'Tis the season to be eating apples! My reason for creating this was, in essence, because I wanted apple crisp and I also had leftover pancake batter to use up. But the result turned out pretty well, so I'm sharing it here. A result of putting the pancake batter over the apples before the crisp was added on top was that the pan of Clafouti Crisp cut up nicely into bars that held together for serving. With this recipe, it wasn't overly sweet, but you could easily add either sugar or warm honey or maple syrup to the batter if you'd like.
The night before, or several hours before, soak 1 cup whole wheat flour in 1 cup buttermilk.
Peel and chop enough apples to form a thick layer on the bottom of a greased 8x12 pan. I like to use an apple slicer and then cut the slices into small pieces.
To the soaked flour, add 3 eggs, slightly beaten, 1/2 tsp baking soda, 1/4 tsp salt, 1 tsp vanilla, and 1/2 tsp cinnamon (optional: up to 5 T. sugar, warm honey, or warm maple syrup). Pour this over the apples.
Combine 2/3 c. flour, 2 c. oats, 1 c. brown sugar, 1 tsp salt, 2 tsp cinnamon, and 2/3 c. melted butter. Spread this over the apples. Bake at 375 for approximately 40 minutes.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Pasta Sauces
I recently saw a commercial in which Ragu and Prego were compared in a taste test. I think Prego won, even among regular Ragu-ers.
In other words, among people with lousy taste in spaghetti sauce, when choosing between two mediocre sauces, one of them did, in fact, have to win.
And then there was the Chef Boyar-dee commercial, in which we were told the history of this American staple, how a restaurant's pasta sauce became so popular that people were asking for the recipe and instead, they started sending it home with them.
In other words, back in the 1920s, Americans had no idea how to make a decent pasta sauce.
In other words, among people with lousy taste in spaghetti sauce, when choosing between two mediocre sauces, one of them did, in fact, have to win.
And then there was the Chef Boyar-dee commercial, in which we were told the history of this American staple, how a restaurant's pasta sauce became so popular that people were asking for the recipe and instead, they started sending it home with them.
In other words, back in the 1920s, Americans had no idea how to make a decent pasta sauce.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Scene from an emergency room
A police officer escorts in a young man in handcuffs who will later "swear to gawd" that he wouldn't have run if he'd known it was a policeman... or, anyway, if he'd known the officer had a dog. I guess they guy's hindsight is better than his foresight, especially when he a ragged wound in his forearm to remind him. Maybe that's not hindsight so much as houndsight?
But really, how was he supposed to know the guy was a police officer? As he noted, "It could have been anyone" shining a flashlight in his face. And saying "Stop! Police!"
But really, how was he supposed to know the guy was a police officer? As he noted, "It could have been anyone" shining a flashlight in his face. And saying "Stop! Police!"
Monday, September 12, 2011
Communing With Water
Yesterday marked the third time in the six weeks or so that Lauren and I have gone to First Unitarian Church in South Bend on a Sunday. It was, in a manner of speaking, Kickoff Sunday for them as much as it was for the NFL, which I suppose made our first couple visits preseason games. We got to see how the Unitarian offense and defense stacked up against the other teams we've scouted in the past. For the record: they look good this year.
Anyway, they had an interesting ceremony, which I gather is annual, called Water Communion. People brought with them water they had collected at some point in the past year or else used some of the provided water to represent symbolically some of the water that's passed through their lives. Many brought water from vacation cottages they visited, many involving long-standing traditions--and many noting that it would be the last time they went there, for one reason or another. The few words each person or family spoke pointed to more or less significant events in their lives.
We didn't go up for our first Water Communion, but it did get me to thinking about the place water has had in my life. After falling into a pool in a motel in Michigan when I was pretty young, I had a deathly fear of water that persisted more or less into my 20s, though I at least got better at masking it. As a result, although I grew up just 25 minutes off Lake Erie, I can't say that it loomed large in my childish imagination.
Water really entered my life in a significant way when I went to Kenyon College. There, one of the first things we did was learn the school songs, including "Kokosing Farewell," which is a song about the river that flows past Kenyon. I would go on to sing that song through four years of Chamber Singers--its status as the unofficial alma mater meant that we closed all of our concerts with it. The song talks about how, metaphorically, we students both were and were not like the river, then looked ahead to a time when we would be far from that river and yet feel called back, even as our lives came to a close. It's good stuff, very poetic. Anyway, the fact is that the river itself wasn't exactly omnipresent--it was a bit of a hike to get down there, so it wasn't like we spent every day looking at the river. But it was there, and more importantly it was in our imaginations as a symbol of ourselves and or our experience. That was where water became important.
Water didn't figure into graduate school life very much, but I distinctly remember my experience when I interviewed for what would be my first teaching job. Most of the interviews were done and I was sitting in front of the main administrative building, beside a fountain, thinking about whether I wanted to work there (if they even offered). And I was reminded of just how soothing the sounds of flowing water are. I suspected even then there might be something innate in us to which is speaks, and now my parenting experience seems to confirm it: babies fall asleep with relative ease under the influence of white noise machines, presumably because it takes them back to the sounds of the womb, where mother's nurturing blood was flowing all around, rhythmic waves from her heartbeat to her child by way of a substance that's mostly water. And between that fountain there in the middle of campus, the pond and its fountain on the way to the gym, and the rivers that separate the school from the town and run along another edge of the bluff on which it sits, there was a whole lot of water around there, and something about that made me feel welcome. I took the job.
When I left there five years later, I found myself living in The Ocean State. I couldn't see water from either of the apartments I lived in, but it was all around. It was in the air, the ocean scent wafting up to us. It was in the seafood section of the grocer--so much fresh fish wherever you went. It was... everywhere. I loved it.
And then, after a brief stop back at my first school. we made our way to our current school, situated on the 2nd largest natural freshwater lake in Indiana. It's a beautiful, beautiful lake, where people have beautiful, expensive homes and great summers. Unless I forget, I see the lake every day, because it's right there where I live and work. Our first year here, we made our song of the year Carbon Leaf's "Lake of Silver Bells" because it captured a certain spirit of what we wanted our life to be, a "year of living dangerously happy" as we move closer and closer to our hopes, dreams, and ideals. So far, we still think that's the kind of place we live, and that brings us full circle, to water that is both literal and symbolic.
Anyway, they had an interesting ceremony, which I gather is annual, called Water Communion. People brought with them water they had collected at some point in the past year or else used some of the provided water to represent symbolically some of the water that's passed through their lives. Many brought water from vacation cottages they visited, many involving long-standing traditions--and many noting that it would be the last time they went there, for one reason or another. The few words each person or family spoke pointed to more or less significant events in their lives.
We didn't go up for our first Water Communion, but it did get me to thinking about the place water has had in my life. After falling into a pool in a motel in Michigan when I was pretty young, I had a deathly fear of water that persisted more or less into my 20s, though I at least got better at masking it. As a result, although I grew up just 25 minutes off Lake Erie, I can't say that it loomed large in my childish imagination.
Water really entered my life in a significant way when I went to Kenyon College. There, one of the first things we did was learn the school songs, including "Kokosing Farewell," which is a song about the river that flows past Kenyon. I would go on to sing that song through four years of Chamber Singers--its status as the unofficial alma mater meant that we closed all of our concerts with it. The song talks about how, metaphorically, we students both were and were not like the river, then looked ahead to a time when we would be far from that river and yet feel called back, even as our lives came to a close. It's good stuff, very poetic. Anyway, the fact is that the river itself wasn't exactly omnipresent--it was a bit of a hike to get down there, so it wasn't like we spent every day looking at the river. But it was there, and more importantly it was in our imaginations as a symbol of ourselves and or our experience. That was where water became important.
Water didn't figure into graduate school life very much, but I distinctly remember my experience when I interviewed for what would be my first teaching job. Most of the interviews were done and I was sitting in front of the main administrative building, beside a fountain, thinking about whether I wanted to work there (if they even offered). And I was reminded of just how soothing the sounds of flowing water are. I suspected even then there might be something innate in us to which is speaks, and now my parenting experience seems to confirm it: babies fall asleep with relative ease under the influence of white noise machines, presumably because it takes them back to the sounds of the womb, where mother's nurturing blood was flowing all around, rhythmic waves from her heartbeat to her child by way of a substance that's mostly water. And between that fountain there in the middle of campus, the pond and its fountain on the way to the gym, and the rivers that separate the school from the town and run along another edge of the bluff on which it sits, there was a whole lot of water around there, and something about that made me feel welcome. I took the job.
When I left there five years later, I found myself living in The Ocean State. I couldn't see water from either of the apartments I lived in, but it was all around. It was in the air, the ocean scent wafting up to us. It was in the seafood section of the grocer--so much fresh fish wherever you went. It was... everywhere. I loved it.
And then, after a brief stop back at my first school. we made our way to our current school, situated on the 2nd largest natural freshwater lake in Indiana. It's a beautiful, beautiful lake, where people have beautiful, expensive homes and great summers. Unless I forget, I see the lake every day, because it's right there where I live and work. Our first year here, we made our song of the year Carbon Leaf's "Lake of Silver Bells" because it captured a certain spirit of what we wanted our life to be, a "year of living dangerously happy" as we move closer and closer to our hopes, dreams, and ideals. So far, we still think that's the kind of place we live, and that brings us full circle, to water that is both literal and symbolic.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
With regrets
Well, the blog hasn't burned down in the last 18 days, even though no one's been around to watch for arsonists. That's something, I suppose.
It's been busy busy busy around here. When last I wrote, I was traveling with a generation up and down the family tree to and from Memphis. Almost immediately upon return and reunion with my wife, we set off to spend a few days at renting a condo at a resort in northern Michigan (lower peninsula). We had a nice time with sunny but coolish weather and no convenient internet. Almost immediately upon returning, we had meetings at school, followed quickly by the return of my entire unit (well, mostly) for Band Camp. One time, at band camp, I was very busy.
As you can tell from the number of times I transitioned with "almost immediately," things have been busy. Things still haven't settled down, but there's never a better time than the present to get back to things we want to get back to, so here I am going through the usual apologies for flagging attention to my blog and vowing with all good intentions to do better.
In any case, I do regret the blogs unwritten. While I was in Memphis, I got word that I had won our library's adult summer reading program, though you'd hardly know it from reading my blog... which is to say that I'm way behind on writing book reviews. Some of them may never get written, given the way that the most useful bits often quickly slip from the mind's grasp and make retrospective reviewing progressively more difficult. Likewise, the ideas that the books inspired within me are mostly lost, or at least subsumed in the daily chatter, though one might hope they could rise again given the right prompting. Mostly, though, I suspect most have passed, and that's regrettable.
It's been busy busy busy around here. When last I wrote, I was traveling with a generation up and down the family tree to and from Memphis. Almost immediately upon return and reunion with my wife, we set off to spend a few days at renting a condo at a resort in northern Michigan (lower peninsula). We had a nice time with sunny but coolish weather and no convenient internet. Almost immediately upon returning, we had meetings at school, followed quickly by the return of my entire unit (well, mostly) for Band Camp. One time, at band camp, I was very busy.
As you can tell from the number of times I transitioned with "almost immediately," things have been busy. Things still haven't settled down, but there's never a better time than the present to get back to things we want to get back to, so here I am going through the usual apologies for flagging attention to my blog and vowing with all good intentions to do better.
In any case, I do regret the blogs unwritten. While I was in Memphis, I got word that I had won our library's adult summer reading program, though you'd hardly know it from reading my blog... which is to say that I'm way behind on writing book reviews. Some of them may never get written, given the way that the most useful bits often quickly slip from the mind's grasp and make retrospective reviewing progressively more difficult. Likewise, the ideas that the books inspired within me are mostly lost, or at least subsumed in the daily chatter, though one might hope they could rise again given the right prompting. Mostly, though, I suspect most have passed, and that's regrettable.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Twos-Day Travel Update
I'm currently traveling with my mom, visiting family in Kentucky and Tennessee (with forays into Mississippi and Arkansas). Here are pairs of observations...
Two things I wish I'd brought: 1) the maple syrup I put into a smaller jar to bring along for the oatmeal that I brought for Thea and 2) --and more importantly--my pillow. It was on my list and just didn't make it.
Two things I wish I could have brought: 1) Lauren. She could even take up both spots on this list, because wow do I appreciate not being a single parent when I'm not! 2) since I've got space for it, let's say a whole fridge full of healthy food and the means to prepare it. My breakfast this morning was so far from ideal.
Two colossal blunders: 1) letting Thea have a McDonald's chocolate shake in its original container--even though I lowered the level a bit to try to prevent her from spilling it, I failed. She spilled all over herself. 2) letting Thea play with a bottle of ketchup at a restaurant--she dropped it onto the floor where it shattered and scattered glass and tomatoey goodness all over.
Two books I've been listening to: 1) Moonwalking with Einstein by Joshua Foer, 2) The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to our Brains by Nicholas Carr. They make a very good pair.
And there's the briefest snapshot of our trip.
Two things I wish I'd brought: 1) the maple syrup I put into a smaller jar to bring along for the oatmeal that I brought for Thea and 2) --and more importantly--my pillow. It was on my list and just didn't make it.
Two things I wish I could have brought: 1) Lauren. She could even take up both spots on this list, because wow do I appreciate not being a single parent when I'm not! 2) since I've got space for it, let's say a whole fridge full of healthy food and the means to prepare it. My breakfast this morning was so far from ideal.
Two colossal blunders: 1) letting Thea have a McDonald's chocolate shake in its original container--even though I lowered the level a bit to try to prevent her from spilling it, I failed. She spilled all over herself. 2) letting Thea play with a bottle of ketchup at a restaurant--she dropped it onto the floor where it shattered and scattered glass and tomatoey goodness all over.
Two books I've been listening to: 1) Moonwalking with Einstein by Joshua Foer, 2) The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to our Brains by Nicholas Carr. They make a very good pair.
And there's the briefest snapshot of our trip.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Book Review: The City & The City
In The City & The City, China Miéville gives us a murder-mystery that gets shelved under "Fantasy" only because of its location: the twin cities of Besźel and Ul Qoma, which occupy the same space and yet exist as foreign entities to one another. Heck, maybe it's not even fantasy, per se: the mechanism of this divide is never really explained and may simply be a distinction that the citizens of each city make in their minds. In an almost Orwellian act of double-think, the citizens of each city must, from a young age, learn to ignore the other city and its citizens, to simultaneously see them (for instance, to avoid car accidents or tripping over homeless people) and un-see them. It's an interesting premise with, of course, real-world application. After all, even if the training isn't so formal, aren't we all conditioned to see certain aspects of our own world, our own culture, and of the cultures of others, and to be almost unable to see other aspects?
The action centers around Tyador Borlú, the Besźel Extreme Crime Squad detective who ends up investigating the murder of a graduate student who was apparently murdered in Ul Qoma and dumped in Besźel. Ordinarily, such a crime would fall under the purview of Breach, the name for both the laws against Besźel and Ul Qoma interacting and for the secret police who enforce those laws, but it happens that for technical reasons the crime does not, in fact, involve Breach, so Borlú finds himself working with his counterparts in Ul Qoma and on the edges of his city's laws to try to find justice for the murdered girl and to find out the truth that she died for--truths that are at the heart of the workings of Miéville's fictional world and which could threaten the status quo in a number of ways.
Overall, I found the novel to be an enjoyable read, a mystery that kept me in suspense well into the novel, in part because it's not a simple "whodunit" sort of mystery but instead involves a fairly complex skein of interests and motivations that illuminate the whole of this society. At the same time that I enjoyed the novel, I also felt like it could have gone deeper than it did, could have explored its own premise more deeply than it did. Perhaps that perception on my part is symptomatic of the fact that I listened to it as an audiobook, thus letting it pass through me more easily than it might have if it had been fully masticated and digested in dead tree format. If so, I would love to read a brilliant essay or review showing me my own shortcomings in this regard, because the novel did seem to have, philosophically speaking, more potential than payoff.
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