vegetarian)
Assorted Salad Greens with Raisins, Cashews, and Sunflower seeds
Homemade Sourdough Bread

Friday:
Spice-tossed Shrimp with Parmesan Grits
Lemon-Pepper Broccoli
Rhubarb Crisp (dessert)

Saturday:
A Day at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival
Homemade Mushroom Pizza topped with Homegrown Arugula (vegetarian)
(dough recipe from The Greens Cookbook)

Sunday:
Lemon Parmesan Fusilli with Asparagus and Spinach (vegetarian)
Strawberries topped with Greek Honey Yogurt

* * *

I found a few online link lists of meal plans and have really enjoyed clicking to see how everybody makes their menus. Two of my favorites are Menu Plan Monday and Mindful Menus.

Next week: menus from great food memoirs!

Maple Sugaring

Early spring is the time when the sap starts running in the trees. While we were at farm camp a few weeks ago, the children had the opportunity to collect maple sap to make syrup and other maple products.



In order to express their appreciation of the gifts of the trees, the children hiked into the woods and formed a circle under the trees.  They joined with others to read poems and say blessings...



...and sing songs together.



The sap was poured into vats and fires were stoked underneath.



With the hours boiling over the fire, water in the sap slowly evaporated and the liquid got thicker, more viscous, and sweet as the sugar concentrated.



Ten gallons of sap makes only about one quart of syrup.

On the last day at camp, we had a feast of whole-wheat pancakes, which we soaked with the glorious maple syrup we had helped make. Its wonderful sweetness was magnified for us by our participation in the process.

Food, and Cognitive Dissonance

My 10yo son and I are reading next to each other on the couch.

My book: Cathy Erway's The Art of Eating In: How I Learned to Stop Spending and Love the Stove. This book is a lighthearted romp through adventurous but non-restaurant-based eating in New York City. The author incorporates everything from news of her love life, details of parties, friendly information about food politics, and great recipes. It is all about the pleasures of food.

My son's book, being read for the local library's "Banned Books Club": Upton Sinclair's 1906 The Jungle. This book was perhaps the first major food expose, highlighting in VERY graphic ways the horrors of the meat-packing industry. If you think information about factory farms is grotesque, this book will blow you away. (Think workers falling in the rendering vat and being ground up with animal parts.) Although the author's intention was to analyze the terrible working conditions of working class and immigrant laborers, most readers came away shocked by food safety issues and ready to demand changes. As Sinclair said, "I aimed at the public's heart, and by accident I hit it in the stomach."

Menu Planning

Last night, we went to a fabulous talk at my favorite bookstore (ie, the first bookstore I knew was carrying my book). Aviva Goldfarb, creator of The Six-O'Clock Scramble meal planning service, talked about her brand new book, SOS! The Six O'Clock Scramble to the Rescue: Earth-Friendly, Kid-Pleasing Dinners for Busy Families. Aviva worked with David many years ago, and when we found out that she too was obsessed with food and the environment, he was thrilled to reconnect a bit with her.

For those of you who have read my blog for a while, you know I am a dyed-in-the-wool hippie who tries to live in an ecologically sound fashion--and that I often try to challenge myself to create new behaviors that reflect my commitments. Goldfarb's book introduces her readers to the importance of many of the actions my family has taken over the years, from carrying our own bags and shopping at farmers market to eating meat responsibly and beginning to compost. Her book is a great intro to eco-eating for those who are interested in the issue but haven't gotten deeply involved yet.

Although those of us who have been labeled "deep green" or "already off the deep end" may not learn much new green info, the thing I really like about Goldfarb's book is her emphasis on having a plan for the week's meals.

I love to cook and love to invent recipes on the fly. Although I've made detailed plans for Passover or for family visits where things get a bit more challenging, I rarely do more than sketch out a few possibilities for the coming week. Over the last year of so, I have occasionally signed on to Meal Outlaw to try to flesh out a bit of a plan and to spy on other people's methods--but often I wind up logging meals in retrospect.  In my usual real life, I just buy whatever looks great at the market and go from there.

This fly-by-night method works well for my personality about 75% of the time. It is an utter failure at other times. We wind up going out to eat or I talk my 10yo son into cooking or my husband into putting something together at some late hour.  I think I get enough pleasure from the relaxed intuitive cooking during the height of gardening and CSA season that I'm not 100% sure I am ready to totally abandon my method. I suspect that even if I do get hooked on planning, I won't really be sticking to other people's recipes much of the time.

But when I started hearing about Goldfarb's planning method, I was inspired to try something new. I am eager to try out her recipes now that I own her cookbook.  But before I bought it, I spent the past week with a bunch of cookbooks from the library, a pad of paper for making a map of the week, and the commitment to try things this different way.

In poking around online for alternative sources for meal planning, I also found two super-cool blog collectives, Menu Plan Monday and Mindful Menus. Reading the linked posts gave me lots of ideas and further inspiration.

* * *

So here is this experimental week:

Sunday:
Chicken Penne with Pesto and Artichoke Cream
     from Robin Rescues Dinner: 52 Weeks of Quick-Fix Meals, 350 Recipes, and a Realistic Plan to Get Weeknight Dinners on the Table
Roasted Asparagus

Monday:
Caribbean Vegetable Stew (vegan)
     from Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home: Fast and Easy Recipes for Any Day
Brown Rice
Papaya Salad with Ginger-Lime Dressing

Tuesday:
Egyptian Pasta en Crema
     from Hands-Off Cooking: Low-Supervision, High-Flavor Meals for Busy People
Assorted Salad Greens with Papaya Seed Dressing

Wednesday:
North African Cauliflower Soup (vegan)
     from Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home: Fast and Easy Recipes for Any Day
Assorted Salad Greens with Papaya Seed Dressing
Warmed Bread (from the farmer's market)

Thursday:
Butternut Squash Enchiladas with Spinach (vegetarian)
     from Hands-Off Cooking: Low-Supervision, High-Flavor Meals for Busy People
Crunchy Salad

Friday:
Baked Potatoes topped with Goat Cheese, Sauteed Rapini, Leeks, and Mushroom (vegetarian)
     to be improvised

Saturday:
***FAMILY BIRTHDAY DINNER***
Macaroni and Yeast with Broccoli (a special request and an old favorite) (vegan recipe)
     from Vegan Vittles: Recipes Inspired by the Critters of Farm Sanctuary
Assorted Salad Greens
Great-Granny's Lemon Pound Cake
     recipe forthcoming

Sunday:
Shrimp Pomodoro over Angel Hair
     from Robin Rescues Dinner: 52 Weeks of Quick-Fix Meals, 350 Recipes, and a Realistic Plan to Get Weeknight Dinners on the Table
Steamed Asparagus

*  *  *

I am hungry already...

Do you meal plan? I'd love to hear more about your experiences!

Cooking Together

I've been enjoying Too Many Cooks: Kitchen Adventures with 1 Mom, 4 Kids, and 102 Recipes by Emily Franklin in short spurts over the last few afternoons.  It is a great book for picking up in those odd quiet moments that seem to happen here every once in a while--times when I know I can't get deeply into a project or serious book but do want to celebrate the few seconds I have.

Franklin's book is filled with stories of cooking and eating with her children.  She leaves this reader laughing, inspired, and occasionally feeling really lucky to have only one child!  Her stories are a great window into the life of her family--full of that patient-but-very-amused parenting style which feels just right in a book.  It is often too easy for cooks or parents writing memoirs to slip into what seems like a holier-than-thou attitude--and it is equally easy to be too self-critical.  Franklin takes a comfortable playful middle road, where she laughs gently at herself and her family in a way that shows how much she loves the whole shebang.  As she writes in one recipe, after mixing the ingredients into a batter, "let stand for 8-10 minutes or however long it takes you to change diaper/ send e-mail/ sing song/ divert toddler/ explain who Nixon was, or any other kid-related issue."

I immediately identified with the author when she recounts being with her mother in a kitchen shop--a scene which shapes the entire book: "Contained within the shelves there, packed away amidst the plain white plates and jelly jar glasses, were meals as yet uncooked, conversations unspoken, a whole future of smells and tastes and togetherness."  From the beginning, she knew that kitchens and cooking were about connections, about possibilities, and about love.

"There's an old saying..."

Last night we had a fabulous dinner with new friends in our town--and played a great game totally new to us: Wise and Otherwise. It brought out both our funny sides, out poetic sides, and our most generous selves.

One player draws a card and reads the beginning of a saying from another culture. Other players have to guess or make up an ending and write it down. Players then vote for what they think it the right answer--or the funniest.

An example:

There is an old Russion saying, "No grease...":

1. No grease makes the iron pot brittle.
2. No grease could make Lenin's vodka smooth
3. No grease, no ride.
4. No grease make the blinis burn.
5. No grease makes a strong heart.
(answer in the comments)


A few other favorites from the evening--only one of which was true (answer in the comments):

1. There is an old Italian saying, "Old meat makes...the wisest salami."

2. There is an old saying, "You can saddle a horse and ride it well, but you can't lead it to water."

3. There is an old saying, "Water does not cleanse us to the bone"

4. There us an old saying, "The sea never buys fish."

5. There is an old Swedish saying, "Don't throw out the old watering can until you buy a new one from Ikea."


Highly recommended for mixed-age groups!

Chicken Whisperers

And one escapes all this loving attention:

Interlude: A Knitted Quilt

The amazing group of homeschoolers with whom we attended farm camp has done many projects together. The most recent is this lovely pieced afghan or blanket--made up of 6-inch garter stitch squares made by the children and their parents. (My family had a blast making squares during this season's Snowpocalypse.) Many of the squares were knit from hand spun yarn, and several were hand dyed as well. What a lovely project to work on together!

We auctioned off the quilt to raise money for Haiti Projects, a multi-pronged non-profit working in Fond des Blancs, Haiti. Some of its projects are a craft cooperative that provides work and much needed cash for women, a tuition program to help poor families send their children to school, a family health care clinic which offers planning services to those who wish to control their family's size, a community library to encourage reading skills among local citizens, and a micro-lending program to help farmers borrow money for tools and animal raising.

In 10 days, our homeschooling group sold 143 raffle tickets, raising $1,430 for Haiti Projects!

While we were thrilled that a local kindergarten teacher received the quilt, we were sorry to see it go, too. It has inspired my family to try making our own blanket. The squares have just begun. More details soon!

Playground with Cows

After all the hours in the car driving up to New York state, the kids in the homeschooling group were ready to brave the rainy day and let off a little energy.  They were all thrilled to see a space at the farm all set up for a little boisterous play.  And the children loved the proximity of their playground to the cows' playspace:



They paused in their play to watch the cows begin their afternoon parade to the barn for a little hay:





How wonderful when the calves came onto the playground to play with the human kids!





Mamas were both watchful and patient:



(to be continued)

Growing

My family spent the last week living on a dairy farm in New York state--chaperoning twelve homeschooled children at farm camp. It was an amazing, exhausting week full of both laughter and tears, stress and quiet peace.

The biodynamic farm we visited is the same farm that Colin Beavan ("No Impact Man") visited with his family. Although it was the first time David and I had been up there, it was the third year of camp for many of the children.

In the next few posts, I'll talk more about some of the incredible things we got to do and see.

Today I'll leave you with a few observations about what went on in my own head during those times we were acting as chaperones:

1. I was flooded with memories of the deep pain of homesickness I experienced when I first went to camp when I was a child.

2. I was overwhelmed by the intense memories of how cruel and exclusionary I was (usually unintentionally) when I was eleven years old.

3. I was surprised that the boys, still physically immature, were far more modest than the girls, many of whom are beginning to develop.

4. I was much more aware of the weather's effect on our attitudes and behaviors than I am at home in our suburban world, full of inside activities to blunt the connection with nature.

5. I was very amused to watch the entire group of children embrace whatever chores they were offered, even chores they complain about at home. All were eager to help in any way they could, whether it was taking out compost, beating rugs, or washing dishes. At the end of the week as we said our goodbyes, I invited any of them to come to help at our house whenever they were missing camp!

* * *

It is good to be home--back to the beginning of sprouting radishes and arugula in our backyard, back to our own beds and pillows, back to our usual routines. But spending this spring week in a place of such obvious rebirth and growth emphasizes to me how important it is to remember our connections to the land and to each other.

More details about the farm to follow in the coming days.

Moving to the Foreground

Last weekend, the weather was glorious in the DC area. Several days of sun and warmth rewarded us for surviving the snowiest winter our region had ever seen.

Of course, the gorgeous days called us to the garden. This year we've decided to expand our gardening space to the front yard. The backyard garden, which has produced much for us, has gotten shadier and shadier as the years go by.

We decided to construct raised beds the easy way.



After laying out a design, we went to the lumber store and purchased 2 boards 8 feet long and 2 boards 10 feet long. We asked the store to cut 3 1/2 foot lengths off each board.

Because we have absolutely no skills, we decided to buy decking L's. I don't know what these are actually called, but they make it possible to create perfect right angles by sliding boards into slots. It made laying out the beds quite easy. (You can see the metal L's at the base of each corner.) We then screwed the tops of the boards together.



After an afternoon of work, we had all four beds laid out. There is a large space in the middle so we can have picnics, play in the grass, and enjoy the sun. We might put a table in the center. If we feel a need for more gardening space at some point in the future, we might construct a 4x4 diamond or something in the center.

We then lined the beds with cardboard we'd been collecting all winter. Many of the large pieces came from the cool refrigerator we recently purchased.



David always appreciates photos that show him to such advantage:



Our son, old enough now to be a big help in construction projects like this, was wiped out after an afternoon of work. He was very pleased to find new beds exactly where he wanted them:



After his nap, our son soaked the cardboard down--using the leak in our hose as the main source of water distribution.



After filling the beds with cardboard and watering it in so well, we're really hoping to raise some full-sized boxes by the end of the season... (Do you know Edward Lear's nonsense botany? I think he could draw the box plants better than I ever could.)



Tomorrow, we're having 3 cubic yards of topsoil delivered. David plans to go with a friend to collect composted horse manure from a local stable to amend the dirt. And then soon, we will start planting spring seeds and then summer transplants. Here we are at the beginning of our own front-yard victory garden!

Statistics

According to a new Harris Interactive poll, conservatives have some pretty strong feelings about Obama.

67% of Republicans think the President is a socialist, and 57% believe he is a Muslim.  51% believe he wants to turn over the sovereignty of the United States to a one world government.

Perhaps the most astonishing statistic is that 24% of Republicans believe that Obama "may be the Anti-Christ."  (Only 6% of self-identified Democrats believe he may be the Anti-Christ.  WHAT?!)

Be sure to check out some of the other lovely little tidbits at the poll site.

Nothing

I just finished Raj Patel's The Value of Nothing: How to Reshape Market Society and Redefine Democracy. What a great read!  I'll say straight up that while I am an academic historian, I know precious little about economics.  Luckily, Patel assumes his readers know, well, nothing--and yet he treat us as intelligent and thoughtful people at the same time.

He also has a sense of humor.  I loved the lightbulb jokes that showed his point.  I loved his pithy snippets of wisdom that pepper the book and had me reading lines outloud to my partner.  Best of all, he has FABULOUS footnotes--ones that simply support his textual comments but also literate inciteful ones that add depth to the comments he makes in the body. (Footnoting TS Eliot in an economic analysis? You get points from me.)

Before I read the book, I had heard that it was commie pinko drivel.  Well, with all honesty, that just does not condemn a book for me.  In fact, as a driveling commie pinko myself, that always makes me hope to find a soulmate.

But of course Raj Patel, while remaining a soulmate in many ways, is certainly not spouting radical leftist stuff.  He's talking in a more intellectual way (and perhaps a more thoughtful way) about more or less what Michael Moore was talking about in Capitalism: A Love Story: how unfettered capitalism can absolutely destroy true democracy.

I especially love chapter six. Here Patel talks about everything from the demise of the commons and the rise of accusations of witchcraft--to the creation of colonialism and the idea of the "savage"--to territorial use rights of fisheries. At other places in the book he talks about the politics of breastfeeding (a subject near and dear to my heart which also exemplifies many of his points). The whole book is a feast of ideas, combined with a critical thesis. Go, now, to your local independent bookstore or to your library and get thee a'readin'!

Cooling Things Down

or, Purchasing an Extremely Energy Efficient Refrigerator
...and reducing our electric bill by almost 40% overnight.


Since my partner David and I moved into our house a dozen years ago, we've been thinking about the day when we would have to replace the 1970 refrigerator. As the years passed, the old white Kenmore continued to work perfectly--but it was incredibly inefficient, using about 1800 kilowatts per year.

Because the refrigerator was relatively small and surrounded by cabinets, our choices were quite limited. Unless we wanted to redo that entire half of our tiny kitchen, we would need to stick with a super-small model. When we first started looking at our options...continued here

The Unplugged Schoolhouse

During the month of March, my homeschooled son and I have decided that our "one small change" will be to pull the plug on all electrical use during at least one school day per week.

For a while, my family has celebrated--albeit inconsistently--a weekly powerdown evening where (after the meal is prepared) we spend the rest of the evening together without using electricity. We light the table with beeswax candles, spend time together reading aloud and playing recorder trios and just talking, and go up to bed on the early side. I hope we will get back in the habit this month.

For our unplugged schoolhouse, however, the challenge will be a bit different. My son and I plan to turn off any lights as well as the laptop by 8:3O or 9 am, depending on when we wake up. Everything will stay off until 3:30 or 4. Although these are traditional school times for many children, most of that time is not actually "school" for us. Instead, it is time for music practice, free reading, yoga or running around outside, and other pursuits such as knitting or drawing or folding paper airplanes. (My son would add that his chore of taking out the compost also falls during this time.)

We're honestly fairly removed from a lot of plugged-in entertainment compared to many families, I guess.  We don't own a TV or some game system or anything like that. But significant amounts of our days disappear to the hungry soul of this laptop. We've fallen into the habit of using it as a teacher sometimes--especially enjoying things like Thinkwell and the free Hippocampus. My son loves to watch old Pink Panther cartoons and Buster Keaton movies--as well as Myth Busters--on Netflix instant-watch.  Not that these things are bad; they certainly aren't occasionally.  But too much always seems to leave us further removed from any real-life connection than I think either of us wants.

A powered-down homeschool day also forces us to get out the solar oven and cook in the sun at least one lunch a week.  On days that are very cloudy, we'll have cold sandwiches.

By not starting the day until 8:30, I can make a pot of tea for myself and encase it in my homemade recycled-sweater tea cozy to keep it warm for a while.  Cheating?  Maybe.  But a hot beverage seems to be the only way I can stand freezing our buns off this season.

We're allowing ourselves the liberty of deciding which day to celebrate the unplugged schoolhouse.  Mondays are our free day.  When we are home, it will be ideal.  But we do sometimes go on adventures in downtown DC on Mondays and would therefore be mooching off a museum's electrical supply.  On Tuesdays, my son has a piano lesson at home.  The room with our piano is one of the darker rooms in our house--and our deal is that if it is a cloudy day, it will be perfectly acceptable for my son and his piano teacher to turn on the light in that room during the lesson.  This Tuesday was our first day and although it was cloudy, neither bothered to turn on the lights when they walked in the room.  (The teacher has no idea about this game, by the way.)

Just like last month's small change of not eating out, this day of powerdown is not something I imagine keeping rigidly for the rest of our lives.  Instead, I hope that this month will get us in the habit of relying on ourselves rather than our devices--and making us more conscious of the role of electricity in our lives all the time.

Anyone want to join us?

One Small Change: Eating In Recap

Last month, my "one small change" was to eat dinner every night at home. The month was quite a success--more than I could have predicted.

There were a few rough spots, but not many. On one afternoon, I was craving take-out pizza as we came home from a day at the Smithsonian museums, but by dinnertime we were ready to spend the effort for a home-cooked meal. On the night where I could just not stand the idea of cooking at all, my partner David took over the complete preparations.

One evening, our 10yo son served us a lovely candlelight dinner. He played both chief cook and waiter. He was even the evening entertainment, serenading us with his violin. (He did not play the role of chief bottle-washer, unfortunately.)

We went to a party at friends' house one evening where we had vegan take-out from a locally-owned Middle Eastern restaurant in town. It was yummy and we did not feel like we were cheating at all. There is something about time with friends that changes all the rules.

On the last night of the month, I stayed home recovering from a stomach bug while my fiddling son and his Papa went to a local Scottish pub for a children's Irish music session. (As odd as it sounds, I suspect Irish and Scottish pubs in this country probably do a lot of crossing over....) Like eating at our friends' house, this meal seemed right, even though it technically broke the rules.

So what is it that made these seem like times to bend our self-imposed regulations? I think it is because both times we were after something special--not just the default position. A special event, a time of togetherness, a celebration--these are things I do not want to miss as time goes forward. Even a special meal--be it a cuisine I've never tasted, or a meal at a new downtown restaurant in our little inner suburb, or a feast at an organic or local restaurant--could certainly count. We have no intention of continuing this "one small change" in its extremity--but it has set us up to be more deliberate about our choices.

Of course, when I began to eat again after my stomach bug, it was March--and we immediately went out to my favorite Pho soup restaurant. (David chose a vegan dish, mostly to avoid what is probably CAFO meat. Sometimes, especially in the face of Pho, he is simply a better person than I am.)

I knew I had soul-mates on this eating-in journey, but I had no idea how many I would find. As I mentioned before, my initial inspiration came from The Conscious Shopper--but during the course of February, I also discovered Cathy Erway's blog and also her brand-new book The Art of Eating In: How I Learned to Stop Spending and Love the Stove. To celebrate the release of the book, Huffington post sponsored The Week of Eating In--which drew an enormous number of other folks to the same challenge I was setting for myself. And what I thought might be a challenge that could isolate us introduced us to a whole new online community!

Tomorrow: One Small Change for March.

Cherries in Winter

When magazine writer Suzan Colon lost her job as the economic crisis came to a head, she found something even more wonderful to replace it: a beautiful life, and a brilliant and thoughtful idea for a book:Cherries in Winter: My Family's Recipe for Hope in Hard Times.

The book--a quick read with print large enough even for those of us who just might be starting to need bifocals--revolves around how Colon's family history sustains her and inspires her through times of trouble.  While they cook classic family recipes, Colon's mother tells her stories about her family's past.  And then Suzan finds the writings and recipes of her "Nana" Matilda, who created a life during the Great Depression and WWII years with strength and verve.  The lesson that Suzan Colon uncovers from her family allows her to recognize her own ability to weather the storms occuring in her own life.

Cherries in Winter is a lovely and relaxing book--but it isn't the perfect read in all circumstances.  Clearly, it is not a political or analytical discussion of the economic crisis.  Neither will it make much sense to anyone who has struggled with any real poverty or hunger.  She and her family have plenty to live a comfortable life--just not the upscale life they had led before (of $200 haircuts and fancy meals).  A husband with a job and a substantial savings account protect them. 

But nevertheless, the shock and the changes for Colon's family have been very real.  As the author says, "I used to tell my parents they'd never have to worry about their old age, that I would take care of them.  Can I say that now?"

Of course, many people have weathered  much worse during this crisis--and many had faced more difficult situations even before the recession started.  If you are expecting a guide through any substantial struggle, this is not the book for you.  Instead, it will probably appeal to those of us who have been required to cut back on our luxuries but are still doing OK--and those of us who have chosen a simpler life during this time (or before the economic crisis began).

There are several recipes in addition to the gentle storytelling.  None really inspired me to cook them, but they did make me think of the foods that had been passed down to me in the history of my own family.

The title of the book, Cherries in Winter, is the author's articulation, handed down from the matriarchs of her family, of the idea that very occasional and very special treats can help us maintain a sense of balance: the importance of "spending extra, just once in a while, where there is no extra to be spent.  Because."  Why?  "It's a deep breath reminding us not to become miserly in spirit.  We may be broke but we're not poor."

What is your extravagance, your "cherries in winter"?

In the end, Colon recognizes her bounty: "It wasn't at all bad--sometimes what looked at first like more rotten luck turned out to be fate's little crooked smile."

I highly recommend this light but thoughtful book as the thing to pick up as you relax with a cup of tea in front of the fire--or as you sit in your garden on a warm summer day (a day I am dreaming about through this cold and snowy winter).