going live

I've been complaining to Mr. Beeton lately about the lack of traffic on my blog. "I really want to know how to protect my tomatoes!" I lamented. "But nobody reads my site aside from you!" "Martha," he replied. "No one - aside from me, your sister, and your brother ("And, a small sampling of random readers who stumbled upon my site," I remind him.) -  even knows your blog exists. It's your best kept secret." Hrmph. 

He's right. I haven't publicized my blog to friends or family. I guess I'm a little shy. The easiest thing to do would be to post the link on that social networking site that everyone seems to belong to. But, then I start to think about my "friends" - old high school classmates, former students, work colleagues - all of whom - if I posted the link - would be able to trawl through my postings. Would the former high school cheerleader who was never quite mean but never quite nice laugh as I complained about the drain of sifting through student source packets when she was running after three kids all under the age of four? Would the bright, excitable student from the Spring semester curse my name as she tried, desperately, to reproduce the recipe for tandoori chicken in her residence hall? Would my colleagues finally realize that sometimes, just sometimes, their excessive emails drive me batty? It's strange. I'd feel very exposed. Yet, isn't that what blogging is all about? Having an audience is what makes blogging different from diary writing, right?

Just when I've almost convinced myself  that posting my link is the right thing to do, I get all anxious about crafting that first post that they will encounter once they hit the link. Chances are, if I do post the link to my page, it might show up in my "friends'" newsfeeds. In my imagination, they'll link immediately to the page, eager to read what I've been writing, and it's imperative that I have something fabulous for them - otherwise they'll never return. A terrific recipe. A witty rumination on laundry. Something, anything, to keep them entertained. In her book Cooking for Mr. Latte, Amanda Hesser writes about the pressure she felt cooking for Mr. Latte in her home: "The first meal you cook someone is intimate. Not just if it's for a date. And not just because no one cooks anymore - it really has nothing to do with whether you are a good cook or not. It's an entry into the way you think, what you've seen and know, the way you treat others, how you perceive pleasure. Dinner guests can see by how you compose a meal if you are an ungenerous hothead or a nuturer, stingy or clever, fussy or stylish" (19). That's a little like how I feel about this post and putting up the link to The Happy Homekeeper for all to see.

So I'll start with a recipe for chickpea and carrot salad, which I adapted from the following site, A Mingling of Tastes. 

Carrot and Chickpea Salad with Olives and Cumin Vinaigrette

Julie says, to make the vinaigrette, mix the following ingredients:

• 1 medium garlic clove
• zest of 1/2 a lemon and juice of the whole lemon
• 1 tbs. ground cumin
• 2 tsp. Hungarian paprika
• pinch of cayenne pepper
• 1 tsp. salt
• black pepper, to taste
• 3 tbs. extra virgin olive oil

I say, "Cut up four carrots into small, round pieces. Boil them until they are tender. Mix them with a can of drained chick peas, a little yellow onion (or some scallions), and some green (or black) olives. Coat with vinaigrette and chill in refrigerator until ready to eat."

We ate this salad with tandoori chicken and lemonade mojitos last night. The chickpea salad would be easy to make if you live in residence hall downtown, but the tandoori chicken would not. And, hopefully, if you're a first-year student you'll avoid the lemonade mojitos until you're of age. If you're an aging cheerleader, however, I'd encourage you to have two.

And, now, I'll just sit back and wait for some dear readers to discover...

Keep sweeping, Martha

Finished reading Climbing the Mango Trees by Madhur Jaffrey.

land of the living

I never realized how much of my life revolves around food. Right now, of course, my academic work is focusing on food, but it's more than just that. I use food to mark occasions - from the big events in life like anniversaries to birthdays to the everyday small stuff like finishing an article or actually having cleaned the house. Essentially, ever since my high school days when Twin Peaks first aired, I've lived by Special Agent Dale Cooper's philosophy:  "Harry, I'm going to let you in on a little secret.  Every day, once a day, give yourself a present. Don't plan it. Don't wait for it. Just let it happen. It could be a new shirt at the men's store, a catnap in your office chair, or two cups of good, hot black coffee." For me, these presents nearly always revolve around food - frappucinos, take-out sushi, fresh veggies. Even more likely, I get this tendency to celebrate gastronomically from my Nana. She always used food to express her love, and I remember a lot of good times at her house that involved some sort of deliciousness (I'm still searching for a recipe of hers that resulted in a dreamy, blended jello/ice cream dessert... I inherited her dishes to serve it in, but I can't seem to get the measurements exactly right to reproduce the darn thing).

The reason I'm reflecting right now is because I am finally - after a painful week - able to eat. My summer bug turned out to be strep throat, and it had progressed so far that, after attacking my tonsils, it actually crawled out of my throat and started assaulting my mouth proper, causing painful blisters all around the inside of my mouth. Most of what I ate caused my mouth to burn, burn, burn, so I was reduced to a diet of yogurt, applesauce, oatmeal, and buttered 'ronis. So painful. Even more painful than the blisters. 

But, today, for the first time, I feel better. The blisters are almost healed, and I'm celebrating with a roast - some serious comfort food. I popped it in the crock pot for the day with half a box of beef stock, some cut up yellow onions, some sliced red potatoes, and some carrots. I can't think of a better way to celebrate. My Nana would be proud.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watching Mad Men: Season 1. Finished reading Climbing the Mango Trees by Madhur Jaffrey.

summer buggin'

I've got some kind of weird summertime bug. It's causing me aches, chills, nausea, headache, swollen glands, and some kind of weird, burning rash-type thing in my mouth. It's bizarre. I went to the dentist today, thinking I had something lodged in my gums which was causing everything else, but he said it's a virus. Tomorrow, I'll get a second opinion. I need some sleep and some relief from the throbbing in my mouth.

On the bright side, it looks like it may have been squirrels and not deer responsible for our tomato pillaging. Okay, that's not particularly good either. Especially when the culprits are now running around in the space between our ceiling and our roof. Apparently, they've evicted the birds who are much quieter and claimed the space as their own. Calls to our management company have gone unanswered. 

My sickness means that I haven't been able to post a recipe for lemonade that I made up the other day - in part, because I still need to pick up some ingredients to finish it off. It's half-finished right now in the fridge, and it combines a part of the white sangria recipe I posted about earlier and Paula Deen's recipe for homemade lemonade. If and when it gets done, I'll share.

For now, I need to rinse with salt water. That will cure anything.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched Grey Gardens (HBO) and Bride Wars.

dang deer

Ella and I decided to spend the afternoon in the garden. Okay, so it's not exactly a garden, but it's as close as we can get here in the city. Mr. Beeton and I have been very excited because our tomato plants have about six tomatoes on them, and some of them are getting ripe! We've been dreaming of gazpacho, bruschetta, and eating them right off the vine.

BUT THEY'RE GONE! Completely, utterly, totally gone.

I got Ella situated on her green leash, so she could sunbathe, and when I walked over to the container garden, the pepper plant was knocked over as was the tomato plant. And, the tomato plant was BARE! Something had knocked the pepper plant out of the way and eaten the tomatoes right off the vine... like I've been dreaming of. 

My suspicion is that the deer are to blame. I know, I know, we're in the city...but we've got a small population of deer in the woods across from our apartment. I saw them munching on some flowers in front of one of the apartment complexes next to us. So, yes, I'm thinking it's deer. 

This is one of those times that I wish I had some loyal readers to help me! If anyone reads this blog and has any suggestions for keeping these pesky deer away, let me know. Our gazpacho depends on it.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Finished Tender at the Bone by Ruth Reichl.

third time

Mr. Beeton and I just got back from our vacation in Ocean City, New Jersey where we spent a lot of time jumping waves and flying kites with Baby M. Though we missed out on the skeeball and tilt-a-whirl, we managed to pack in all our other favorite things about the Jersey shore. And, I'm happy to say that when we returned our garden hadn't wilted nearly as much as I had thought it might, thanks, in part, to The Chemist.

Returning to D.C., though, was a bit of a jolt. I promised Mr. Beeton that I'd go food shopping for the week since he was going to be busy on campus preparing to teach a three-week long science summer camp. I felt as though I couldn't function when I hit the aisles. I was at a loss for how to shop. Eating out for a week straight made me forget all my homekeeping skills!

Yesterday morning, though, I cooked myself a delicious breakfast, finally mastering the art of the soft boiled egg. It took me three tries, but the final one came out perfect. Six minutes. Not too soft, not too hard. I mushed it up in a coffee mug, salted it, and enjoyed. 

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched Confessions of a Shopaholic. Finished reading Untangling My Chopsticks by Victoria Abbott Riccardi, Just Take My Heart by Mary Higgins Clark, and Plenty by Alisa Smith and J.B. Mackinnon. 

where all your dreams come true

Shriver's salt water taffy, Dot's bakery, skeeball, Wonderland, tilt-a-whirl, Mack and Manco's, seagulls, sunsets... here we come.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched Away We Go and Charade.