romanlily

the restlessness

2010-03-19T11:15:00.004-05:00

I've been feeling extraordinarily restless with my life this year. There have been plenty of colorful adventures and interesting twists (many of which would make juicy journal entries in this space if I was still into "confessional blogging") — yet I am still feeling frustrated, cooped up, short-tempered.

Life is good, life is sunny, life is generally in alignment with my values. Yet I feel cramped, confined, hungry for some kind of great journey. A change of scenery. New sights. Something to clear the eye, clear the mind.

I've spent several weeks trying to talk myself out of it. "You shouldn't be burned out. People would kill to have the life you have! Your good friends, your satisfying work, your peaceful oasis of an apartment..." Funny how that never seems to work, isn't it?

What does one do when one reaches this point of burnout? Sell everything and move to Brazil? Take up a villa in the Mediterranean, and hide out until the money expires? Add a sprinkle of red pepper to the pasta sauce?

I came across this quote last night in a lovely book I checked out from the library. The book is called A Woman's Path — it's a collection of "spiritual writing" about women's journeys across the world. This really spoke to me:

"My desire to slip away from the stories and the choices we make to secure our identity in everyday life has borne fruit again and again. To go on a pilgrimage, I discovered, you do not need to now what you are looking for, only that you are looking for something, and need urgently to find it. It is the urgency that does the work, a readiness to receive that finds the answers." — Janine Pommy Vega

Those words resonate with me so deeply at this point that my eyes fill with tears just reading them. I'm telling the universe that I am ready. I hope it is listening.

Elizabeth Gilbert on women who are not mothers

2010-02-25T12:35:00.003-05:00

"...the number of women throughout history who never become mothers is so high... that I now suspect that a certain degree of female childlessness is an evolutionary adaptation of the human race. Maybe it's not only perfectly legitimate for certain women to never reproduce, but also necessary. It's as though, as a species, we need an abundance of responsible, compassionate, childless women on hand to support the wider community in various ways. Childbearing and child rearing consume so much energy that the women who do become mothers can quickly become swallowed up by that daunting task — if not outright killed by it. Thus, maybe we need extra females, women on the sidelines with undepleted energies, who are ready to leap into the mix and keep the tribe supported. Childless women have always been particularly essential to human society because they often take on themselves the task of nurturing those who are not their official biological responsibility — and no other group does this to such a large degree. Childless women have always run orphanages and schools and hospitals. They are midwives and nuns and providers of charity. They heal the sick and teach the arts and often they become indispensable on the battlefield of life. Literally, in some cases. (Florence Nightingale comes to mind.)"

(Just one paragraph from Elizabeth Gilbert's latest book, Committed, which I love. I guess I'm revealing my leftist commie pinko roots by loving this thoroughly modern treatise on marriage. This paragraph in particular makes me nod ferociously in agreement.)

My top songs of 2009

2010-01-03T12:22:00.007-05:00

Sure, I'm a little late to the game, but here are some of the songs that I really loved in 2009.

(7) "Scuby" - Little Wings. I came across this mild, mellow tune while listening to a terrific episode of All Songs Considered with Will Oldham as guest DJ. I loved the gentle, whispery, lo-fi harmonies of this song, the meandering piano in the background, the hushed living room vibe. It was a perfect song to discover at the quiet beginning of last year.

(6) "Fiery Crash" - Andrew Bird. I know, I'm pulling a song from Andrew Bird's 2007 Armchair Apocrypha album, when I should be paying homage to his 2009 Noble Beast album. Somehow Armchair Apocrypha slid past me when it was first released. But this was the year I rediscovered it. It is a very, very good album, and "Fiery Crash" is my favorite track. I love the spacey layers of strings, the driving tempo, and all the typical oddball Bird flourishes — jaunty whistles and cryptic lyrics about a passenger's last thoughts as their airplane goes down in flames.

(5) "Ahuvati" - Kaki King. This is probably the song on this list that none of my readers will have heard of. I encountered this gorgeous instrumental number in a podcast, and I liked it so much I had to find out what it was. This song became a quiet soundtrack to some of the more meditative moments of 2009. King is originally from Atlanta, and she is only 30 years old. I think she has years of good work ahead of her. If you like "Ahuvati," you may also enjoy "First Brain" off King's album ...Until We Felt Red. This is beautiful, richly atmospheric music.

(4) "Down Low" - Teddy Thompson. Teddy Thompson is a fella who seems to have everything going for him. Son of folk music gods Richard and Linda Thompson, Teddy is young, talented, pedigreed and beautiful. He also collaborates frequently with my beloved Rufus Wainwright, which means I adore him by proxy. From 2007's Up Front and Down Low album, this song evokes last call in a dusty roadhouse. The album is a solid collection of covers and country standards. I seem to be able to listen to this album on repeat without ever tiring of it. Even when Teddy is singing about heartbreak, he's doing it so beautifully that your faith in humanity is quietly restored.

(3) "Two Tongues" - The Swell Season. This was a big year for The Swell Season — their Strict Joy album was released to great fanfare in October, triggering a string of sold-out performance dates across the country. "Two Tongues" really stood out for me on the album. Having been through a brief romance this year with someone I really enjoyed but did not trust, I was glad to encounter a song that reflected beautifully on that landscape.

(2) "Augustine" - Vienna Teng. Vienna Teng has a computer science degree from Stanford University. She is the only musician I am aware of who worked as a software engineer for Cisco before leaping into a full-time music career. That is impressive. This song, from her album Inland Territory, thoroughly captivated me this year. I love its ringing open piano octaves and the big kick drums, and the lyrics, which hint at lost illusions and the pain that can accompany fresh starts.

(1) "Be Thankful For What You've Got" - William Devaughn. Released some 35 years ago, this is a beautiful, mellow, charming R&B song that has recently become a ghetto anthem.

Though you may not drive a great big Cadillac
Gangsta whitewalls, TV antennas in the back
You may not have a car at all
But remember brothers and sisters
You can still stand tall
Just be thankful for what you got.

In July, my brother's fiancée Ana gave me a magnificent mix CD that featured a glorious 7-minute version of this song. Over the July 4th holiday, I had the CD on constant play. The simple lyrics and Curtis Mayfield-esque groove of this song made it the most delightful discovery of 2009.

- - - - -

Here are some honorable mentions. (Maybe next year I'll work up the nerve to include the high-test pop/R&B/rap songs in the numbered list.)

"Bad Romance" - Lady Gaga. I have to mention this song here. Everyone is probably sick of hearing about Lady Gaga, but after really listening to this song, I started to appreciate the hype. There's something genuinely affecting about this song (not to mention the crazily brilliant video). Sure, it can be seen as song about domination and sadomasochism. In another sense, there's something haunting about the lyrics — is it profoundly authentic to tell a fresh new lover that I want "your love," "your ugly," "your disease"...? Isn't that what you end up getting, anyway?

"Daniel" - Bat for Lashes. The chord structure is lifted straight from Fleetwood Mac's "Rhiannon," but what a catchy number.

"Forever" - Chris Brown. Yes, I was one of hundreds of ignorant individuals who first discovered the song through the infamous wedding march video. So infectious!

"Renegade" - Kings of Convenience. It's not the first time that Kings of Convenience has been mentioned in this year-end list. This song had me at the first line, "I'm letting go / to see if you hang on to me...." The rest of the album, Declaration of Dependence, is all hushed harmonies and beautifully transparent guitar. If you've been desperately searching for Norway's answer to Simon & Garfunkel, search no more.

- - - - -

You know what's next - I hope you'll leave a comment telling me about the music you loved in 2009.

Slow cooker chicken tortilla soup

2009-12-09T13:25:00.002-05:00

This week I was hit with the most diabolical of all wintertime cravings: one for spicy, soothing chicken tortilla soup.

It came out of nowhere, and in the words of Spoon, it hit me like a tom.

Here is where I must confess one of the great things about being an able-bodied grown-up. When the craving for chicken tortilla soup hits you, you can go out and just get yourself some chicken tortilla soup.

Better yet, you can make your own.

I did a quick recipe search and found this recipe for slow-cooker version. God bless Allrecipes.

It's extraordinarily simple, and highly delicious. If you don't want to cook your own chicken, you can pick up cooked chicken from the deli. The most you'll be responsible for, besides opening a few cans, is chopping up an onion and a few cloves of garlic.

This soup doesn't photograph all that spectacularly, as I found out moments ago, but what it lacks in photogenic pizazz it makes up for in flavor. (I'm slurping it down even now. I should know.)

Ingredients

1 pound shredded, cooked chicken
1 (15 ounce) can whole peeled tomatoes, mashed
1 (10 ounce) can enchilada sauce
1 medium onion, chopped
1 (4 ounce) can chopped green chile peppers
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups water
1 (14.5 ounce) can chicken broth
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 bay leaf
1 (10 ounce) package frozen corn
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro
7 corn tortillas
vegetable oil

Directions

Place chicken, tomatoes, enchilada sauce, onion, green chiles, and garlic into a slow cooker. Pour in water and chicken broth, and season with cumin, chili powder, salt, pepper, and bay leaf. Stir in corn and cilantro. Cover, and cook on Low setting for 6 to 8 hours or on High setting for 3 to 4 hours.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C).
Lightly brush both sides of tortillas with oil. Cut tortillas into strips, then spread on a baking sheet.
Bake in preheated oven until crisp, about 10 to 15 minutes. To serve, discard bay leaf from soup. Sprinkle tortilla strips over soup.

from Blood Horses

2009-07-22T09:46:00.004-05:00

This is an excerpt from Blood Horses: Notes of a Sportswriter's Son by John Jeremiah Sullivan, a beautiful book I've been reading this spring and summer. (I read slowly, and tend to juggle multiple books at a time... )

The book is part memoir, part reportage, part history. It is a meditation on horse racing, beauty, and Sullivan's complicated relationship with his father. I read this bit last night and it shattered me. It's set on the evening of Sullivan's father's wake. I don't know if it will work as an excerpt, but I just had to post it here.

I think this writer gets the relationship between sadness and beauty better than just about anyone writing today. (Which is to say, you've been warned.)

Very late that night — It must have been early the next morning—my brother and I were in the hotel room that my grandmother had rented for those of our friends who had traveled to come [to my father's funeral]. There were clothed and sleeping bodies draped like refugees across the beds and floor. It was quiet. The two of us sat up Indian-style, facing each other with watery eyes, passing a bottle of Bourbon back and forth and whispering. We were going on about the Beach Boys, for some reason, and one of the last things I remember my brother saying before I fell back against the bed, was that in his opinion the greatest single moment in all of popular music was the complete bar of vocal silence near the beginning of "Good Vibrations," after Carl Wilson sings "I" but before he sings, "I love the colorful clothes she wears." My brother was weaving as he counted out the four empty beats on the carpet. "It's like..." he said, "it's like the whole universe is in that silence."

Then we were silent, drinking. Before it went black, my mind was already driving through the dark, with headlight vision, leaving the parking lot, taking a left onto Richmond Road, following Richmond as it turned one-way and become, without any signage to mark the change, Main Street, which I knew was deserted, the stoplights flashing yellow, then across the bridge, to where the cemeteries were, left into Calvary, curving along the paths back to a corner where two hedges met, where my father's body was already under the ground. Is it cold there, even in summer?

My brother shook his head. He said, "I can't believe Dad's dead."

Tortellini Primavera

2009-07-13T15:55:00.007-05:00

Finally. I am back. Yes. There was a lapse. My camera walked away from me, so I had to take a hiatus from photographing food. This seemed to manifest a hiatus from preparing food, oddly enough. It's as if I'm unwilling to cook a lovely meal if I can't photograph it.

But I'm back, spatula in hand, and I would like to tell you about a beautiful little main course that you will enjoy making in your own kitchen.

Tortellini Primavera is a light, easy, summery recipe that is full of the beautiful colors and subtle flavors that make summer produce such a treat. I prepared this meal with my friends Lalah and Jean last week. We served it with some white wine and Ina Garten's scrumptious pesto pea salad, and enjoyed berries with fresh whipped cream for dessert. The whole night was really quite heavenly.

First, you will want to shell a bunch of peas. I used zipper peas from the farmer's market. Truthfully, they looked so much like beans that it was hard to tell if they qualified as peas:

But there is something really satisfying about using fresh shelled peas in a summery recipe. Even if they are just beans in disguise.

Pay no attention to your friends when they complain about how much work it is to shell a pound and a half of peas! Choose to believe that they are secretly loving it.

After the peas are shelled, put them in a beautiful ceramic bowl and take them outside to be photographed:

Be sure to get a shot of Jean's bare feet in the grass:

After you're done chopping and shelling everything, the recipe comes together very quickly. A few minutes in a saucepan for the pasta, then a few minutes in a skillet for the vegetables:

Here is the recipe. I'll definitely be making this one again.

Tortellini Primavera
4 quarts water
1 (9-ounce) package fresh three-cheese tortellini, uncooked (really, you can use any kind of cute pre-made pasta — something vegetarian is best — we went with a cheese ravioletti)
1 cup vertically sliced baby carrots
1 1/2 cups fresh shelled green peas (about 1 1/2 pounds unshelled)
2 teaspoons olive oil
1/3 cup thinly sliced green onions
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 cup canned vegetable broth
2 cups quartered baby pattypan squash (you can use regular varieties of squash if you have the misfortune of not being able to find pattypan. Just cut the squash into smaller pieces)
1 cup vertically sliced baby zucchini
2 cups torn arugula
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh parsley
1 tablespoon minced fresh chives
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon black pepper

1. Bring 4 quarts water to boil in a large Dutch oven. Add pasta; cook 5 minutes. Add carrots; cook 2 minutes. Add peas; cook 30 seconds. Drain and rinse with cold water; drain well.
2. Heat oil in large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add the green onions and garlic; sauté for 2 minutes. Add pasta mixture, broth, pattypan squash, and zucchini. Bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer until thoroughly heated. Stir in arugula and remaining ingredients.

Yield: 6 servings. Source: Cooking Light.

lemon sandwich cookies

2009-04-28T08:00:00.004-05:00

This baking adventure began with a pretty new apron purchased on a whim from the World's Greatest Hardware Store:

Sure, I already had an apron waiting faithfully for me at home. A simple cotton one that had served me well for many years. But this apron wrapped its arms around me and would not let me go.

One might call it a trophy apron.

Baking is an activity I find deeply calming and deeply joyful. It's so simple, yet so mysterious. I still find it surprising that mixing a bunch of ingredients together in a bowl and applying heat to it can yield such an unbelievably delicious payoff.

I also purchased a rolling pin recently, and I wanted to make a cookie with a dough that required rolling.

So I made lemon sandwich cookies. This is a Martha Stewart recipe, laid out in typical Martha fashion. The editorial voice in these recipes is so spartan. There's minimum of direction, and a tacit understanding that you are a cook who owns multiple aprons and thus knows her way around a rolling pin. Martha would never say anything like, "If the dough tears up when you roll it, and sticks like a fiend to the rolling pin, just take a breather and let the dough warm up a little." (I wish she would.)

Once I let the dough warm up a little and tried moving the rolling pin much more slowly over the dough, the cookies came together fine. It really is a joyful thing to use cookie cutters on dough — my interior second grader leaped with glee every time I punched the fluted cutter through the dough.

Lemon Sandwich Cookies

Makes 3 dozen cookies if you're using a 1.5" cutter; less with a larger cutter.

16 tablespoons (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup confectioners' sugar
1 tablespoon finely grated lemon zest (from 1 lemon)
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups all-purpose flour (spooned and leveled), plus more for rolling
2 tablespoons granulated sugar, for sprinkling
Creamy Lemon Filling (see below)

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl using an electric mixer on high speed, beat butter, confectioners' sugar, lemon zest, and salt until combined. With mixer on low, add flour (dough will still be stiff); finish mixing with a wooden spoon.
Turn dough out onto a piece of plastic wrap, pat into a disk about 1/2 inch thick. Wrap, and chill until firm, about 1 hour (and up to 3 days).
Unwrap dough; place on a lightly floured piece of parchment or waxed paper. With a lightly floured rolling pin, roll dough about 1/8 inch thick (if dough cracks, let it warm up slightly. If dough sticks like a fiend to the rolling pin, just laugh a little and take a walk around the block).
Cut out cookies with a 1 1/2-inch round cutter (reroll scraps once, chilling of too soft). Place 1 inch apart on two baking sheets; sprinkle with granulated sugar. Bake until barely beginning to brown, 15 to 20 minutes; transfer to wire racks to cool completely.
Form sandwiches: Place about 1 teaspoon (or more!) Creamy Lemon Filling between two cookies, sugared sides facing out; squeeze gently.

- - - - - - - - -

Creamy Lemon Filling

Makes enough for about 3 dozen sandwich cookies

1 package (4 ounces) cream cheese, room temperature
1 tablespoon finely grated lemon zest (from 1 lemon)
1 to 1 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar

Directions

In a small bowl, mix cream cheese and zest until smooth. Gradually add 1 cup confectioners' sugar, mixing until smooth. Mix in remaining sugar as necessary to create a firm but spreadable filling.

— from Martha Stewart

Spring green risotto

2009-04-16T08:20:00.013-05:00

Last night Lalah and I made risotto. Risotto, of course, is another one of those Scary Food Things I've always been too intimidated to try. All that stirring! And who's to say what al dente really is? I can't be responsible for judging these things!

But we made risotto, and it turned out beautifully. I pretty much demanded that we try Ina Garten's Spring Green Risotto recipe. The seatback TVs on my long flight back to Atlanta from San Francisco last month featured the Food TV channel with Ina Garten cheerfully making this risotto. People, I hope you will never be strapped into a chair and made to watch Parmesan cheese softening luciously into tender arborio rice in a glorious closeup as you're gnawing on airplane peanuts. It's torture.

I'd been thinking about this risotto for weeks, so I was ready to get to it.

This recipe is particularly enjoyable because it introduces a number of spring vegetables to the line-up. Asparagus, peas, leeks, fennel. Risotto primavera!

Revelations:

First, as expected, risotto is a demanding but extremely pleasurable dish to make. It's not a good idea if you're really hungry, because Lord knows, it takes some time. It's a very good idea if you feel like taking your time, having a cooking experience, sipping some wine while you stir, filling your kitchen with delectable fragrances.

The overall texture and vibe of this dish was just what we wanted. It was creamy and comforting and filling and rich. You'll taste many layers of flavor in this dish. They all play beautifully together. Creamy rice, earthily sweet asparagus, savory broth, the bright blanket of lemon tying everything together.

This recipe makes a lot. Invite a crowd over for this one. A crowd that's not in a hurry.

Spring Green Risotto

1 1/2 tablespoons good olive oil
1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 cups chopped leeks, white and light green parts (2 leeks)
1 cup chopped fennel
1 1/2 cups Arborio rice
2/3 cup dry white wine
4 to 5 cups simmering chicken stock, preferably homemade
1 pound thin asparagus
10 ounces frozen peas, defrosted, or 1 1/2 cups shelled fresh peas
1 tablespoon freshly grated lemon zest (2 lemons)
* Note: This is a lot of lemon zest. Lalah and I both loved the prominence of the lemon flavor in the finished dish, but if you are not nutty about lemon, you may want to start with the zest from one lemon, taste, and work up from there. *
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice (ditto on the mention of zest above)
1/3 cup mascarpone cheese, preferably Italian
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan, plus extra for serving
3 tablespoons minced fresh chives, plus extra for serving

Directions:
Heat the olive oil and butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the leeks and fennel and saute for 5 to 7 minutes, until tender. Add the rice and stir for a minute to coat with the vegetables, oil, and butter. Add the white wine and simmer over low heat, stirring constantly, until most of the wine has been absorbed. Add the chicken stock, 2 ladles at a time, stirring almost constantly and waiting for the stock to be absorbed before adding more. This process should take 25 to 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, cut the asparagus diagonally in 1 1/2-inch lengths and discard the tough ends. Blanch in boiling salted water for 4 to 5 minutes, until al dente. Drain and cool immediately in ice water. (If using fresh peas, blanch them in boiling water for a few minutes until the starchiness is gone.)

When the risotto has been cooking for 15 minutes, drain the asparagus and add it to the risotto with the peas, lemon zest, 2 teaspoons salt, and 1 teaspoon pepper. ( * Note: 2 teaspoons of salt felt like a lot. We added one and found it to be sufficient.)

Continue cooking and adding stock, stirring almost constantly, until the rice is tender but still firm.

Whisk the lemon juice and mascarpone together in a small bowl. When the risotto is done, turn off the heat and stir in the mascarpone mixture plus the Parmesan cheese and chives. Set aside, off the heat, for a few minutes, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and serve hot with a sprinkling of chives and more Parmesan cheese.

— from Food Network's Barefoot Contessa

About eating

2009-04-12T13:12:00.003-05:00

From California last week, my friend Amy sent a postcard with a quote on it. The quote has everything to do with what I've been thinking about lately in relation to food. Also, Wendell Berry is pretty much completely right about everything, all the time. I love that guy.

"Eating with the fullest pleasure — pleasure, that is, that does not depend on ignorance — is perhaps the profoundest enactment of our connection with the world. In this pleasure we experience and celebrate our dependence and our gratitude, for we are living from mystery, from creatures we did not make and powers we cannot comprehend." — Wendell Berry

Mustard-maple salmon with hollandaise sauce

2009-04-09T08:05:00.007-05:00

Sauces are one of those "scary food things" that have long intimidated me.

When I saw a "cooking class" article in this month's Cooking Light about sauces, I felt newly inspired to get over my anxiety and try making a sauce from scratch.

Lalah and I decided to try preparing a simple piece of salmon and making a hollandaise sauce to accompany it.

Step 1 was going to Whole Foods and picking out a really beautiful piece of wild caught walleye salmon. Behold:

Step 2 was buying the ingredients for the hollandaise. Hollandaise is basically a warm, buttery version of mayonnaise. It's one of the French mother sauces. (Frankly, just the phrase "mother sauces" makes me want to attempt cooking all of them. Either that, or take a bath in them.) Hollandaise known for its rich, silky texture and its versatility.

Because the hollandaise was going to require a lot of attention, we selected an exceedingly simple recipe for the salmon, something that would require us only to place it in a glass pan and put it in the oven.

A couple of hours before dinner, I marinated the fish in dijon mustard, maple syrup, and balsamic vinegar (recipe below). That was the most complex part of the salmon preparation.

Over at Lalah's house, we rolled up our sleeves and got into the hollandiase. The timing of this meal was tricker than most meals we've prepared. Because we wanted to have the salmon coming out of the oven at the same time that the hollandaise was ready, and also at the same time that we had fresh asparagus and broccoli emerging from steam, we had to be on our toes. We adopted the phrase "gazelle-like intensity" to explain our mindset for preparing the sauce. We did a little fist-bump and then donned our aprons.

As it turns out, preparing hollandaise sauce does indeed require gazelle-like intensity. This is not the meal for a lazy cook, or for a Sunday afternoon when you just want something nourishing and simple. This is a great dinner to prepare with a two-person cooking team interested in exploring a somewhat technical meal. The preparations basically required full attention from both of us.

Having had no previous experience clarifying butter, Lalah and I worked together to make judgment calls about separating the solids from the butterfat. That was really helpful.

It was really useful to have one person focus on the sauce while someone else watched the vegetables and salmon and managed the plating. (Sorry, I just said "plating." Someone shoot me.)

Yes, we melted and whisked and clarified and blended and by the time we were done, we had something approximating hollandaise sauce. I even pulled out my grandmother's old gravy boat so we could serve it properly. It was the first time I've ever employed that particular piece of china.

Conclusion: the salmon was excellent, and made even more excellent with the addition of the sauce. The sauce itself was a little grainy and not quite as velvety as the sauce in the beautifully art-directed photo in the magazine. It would never have made it into service at a mid-level French restaurant. But it had terrific flavor, and was a delightful addition to the meal. Two thumbs up for a challenging and spirited cooking adventure.

Mustard-Maple Salmon
3 T Dijon mustard
3 T maple syrup
1 T balsamic vinegar
1/4 t salt
1/8 t freshly ground black pepper
4 (6-ounce) salmon fillets (about 1" thick)
Cooking spray

1. Combine first 5 ingredients in a large zip-top plastic bag; add salmon. Seal and marinate in refrigerator for 20 minutes.
2. Preheat oven to 400º.
3. Remove fish from bag; discard marinade. Place fish in 11 x 7 baking dish coated with cooking spray. Bake at 400º for 12 minutes, or until fish flakes easily when tested with a fork.
— adapted from Cooking Light

Hollandaise Sauce
1/2 cup unsalted butter
2 large egg yolks
2 T cold water
1 T fresh lemon juice
1/8 t salt
Additional equipment: cheesecloth

Editorial note: I'm transcribing this recipe exactly as we prepared it, and exactly as it appeared in the magazine. Some other recipes for hollandaise call for straining the melted butter through cheesecloth at the end of step 1. I think this is probably the traditional way of clarifying butter. I wish we'd had cheesecloth; it definitely would've helped us separate the butterfat from the solids. Also, some other recipes involve vinegar and peppercorns. Although this recipe worked well enough, I can see myself trying a different hollandaise recipe later.

1. Place butter in a small saucepan over medium-low heat; cook 5 minutes or until completely melted. Carefully skim solids off the top with a spoon; discard solids. Slowly pour remaining butter out of pan, leaving remaining solids in pan; discard solids.
2. Combine egg yolks and 2 T water in a small saucepan, stirring with a whisk until foamy. Place pan over medium heat, stirring constantly until mixture thickens slightly. Gradually add 1/4 c clarified butter, about 1 T at a time, stirring with a whisk until each addition is incorporated and mixture is thick. Reserve remaining clarified butter for another use.
3. Stir juice and salt into butter mixture, whisking until blended. Yield: About 2/3 c (serving size: about 1 tablespoon).
— from Cooking Light

Top 75 awesome things about Flashdance

2009-04-05T15:09:00.007-05:00

Well, this entry doesn't have much to do with cooking, but I just had to write about Flashdance after seeing it for the first time today.

I actually own a copy of this movie. It's one of about 10 DVDs I own. Yep — Howards End and Flashdance are the bookends of my DVD collection. (My ex-boyfriend gave Flashdance to me when we were together, for reasons I won't go into here.)

This DVD has been sitting on the shelf for more than two years. Today was finally the day when I thought, "Yes. Today is Flashdance day."

As you might have guessed, I was bowled away by this film and its boatload of awesome '80s movie stereotypes. Here's what I love about this movie:
- The fact that the heroine is a hard-working, cheerful, charming, model-gorgeous welder and exotic dancer
- The fact that the male counterpart is a very attractive single man with no commitment issues
- The fact that the male counterpart drives a Porsche, lives in a gigantic mansion, and is rich
- The fact that the movie is loaded with legwarmers and leotards
- The fact that it involves multiple utterly awesome montage sequences
- The fact that the filmmaker was obsessed with Jennifer Beals' ass (her butt gets almost as much time on screen as her face)
- The fact that the run-down burger shack where our heroine dances apparently sets aside 95% of its annual operating budget to provide dancers with lavish sets, lighting, props and costumes for specific dances (note: YouTube clip involves strobe lights and mime make-up. See also: the first superbly awesome exotic club song and dance, and the later superbly awesome "Man Hunt" song and dance)
- The fact that the heroine has a heart of gold and high moral standards (for example, it's not appropriate for her to date a superior, or for her friends to work at a strip club)
- The fact that choreography for the final dance involves a clever blend of ballet, Jazzercise, club dancing, gymnastics, and hardcore breakdancing
- The fact that the heroine is not classroom trained in any of these dance forms, but nonetheless delivers a flawless performance
- The fact that everything works out perfectly in the end and that the movie ends with a freeze frame. Bonjour, perfection.

So, two thumbs up for Flashdance and everything about it. Why can't life be more like this movie?

the spiritual vibrations of food

2009-04-01T20:19:00.005-05:00

I've been wondering for a while about what to do with this website.

I'm past my personal era of confessional blogging. I no longer feel inspired to bare my heart to all who visit this space. But I have enjoyed writing here a lot over the past five or six or seven years — I forget how long it's been — and I don't want to give it up.

This week I'm having an epiphany about how to use this space. Naturally, this epiphany comes with a story. (Epiphanies usually do.)

At the end of December, my good friend Lalah and I went to North Carolina for a women's retreat led by Christine Kane. We had a wonderful weekend, full of laughter and reflection and unusually delicious food. The meals at this weekend were prepared by a local chef, a lovely woman named Deva who served mostly vegetarian fare. Many of the vegetables she used for her dishes came from her own garden. Each meal was colorful, inviting, comforting, and delicious. Almost as an afterthought, I'll add that these dishes were probably pretty nutritious, too.

On the way home from the retreat, Lalah and I stopped to have lunch at the Early Girl Eatery in Asheville. We both had a post-retreat glow — we felt clear and aligned and happy. We had been fed beautiful food for three days. We had been drinking herbal tea and doing yoga. We were feeling pretty zen.

Lalah said, "I loved the food at that retreat. Everything felt totally nutritious and totally yummy at the same time."

"Yeah, it was really nice."

"I really want to learn how to cook," she said. "I've always wanted to feel more comfortable in the kitchen."

"Well, maybe you can take lessons," I said.

"Or maybe we could try cooking together," she said.

Hey. There's an idea.

Since January we've been getting together to cook. It usually happens about once a week, though we took a few weeks off in February when life got in the way. We talk beforehand about what to prepare, and we take turns buying the groceries. Dishes are often vegetarian, but when they're not, we steer toward sustainably harvested seafood or free-range poultry. We go for the good stuff.

The meals are timed carefully after the arrival of Lalah's husband home from work and their 3-year-old son's nightly bedtime routine. They are not elaborate meals, but they are consistently delicious. And the process of cooking with Lalah in this context has been, well, utterly delightful.

Here's what I really want to say in this entry:

As I've been cooking with Lalah, I've been tuning into the many layers of my relationship to food. I've become much more attuned to what I would call the spiritual vibrations of food. Does that phrase sound a little odd to you, or do you instinctively know what I mean? There's a difference between eating a plate of nachos with yellow cheese sauce, and eating a little piece of really good cheddar from the farmer's market with a sliced apple. There's a hell of a difference between eating a Smart Ones® Honey Mango Barbeque Chicken frozen entree (that's part of Weight Watcher's "Fruit Inspirations™" line, FYI), and actually preparing a piece of free-range chicken with a chutney barbeque dressing.

It's not just the nutritional differences between these options that I'm talking about — it's the way you feel as you're preparing the food, how you feel when you're eating it, and how you feel afterwards.

What I'm seeing is that my relationship to food feels like an invitation to something richer, something more sacred.

I think this is something a lot of Americans are waking up to right now. I don't think Michael Pollan's message would have had the same resonance if he'd been writing in the early '80s. But now, his words are like springs of water in the desert.

We're reaching the end of our relationship with un-reality. We're reaching the end of our relationship with fake food. Eating an Egg McMuffin doesn't really fly when we can dine on fresh berries and Greek yogurt instead.

In the coming weeks and months, I'll bring you reports from my cooking dates with Lalah. I'll give you our recipes and a summary of what we loved or didn't love about the recipe. I hope you'll read along, and comment, and even cook along with us.

I'm looking forward to this.

don't read this unless you feel like reading a really sad story

2009-02-23T11:49:00.009-05:00

I've been in an obsessive loop for the past several days about a deeply unsettling crime that happened here in Atlanta last week. I'm writing about it here in an effort to sort through it and hopefully lay it to rest.

Eugenia “Jeanne” Calle, was murdered in her condo on Tuesday morning. I don't know Calle. I never met her. She was a single white woman living on her own (that's Particularly Interesting Note #1). She was in her late 50s and had just retired after a lifetime of award-winning work in cancer research at the CDC. She had recently put her condo on the market. Her plan was to sell the unit and move in with her fiance.

On Tuesday morning, while walking through the lobby of her condo building, she overheard Shamal Thompson, a 22-year-old black male, chatting with a real estate agent about touring two condos for sale in the building. Thompson was acting as if he had an interest in buying a condo.

She popped into their conversation and said, "Don’t forget about my condo. It’s for sale, too."

Thompson expressed interest in her condo and said he would follow up with her. After he toured the two other condos, a security guard called Calle and said that Thompson was in the lobby, ready to look at her unit.

“Would you like for me to escort him up?” the guard asked Calle.

“No, it’ll be fine,” Calle responded. “I don’t want him to think that we don’t trust him." (That's Particularly Interesting Note #2).

Of course, things went badly. Thompson murdered Calle (it's not clear exactly how, but she died of blunt force trauma to the head). After he killed her, he stole several credit cards and valuables, and slipped the diamond ring off her finger. Then he moved her body into the walk-in pantry, took her electronic access swipe card for the building, and closed the door to the pantry.

He left the building and then went directly to a birthday party in Atlanta for a girl he had a crush on. He presented the birthday girl a bottle of very expensive champagne and a diamond ring. He posed for many pictures at the party. Fellow party-goers described him as "fun" and "charming."

- - - - - -

Particularly Interesting Note #3: Thompson came back to the condo building the next night. He arrived with a couple of friends. Maybe he was going to steal more property. Did he think that no one cared enough about this woman to miss her? Did he think he now owned the place since he had murdered Calle?

Calle's fiance had discovered her body the night before. Of course he had alerted police immediately. So law enforcement was all over the building. Security guards became suspicious of Thompson's attempt to enter the building and turned him away. A security guard took down the license plate of his vehicle and called police. He was arrested shortly after and was immediately charged with the murder.

I guess that's the good part of this story. This person is now behind bars.

- - - - - -

Perhaps I shouldn't be thinking about this story. Perhaps I should just try to forget about it and go read Happy News or something. Really, I wish I had never read this story. I just can't shake the particular awfulness it. Particularly Interesting Note #4 is that the condo building in which this poor woman lived across the street from one of my client offices where I have spent a lot of time in the past few years. This story feels very local and very personal.

- - - - - -

On Thursday afternoon I was at my apartment alone. In an idle moment, I looked absently out window to the carport behind the building. I spotted a young black man there, smoking a cigarette and walking slowly, gazing up at the buildling.

Odd behavior. I know all of the residents of the building. He was not a resident. No one ever goes out behind the building unless they're a resident walking to or from their car. A non-resident loitering in the parking lot with no apparent reason is suspicious.

I watched him carefully. And I thought of my burglary in December 2007. In the grand scheme of things, it was a trifling little burglary, but at the time, it was very upsetting and sickening. The police never solved the crime.

I absolutely hate the concept of assuming culpability to someone I do not know. I've read Malcolm Gladwell. I'm familiar with the story of Amadou Diallo. But my spider sense said, "Hey! I wonder if that's the guy who broke into my apartment!"

The young man lingered. No one else was around. He gazed appreciatively at the building, at the ground, at the cars parked in the carport. My pulse was pounding at this point. He strolled on, and I lost sight of him as he rounded the far corner of the building.

This was even more suspicious behavior. Not even the landlord visits that side of the building. It's an very narrow little alley where rain-soaked leaves gather, and squirrels hide nuts.

I put on my shoes, picked up my phone and keys, and ran outside. I didn't know what I was going to do. I just knew I had to see what this person was doing. I considered calling the police. The mere thought felt uncomfortable. I kept thinking, I haven't seen this person do anything wrong. I am being a stereotypical hysterical white woman.

I burst out of the building and ran down the steps to the street. There was no trace of the young man. I started walking up the block, growing both more frightened and more angry by the second. A few steps into my journey, I heard a rustling of leaves and -- presto! There he was! He emerged from the narrow alley beside the building, the alley where people never go. He glanced at me and then down at the ground. I stared right at him. He ignored me and strolled casually by. (It is interesting to me how staring directly at someone in this context feels like an act of confrontation and violence. I was staring at him, flinching, scared of what it meant to stare at him! It was very hard to stare at him.)

He just shuffled away. I stood there, breathing hard, clutching my keys. Finally, after he was out of earshot, I said quietly, "I have my eye on you!"

- - - - - -

I probably should have called the police. It seems fairly obvious that the guy was casing the joint. Why else would he be casually strolling around in a carport, walking down a gutter. But I didn't. I felt guilty for making assumptions. Me and my white guilt. Suspicious, snoopy white woman asks police to pester poor black high school kid! Let the healing begin!

- - - - - -

I just feel so sorry for Calle. I feel so sorry that this sequence of events is a possibility in this world. I'm all for looking at the bright side of things, and I'm all for assuming the best about people, including total strangers. But it is deeply distressing that she made a point to trust this young man and was punished so brutally for it.

That is all. I never met Calle, and I never will. And realistically speaking, two weeks from now, I will probably have forgotten that this horrible, horrible thing happened. But right now, it feels profoundly upsetting, and I don't know what to do about it.

My top songs of 2008

2009-01-02T18:07:00.006-05:00

Once again, it's time for my review of the year in music. Admittedly, my list of music favorites each year is terribly lopsided and self-interested, since it's based on my experience of music over the past 12 months, and not necessarily the hottest releases from the hottest bands. Look elsewhere for the Super-Definitive List of the Greatest New Music of 2008 (Paste has a pretty good list – though I think they have a weird ability to consistently miss the #1 album of the year).

5. "Sex on Fire" – Kings of Leon. Weirdest title of the year; most satisfying straight-up rock delivery. (Listen for the fill at 2:23 and make rock fingers.) I love the fact this song seemed to be written in a key that is slightly higher than the vocalist can comfortably handle; listening to him reach is glorious.

4. "Blue Ridge Mountains" – Fleet Foxes. Like everyone out there with a pair of fully functional ears and an affection for three-part harmony, I loved the entire Fleet Foxes album. Part of what makes this group of musicians so exciting is their youth (the members ages are 22, 22, 27, 31, and 27). When I listen to them, I hear years of beautiful future songs glimmering off in the distance. Fleet Foxes managed to shoplift everything I like about My Morning Jacket (shimmering harmonies, transparent arrangements) and left behind all the stuff I don't like (the occasional hairband screechiness). I hope these guys stay together for a long time.

3. "Ramblin' (Wo)Man" – Cat Power. I always feel like a cornball including a cover on my list of the year's top songs, but I think Cat Power belongs on this list. Cat Power's Jukebox confirmed Chan Marshall's special ability to add her own beautiful character to a song. Her aching vocals coupled with the echo-chamber production made this a huge favorite for me.

2. "Little Person" – written by Jon Brion, as performed by Deanna Storey. Hated the movie (Synecdoche, N.Y.). Adored the soundtrack. Jon Brion does diminished chords better than anyone writing music today. This song is classic Brion soundtrack gorgeousness. A simple vocal, a gentle piano accompaniment, a lyric about longing and loneliness. It doesn't get much better than this.

1. "A Change Is Gonna Come" – Sam Cooke. This is the first time I've included a song from the 1960s in my year's top discoveries. In some ways, it is an odd one to include in the top spot. Of course, I knew this song before 2008. But this year, I heard this song in a totally different way. The morning after Barack Obama won the presidential election, I turned this song up to a good volume, sat down and took a few deep breaths. I've never cared about a presidential election the way I cared about the election this past fall. I am thrilled with Obama's victory and with the way that he has captured the imagination of so many people in this country and around the world. I think 2008 was Obama's year. (2009 and 2010 may be his years, as well.) I can't wait for him to become president of my country.

Honorable Mentions:
"Days Like This" and "Greatest Story" – Kim Taylor
"Goodnight, California" – Kathleen Edwards
"I Will Possess Your Heart" – Death Cab for Cutie. Those drums! That bass! That piano! It goes on and on! I love it!
"Burn You Up, Burn You Down" – Peter Gabriel, Billy Cobham, et al. (from the Big Blue Ball collection)
"For Emma" – Bon Iver
"Lost Coastlines" – Okkervil River. This became my "11-pm-and-still-working-and-got-3-more-hours-of-work-to-do" failproof fire-me-up song.
"Oh No" – KaiserCartel. Discovered on the utterly fantastic Chirp mix, which you should probably know about.

Talk back to me! What were your favorite songs of the year?

Late bloomers

2008-11-22T14:59:00.003-05:00

I've been thinking a lot over the past few weeks about an article from Malcolm Gladwell that appeared in the New Yorker last month. "Late Bloomers" is the title of the article.

I've liked Gladwell for a while, but this article raised my appreciation for his writing to new level. I'm very thankful for this article.

In the article, he compares "child prodigies" to "late bloomers." He illuminates the difference between Picasso (who began producing powerful work in his 20s) and Cezanne (who plugged away for decades and produced his best work at the end of his life).

Naturally, I'm reading something of my own situation into this article. Because I've been panicking just a little lately. I'm in my mid-30s! I should have accomplished more by now! I'm sunk! It's all downhill from here! (Et cetera, ad nauseam.)

One of the bits from the article that I appreciated most was this quote from economist David Galenson, discussing the "slow burn" approach to creativity from the Cezannes of the world:

The imprecision of their goals means that these artists rarely feel they have succeeded, and their careers are consequently often dominated by the pursuit of a single objective. These artists repeat themselves, painting the same subject many times, and gradually changing its treatment in an experimental process of trial and error. Each work leads to the next, and none is generally privileged over others, so experimental painters rarely make specific preparatory sketches or plans for a painting. They consider the production of a painting as a process of searching, in which they aim to discover the image in the course of making it; they typically believe that learning is a more important goal than making finished paintings. Experimental artists build their skills gradually over the course of their careers, improving their work slowly over long periods. These artists are perfectionists and are typically plagued by frustration at their inability to achieve their goal.

Boy, does that resonate. The quote talks about frustration, but I was so heartened to read it: Maybe there's hope for me! Maybe there are still good photos in my future! Maybe it's OK that I feel stalked, haunted, hunted by work still begging to be made.

I have begun seeing my therapist again with some regularity. She helped me through my divorce, and after that, I gradually tapered off my visits. But lately it seems like it's time to get back into a conversation. Last time I saw her, we started talking about photography again, for the thousandth time, about how frequently I dream about photography, about how I "don't know what I'm doing with it," but how I feel deeply compelled to keep working at it. Every time I choose not to follow it or engage with it, it feels like a self-inflicted wound. It feels like a big old lie.

She said, "I'm glad you're bringing this up now. I think you should bring some of your work in with you next time, and we'll talk about it." She is an artist herself, and someone I admire hugely. This feels like it could be an interesting conversation.

So, here I am, Saturday afternoon, ordering some prints for our session coming up this week. I have no idea what will come of these sessions, but it feels so good to open up the conversation about photography in a place that is totally safe. I'm taking prints of Amy with me (above). The photos I most recently shot were of her (see also this photo and this pairing). She is an inspiration and a favorite model. These photos feel like a good place to start.

why I find corporate America so annoying

2008-11-20T08:25:00.004-05:00

Though I am mostly out on my own lately, I still freelance occasionally for a major corporate client. It's good money, and it helps fill in the gaps in my freelance work flow. So I'm grateful. Of course, that one bit of corporate freelancing still comes with a lot of stupidity. Here's the first sentence I came across in my inbox this morning:

"We talked last week about the importance of actively engaging around the Value Campaigns that are being rolled out in our local market, and providing impactful "on-the-ground" support to both our GEP's and our local Campaign Champions in ensuring that we are successfully executing against both identified and logical additions to the target lists."

With language like that, it's no wonder I wanted to leave an environment like this...

I am thinking about prayer

2008-11-11T18:19:00.006-05:00

Tonight I am thinking about prayer. I miss it. I want it back.

I somehow gave prayer up around the time of my divorce in 2005. (My friend Amy wrote a perfectly wonderful first sentence in a short story years ago. It says something like, "I quit praying a few years ago, around the same time I quit smoking, and for the same reasons." I've botched the line dreadfully, but I can't find a record of the real thing.)

When I quit praying, back in 2005, it was hard at first. I kept reaching for it, like Amy's cigarette. I felt frustrated by my own spiritual confusion. I wanted desperately to have everything figured out. I believed prayer would work best if I had broad, open lines between me and the Deity, whatever his/her name was. It would be best if I knew my place and worked forward from there. But I didn't know what to call God. I got hung up from the get-go. Praying is tough when you literally can't get past the first word.

Last week I came across this bit of a Rumi poem. I feel like it was written for me:

If you cannot pray sincerely, offer your dry, hypocritical,
agnostic prayer; for God in His mercy accepts bad coin.

It doesn't matter if we have it all figured out, or if we're totally confused. It still counts.

My mother asked me nervously last week, after the election was over, after my father was out of earshot, if I considered myself a Republican or a Democrat. I didn't give her a straight answer; I wasn't in the mood to break her heart with my liberal politics. Later I realized her question was probably about my faith — she wanted to know if her daughter is still Christian, if her daughter still shares her values, if her daughter still believes in God.

I still don't know what I believe. I'm really not interested in studying different understandings of the divine and figuring out resonates most with me.

But I think prayer is a worthy pursuit. I think finding a way to feel connected to something larger than ourselves is a worthy pursuit.

People need prayer. They deserve prayer. Maybe prayer is one of the best gifts I have to offer people who are in a lot of pain. So tonight I am praying for my friend S. who is working hard to get her life back after suffering from depression for years. I'm praying for J.'s mother, who is in the hospital again with an unexplained illness. I'm praying for D., a woman I've never met, whose young son died unexpectedly this week. I'm praying for J., who is stretched thin with the demands of motherhood, who needs a really good night of sleep.

Ultimately this is about connection with a greater, older, deeper wisdom. Mary Oliver says it better than I ever could:

It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

thank you, ray

2008-10-19T09:45:00.004-05:00

Through a few lucky coincidences, I got to see Ray Lamontagne perform last night at the Tabernacle here in Atlanta.

I like this guy. (The passionate screams of "I love you, Ray!" coming from many women in the crowd last night confirmed that I am in good company.)

I sat up and took notice of Ray when I first heard the single "Trouble" on the radio in 2004. Later, attempting to stalk him online, I read a little about his start in the music industry. I read that he had been working a terrible job at a shoe factory when he heard a Stephen Stills song on the radio ("Treetop Flyer"). The experience moved him so deeply that shortly after, he decided to leave the shoe factory and pursue making music full time.

Stories like that always kill me. Stories of someone having a soul-changing experience with art and then deciding to quit the [ paint factory / shoe factory / soul-deadening corporate job ] to explore their own art. Such romantic stories!

Last night was a real treat. Somehow, Ray's voice is even more raspy in real life than it is on his recordings. He spoke very little, but he and his band delivered a tight show with tons of heart. The Tabernacle, an enormous, loud room filled with an energetic, beery crowd, was brought to a reverent hush as he played some of his quiet numbers.

From my seat in the balcony, I got to hear some of his lyrics as if for the first time. That was a real treat. I love this verse from his song "Empty" for the simplicity and richness of the images it presents:

Lay your blouse across the chair
Let fall the flowers from your hair
And kiss me with that country mouth so plain

Outside the rain is tapping on the leaves
To me it sounds like they're applauding us
The quiet love we've made

I went home feeling newly grateful for artists with the courage to change their lives in honor of their gift. Thank you, Ray, for making music.

happy stories

2008-08-04T15:49:00.004-05:00

People, I'm here with a plea.

Give me some good news.

This can be good news about your kitten finally learning to tinkle in the litter box. This can be good news about the use of clean energy in the production of construction materials in the Midwest. This can be good news about how you've learned to talk to a difficult person with kindness. I'm up for anything.

Lately it's seems like it's been all bad news and sadness around here. I'm ready to hear some other voices. Leave a comment with some good news if you feel so inclined. Thanks.

my top 10 recommendations for life as a free agent

2008-07-28T14:28:00.008-05:00

"Free agent" is writer Daniel Pink's phrase for the 25 million Americans out there who are self-employed, temporary workers or independent contractors ("people who move from project to project and who work on their own, sometimes for months, sometimes for days"). I downloaded Pink's Free Agent Nation from Audible.com last week; I really like the way he thinks.

As I've been listening to Daniel Pink, a couple of friends have recently expressed interest in joining the ranks of the free agent. They're ready to leave the comfort and confines of the corporate world and go solo.

Listening to their reflections on their work lives, I started thinking about what I've learned since I began freelancing full-time. Sure, I still feel like an uneducated bumpkin when it comes to the finer points of self-employment, but I think I have learned a few things. So here is an unsolicited entry with advice for anyone leaving their 9-to-5 and going solo for the first time.

(1) Have a dedicated work space. This is big. It doesn't matter if you're an event planner, a writer, a quiltmaker, a code slinger, or a therapist. Set aside a physical space in which to practice your art. I believe that we're all more focused — and profitable — when we work in spaces that work with us. Also, having a dedicated physical space invites you to set up mental boundaries around the work. I know that when I'm sitting in that chair at my desk, it's time to work. And when I step away from the desk, the day's labors are done.

(2) Spend money on the important stuff. When you're just getting started, it's kind of tempting to outfit your space with completely new stuff. New computer! New filing cabinets! New trash cans! Most purchases are not that critical. For me, the most important physical acquisitions to make are: (1) a high quality, comfy, supportive desk chair; (2) a functional backup system; and (3) critical self-promotional items for your business. For many folks, this translates as a website and business cards.

(3) Give yourself a cash cushion. I've been freelancing for a few years now, and in that time, I've become intimately acquainted with the ebb and flow of my income throughout the year. The flow of money has actually become fairly predictable! But when you're getting started, nothing is predictable. Every little bump in the road feels like it might toss you right out of the wagon. The first year I went freelance, money came in pretty nicely for the first half of the year. Then it really dried up in the second half of the year. (In August of that year, my grand total in billings was $300. That was not a good month.) Your admission into the ranks of free agency will be much smoother if you start with a little cushion of savings for those slow months. Now I know to anticipate that the second half of the year is going to be slower than the first half. I make a point to say "yes" to my clients more frequently in the first half of the year, and I plan my vacations and personal projects for the second half of the year. As a matter of fact, I've already booked a spot at a women's retreat in December. It's also paid for already — so I don't have to worry about scraping together extra billings late in the year.

(4) Surround yourself with experts. I'll be honest — what I know about tax liability could easily fit on the inside of a matchbook. Dealing with the IRS puts me in my unhappy place very quickly. However, I have a smart, funny accountant who helps me make sense of the IRS. I pay her for her expertise, and it's worth every penny. Consider the value of a long-term relationship with an accountant, lawyer, web development genius, or other expert.

(5) Mine your longstanding relationships. One source of steady income for me has been past employers. In fact, one of my main clients today is the creative director I worked for in my very first job out of college. He's now growing his own small business, just like I am. As you get started, spread the word to past employers about what you're doing. If you have good relationships with past employers, and you still enjoy the work they produce, there's no reason you can't come alongside again. The implied subtext of this recommendation is, of course, "Never burn your bridges."

(6) Diversify your income. Don't be afraid of part-time jobs. They can be wonderful ways to invite some steady income and predictability into the mix. Having a little flow of regular money can also be very psychologically comforting. I used to be weirdly offended by the thought of part-time work — I felt like I was somehow failing if I didn't have a full load of client hours every week. Now I think that's just silly. A few lucky free agents will hang their shingle on Day 1 and immediately fill up their calendar with billable work, but I think of that as exceptional.

(7) Take breaks. One of the joys of working from home is finding little windows of time for yourself during the day. I love to step away from the computer and walk around with my camera in the middle of the day. I spend 20 minutes shooting this or that, and then get back to work. It clears my head and sets me up for a productive afternoon.

(8) Consider your tax status. Do you plan on being a free agent for more than just a couple of months? It might be more profitable for you to incorporate your business. The money you save in taxes is probably worth the trouble you'll go through to file articles of incorporation.

(9) Plan for vacation. Frankly, I work harder as a freelancer than I ever did as a salaried worker. If I deserved decent vacations when I was a cubicle warrior, I deserve them now. Plus, who wants to be that guy who doesn't know how to not work for a few days?

(10) Find a rabbi. Find someone who's a little further down the road than you are. Someone who talks about the challenges of business in a language that you can understand. (Personally, I love singer/songwriter/creativity consultant Christine Kane.) Buy their books, read their blogs, and reflect on what they have to say. It's OK to have multiple rabbis. I have a whole folder of bookmarks of writers who support the entrepreneurship and the free agency model in their thinking (Escape from Cubicle Nation is another favorite.)

If you have any recommendations or reflections about life as a free agent, I'd love to hear them.

uncollected thoughts

2008-06-08T19:59:00.004-05:00

Greetings from a muggy Sunday night in Atlanta. I just logged onto Blogger to see if I could remember my password, remember how to post. I feel like I've been in a creative drought lately. I'm ready to come out of it. Is that something one can do simply by intending it? Well, I'm here, and I'm trying.

I'm not here to write about anything in particular, just bits and pieces floating through my brain. Welcome to the blotter.

(1) I went to a funeral on Saturday for a young man I'd never met. Alex was the 22-year-old son of a woman I know through my contradance community. Alex's mother, Linda, is a petite Southern firecracker of a woman. Until Saturday, I don't think I had ever not seen her smiling. But the funeral was crushing. After a long struggle with addiction, Alex died of a drug overdose. I gather that his death was quite unexpected. He'd been in and out of recovery programs; I suppose he seemed to be making progress. And then he was gone. Linda sobbed and sobbed on Saturday. I didn't think I'd cry at the funeral, but I did, just because I hated to see Linda so sad. A mother should never have to bury a son.

(2) In a strange way, I feel oddly excited about the increase in the cost of gas. Yes, that sounds kind of sick. But being a good Socialist-hearted American, I find it interesting that we are finally starting to encounter some checks in our extravagant waste of fossil fuels. Wendell Berry wrote a splendid article in the May issue of Harper's that gets right to the issue, noting the psychological shifts that are accompanying the end of cheap oil:

…That human limitlessness is a fantasy means, obviously, that its life expectancy is limited. There is now a growing perception, and not just among a few experts, that we are entering a time of inescapable limits. We are not likely to be granted another world to plunder in compensation for our pillage of this one. Nor are we likely to believe much longer in our ability to outsmart, by means of science and technology, our economic stupidity. The hope that we can cure the ills of industrialism by the homeopathy of more technology seems at last to be losing status. We are, in short, coming under pressure to understand ourselves as limited creatures in a limited world.

I wonder sometimes what it would be like for American filling stations to sell gas at $10/gallon, like they already do in some parts of Europe. If we couldn't drive everywhere, would not our lives become significantly simpler, smaller and quieter? Yes, $10/gallon gas would necessitate some major life changes and some major inconveniences for most working Americans. But I think many of those shifts would be incredibly healthy for us in the long run.

(3) I've been working way too much lately. The financial freedom is nice. The disconnect I feel from my artistic life is not so great. I don't like who I become when I work too much. I become this machine, a hyper-productive, stressed, anxious, furious footsoldier. I continue to seek balance in this area. I miss taking photos a lot.

(4) I'm continuing to enjoy getting to know a couple of women neighbors in my apartment building. We went to Birdi's a couple of weeks ago and I had a "faketini" called the Christini Milkshake. $8.75 for vanilla vodka, white creme de cacao, Kahlua, and cream. I don't really care for elaborate drinks, but this thing was seriously delicious. I've been thinking about that drink for two weeks now. I'll try to steer the group back there and take photos next time.

(5) My older brother is spending the summer in Oregon and I miss him.

(6) I'm getting my hair cut on Tuesday and I can't wait. I haven't had it cut since March and I'm looking especially pitiful. I'm going back to the woman who did this to me — but this time we're going to have a Come To Jesus conversation before she picks up the scissors.

Thanks for reading this far. It's good to be back. Hopefully it won't be three months before I post here again.

Rivers and Tides

2008-04-01T08:45:00.002-05:00

[cross-posted on my Gaia site]

Last Christmas, my friend Kathy gave me a copy of the documentary Rivers and Tides, about the work of Scottish environmental artist Andy Goldsworthy. I'm a little embarrassed about how long it took me to get around to watching it. I'm so glad I finally did.

At first blush, this documentary is 90 minutes of footage of a man playing with sticks, snow and rocks. Beneath the surface, this is a very compelling and beautiful story of a man who has found his life's work making beautiful sculptures from the elements. His work is designed to be ephemeral -- he'll spend a day or two or three developing a piece of art, only to see it melt, thaw or be carried out with the tide.

His work offers a window into the transcendent in nature and illustrates the extreme fragility of the world around us.

Something about this documentary touched some pretty deep chords in me. After sitting down somewhat skeptically and watching the documentary with just one eye over the first ten or fifteen minutes, I got completely drawn in. There is so much that I admire about what this man is doing. I rewound certain parts and watched them again and again. I got out the second DVD and watched a bunch of the additional footage, the kind that certifies your standing as a bona fide fan. And I had to stop halfway into the video and get out my journal and write:

"Here's a guy who is basically doing pure art. He's working in deep connection to a landscape and he seems to be working for no particular audience. The elements are so pure. Water, sun, earth. He is doing it to achieve a greater understanding of the transience of life. It's not about scoring xyz gallery or spinning his grant application in the right way with the right phrases. It is about pleasure, learning and beauty."

Over the past couple of years I have noticed the increasing volume of drumbeats in my head. The drumbeats calling me to The Great Work. This Goldsworthy video was another wakeup call.

I'm not even sure what I mean by The Great Work, and I feel more than a bit foolish talking about it here. But the idea isn't going away, so it's probably time to try to poke at it some more.

What it's not:
This is not about spraypainting my name ("Class of '92!!!!") on the caves of Lascaux. This is not some Salieri-esque dream of immortality. I don't wish to be famous or rich. I don't care about making some mark on the artistic world that will never fade away.

What it is:
It's a desire to create something larger and more honest and more direct. It's a desire to bring more truth to the table. It's what Mike Scott was getting at when he wrote a song called "The Big Music" for The Waterboys 20 years ago:

I have heard the big music
And I'll never be the same
Something so pure
just called my name

Why fill your life with hundreds of your dumb snapshots when you can take three or four or just one really good photo. I think that we have the opportunity to speak more truth, we should.

(For me, "truth" is still a word that has a lot of sticky Christian tentacles attached to it. Certain Christian groups talk about the world's "truth" and about Jesus's "Truth," and about how the only enduring Truth is that found in Jesus Christ. I don't believe that anymore, and I'm trying to reclaim the concept from the church. Truth is turning out to be something much more beautiful and powerful and startling and life-giving than I was ever able to see before.)

In all of its breathlessness and recklessness, Annie Dillard's Living With Weasels grabbed me by the scruff of my neck about fifteen years ago and it still hasn't let go:

"We could, you know. We can live any way we want. People take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience--even of silence--by choice. The thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse. This is yielding, not fighting. A weasel doesn't 'attack' anything; a weasel lives as he's meant to, yielding at every moment to the perfect freedom of single necessity.

"I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you. Then even death, where you're going no matter how you live, cannot you part. Seize it and let it seize you up aloft even, till your eyes burn out and drop; let your musky flesh fall off in shreds, and let your very bones unhinge and scatter, loosened over fields, over fields and woods, lightly, thoughtless, from any height at all, from as high as eagles."

it's time for music!

2007-12-20T18:22:00.000-05:00

It's that time you've all been waiting for — time for my favorite songs of the year. Yessss!

Yeah, there's a lot of other stuff I could write about in this space, but I am working hard to put the break-in behind me and move forward. To be honest, I am finding it upsetting to think any more about the break-in than I already have.

So I am here to share some delicious songs with you. I hope you enjoy.

(6) "Sanssouci" — Rufus Wainwright. Lord knows how I love this man. 2007 saw the release of Rufus' decadent Release the Stars, an dazzling album with the same lavish production that characterized his splendid Want One album and the cryptic Want Two. "Sanssouci" is probably my favorite song from the album, a playful little number about love and longing and boys in hotels. The song features a charming flute part, a sort of trilly, lacy little flute line that makes you feel like dancing around in a tutu. Over the summer I was rewarded with the sight of seeing a big muscular man wearing pin-striped circus pants playing that flute part at Rufus' Atlanta concert. That was a good day.

One of my favorite lines in the song is almost a throwaway, a casual line in which Rufus sings I'm tired of writing elegies to boredom. When this song came across my radar in the spring, that line felt like a strange revelation, a clue on the path. I took it as encouragement to broaden my horizons, to jump into something unexpected and scary. As silly as it sounds, I felt an implicit endorsement from Rufus when I quit my horrible soul-eating job at the Very Large Multinational Corporation a few months after discovering this song.

(5) "Flightless Bird, American Mouth" — Iron & Wine. I've been following Sam Beam since the days of The Creek Drank the Cradle, and I was happy to welcome this album to the fold this year. "Flightless Bird" is a beautiful, hymn-like waltz that closes The Shepherd's Dog. This song captures all that I love about Iron & Wine. The images of simple purity in Beam's music suggest a transcendent beauty that always waits just beyond our awareness.

(4) "The Part Where You Let Go" — Hem. I'm growing terribly predictable by adding a Hem selection to my top songs list each winter, but I can't help it. They're one of my favorite bands and one of the groups I turn to most frequently when seeking solace. They're like comfort food, except without all the guilt and calories. This song found me in June when I was leaving the stability of that soul-eating but lucrative day job and entering unknown territory. There were a number of occasions over the summer when the chorus reduced me to a quivering pile of tears.

(3) "Miracle of Five" — Eleni Mandell. NPR's delightful Song of the Day feature brought Eleni Mandell to my attention for the first time this spring. Her entire Miracle of Five album is full of sweet, folky songs like this one, with easygoing guitars and some sleepy saxophones. This is a very pleasing album.

(2) "Either Way" — Wilco.

Maybe the sun will shine today.

The clouds will blow away.

Maybe I won't feel so afraid.

I will try to understand

Either way.

The childlike simplicity of these lines that open Wilco's album Sky Blue Sky took my breath away when I first heard them. The clarity and courage in those lines becomes even more significant when you realize that the person who wrote them, Jeff Tweedy, suffers from major depressive disorder and panic attacks. The lines seem like the best kind of therapy, a promise to just accept each day with open hands. Perhaps it was the knowledge of Jeff Tweedy's ongoing struggles with depression that led me to somehow link these lines to my thoughts about Bob, my friend who killed himself in August. I think this song was borne from deep vulnerability, and that's what I like best about it.

(1) "Australia" — The Shins. I loved all of The Shins' Wincing the Night Away album, but this song especially. The joy and abandon of this song buoyed my spirits throughout the year. It's been years since I came across a song this singable. The entire first half of this Wincing album is about as close to genius as contemporary pop music gets.

Honorable mentions:

- "The Storm" — José Gonzalez (this was a Friday Night Lights soundtrack favorite — thanks to the producers of FNL for their fantastic taste in music)

- "What Is a Soul?" — M. Ward

- "Is There a Ghost" — Band of Horses. I bought Cease to Begin this month after seeing that the album made it into the top 10 of Paste magazine's Top Albums of 2007. The album feels like what would happen if The Ocean Blue and My Morning Jacket got together and had a big fight and then decided to be friends. Melodic, bouncy rock and some really lovely harmonies.

- "Goes Around" — Rockfour

- "The Story" — Brandi Carlisle. The way Brandi's voice cracks at the climax of this song never fails to give me shivers.

Well, that's my story. Let's hear what you've been listening to for the past twelve months.

amusing

2007-11-28T13:14:00.000-05:00

I took my car in to the mechanic today so he could look at some things. My check engine light was on, and it had been a while since I'd had the car serviced.

I love my mechanic. I've been seeing Rick for years. If he told me that he would need to charge me $5,000 to service my differential, I'd probably believe him and write him a check, even though I don't really know what a differential is or what it does.

This morning, when I dropped off the car, I asked him to look up the information on my car and tell me when I should plan to change the timing belt. The timing belt is a little rubber loop that is helps the valves in the engine fire at the proper times. The part itself isn't that expensive, but the timing belt generally lives in a terribly inaccessible place in the engine, so when you replace the timing belt, it ends up costing a ton of money, because the mechanic has to basically pull the entire engine out to get to it. I have to plan a few months out with the timing belt, because I can be confident that it's going to cost about $1,000 to change it.

Rick called me this morning. "Well, I've got some good news and some bad news." (This is how most of my conversations with Rick begin.)

I asked for the bad news. It was pretty bad: the car needs some obscure but important oxygen sensor unit. I have no idea what this part does, but the part costs about $600. Crap.

Then I asked for the good news.

"I looked up the information on your car to find out when they suggest you change your timing belt," he said. "I found out that your car does not have a timing belt. So you will never need to replace it."

"You're kidding!" I almost shouted into the phone. I was thrilled.

Then I stopped, and laughed, because I am pretty sure this means I've reached adulthood. The thought of not having to eventually pay for this car repair brings me to the same level of happiness that I have when Rufus Wainwright gives a concert, or when I get together for dinner with good friends.

Adulthood is amusing.

the gratitude list

2007-11-22T19:53:00.000-05:00

Back at home after enjoying Thanksgiving dinner with my family in the Atlanta suburbs. It was a wonderful meal, with both my brothers attending. This year we were also joined by my boyfriend, Rob, and my brother's girlfriend, Ana, who made a couple of scrumptious side dishes for our feast.

It was a really good day.

Things I have loved or appreciated recently:

- The way Ana's entire face lights up when she is talking about food she loves. She gestures with her hands, her eyes widen, and you feel your own pulse quicken at the thought of potentially tasting the food she's describing.
- The chance to enjoy very good food with Ana and Scott... they are discriminating food-lovers with terrific taste in food. Dining out with them really tops my list of yummy and fun things to do. (Last night I took them to Feast and they really enjoyed it.)
- The way my parents have made such an effort to welcome Rob and Ana into their lives. My parents have three children. Two of those children chose partners and married, and both of those marriages ended. Clearly, this was not part of what they wanted for us. But they are rolling with it and finding a way to enjoy "Plan B."
- Being able to make a living doing things that I really like.
- Being able to take photos every day of things that interest me.
- Actually knowing what to do with the photos once I have taken them (really enjoying getting to know Lightroom right now).
- A growing sense of spaciousness and permission to explore my creative dreams. That sounds really corny, doesn't it? But it's true. I am really grateful for the opportunity to develop my creative sensibilities.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.