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.