8 march

"We are all filled with a longing for the wild. There are few culturally sanctioned antidotes for this yearning. We were taught to feel shame for such a desire. We grew our hair long and used it to hide our feelings. But the shadow of Wild Woman still lurks behind us during our days and in our nights. No matter where we are, the shadow that trots behind us is definitely four-footed."

Clarissa Pinkola Estes

to the women in my life, those marvelous four-footed creatures, to the ones who have seemingly been there forever, and the ones who have recently trotted in, thank you for the inspiration, the support, the scent, the trails, the nourishment, the strength, the wisdom, the love and the laughter.

too

she insisted
she really wanted to
not because i...
.. or because it was there...
but because she wanted to
she insisted

now, being an apple
from this particular tree
in the morning
in the evening
many times
in between
she practices
before breakfast
after breakfast
in her pajamas
always in her pajamas
it slides off my lap,
mama,
if i wear my princess dress

and so we play duets
in our pajamas
before breakfast
because what else
would we do?

wednesday

i wanted to write a completely different 'wednesday' post, but couldn't resist the high cuteness quota of the above photograph. therefore.

we are truly blessed with our local thrift stores. there are four of them within easy walking distance of our house, and one in particular, the idealistic emmaus, is a true treasure trove. they are only open on saturdays and wednesdays, from 1 to 4, so that often we end up staring at an item in the window for days on end before we can purchase it, and then we have to be lucky that nobody gets there earlier (there are long cues in front of the store every wednesday and saturday, as you can imagine). and it is so very good, this having to stare for a long time, and think about whether we really need whatever it is, and whether we really want it. and trusting that if it is meant to be ours, it will wait for us. as it does.

for instance, today. for a few pennies, we became the proud owners of a (much stared at) brand-new children's microscope with accessories; a shoebox containing somebody's entire collection of stones and minerals, with labels and information cards (as a child, i wanted to be a geologist, and had quite a collection, lost in a move, mourned ever since) (happily, at least one member of this family seems to share the interest, isabelle kept excusing herself from whatever we were doing this evening to 'go and look at the precious stones'); three educational CD-roms focusing on reading/writing and maths for 5-7 year olds; one educational CD-rom on travelling around the world; a polaroid SX-70 camera; a hand-puppet, and...

... a lambswool stripey hat.
(honesty bids me confess in passing that the sugarless project died an unfortunate and somewhat unexpected death in the throes of a sudden and vicious bout of pms that had me woolfing down the better (if not best) part of a large milka choco-biscuit bar, followed closely by all of the very very dark chocolate i had saved for special emergencies, followed by... well, i will spare you the gory details. in the spirit of point (6) of the programme, i am thinking of resuscitating the sugarless project in the morning)

the day after...

... the mayonnaise, we had to do something with the egg whites. Pauline's recipe for these involves two huge egg whites, beaten stiff with a pinch of salt, and then sweetener (in our case the ubiquitous maple syrup) and 150 g of shredded coconut. preheat oven to 160 degrees and bake for twenty minutes. they were gone in a jiffy. in fact, their appearance in our house was so short that they have something of the quality of a dream and antoine still insists on checking the cookie tin every morning to see whether they might have, by magic, reappeared.

on time

time is truly giving me a run for my money. i read somewhere that einstein didn't believe in it. apparently, he thought there was no such thing. hhmm (seriously raises the question of whether it's better for a theory if the theorist believes in the principles the theory is based on or really really not). then there is all those languages in which 'soon' and 'a short while ago' is the same word. more hhmm. plus the idea that time, should it exist, is nowhere like the sad linear concept us poor westerlings have come up with but a wonderful cyclical turning wheel. hhmm hhmm. and then of course the buddhist notion that since both future and past are but a figment of our imagination, there is no other time than this very second (i guess that's where buddhism and einstein meet?). and what was it again that i learned at school about time and the hopi indians?

so where does that leave little me? how can i spend year in year out in constant shortage of something that doesn't exist? and how can i ever be wasting it? or saving it? and what about all those eighteenth century people, the jane austen character types, whose time was (they say) so much slower than ours? how did they get to have slower time? and can i have some too please (am reading a book called Slow in the hope of finding out how, but have so far fallen asleep three times in the course of the introduction) (nothing to do with the quality of the book, am just very tired)? and why does it seem like such a good idea to split time up, but then the more i categorize it (time with the children, household time, social time, work time, my time), the less of it there seems to be (and is that how it works with birthday cakes too?)?

hhmm. hope you have something illuminating for me. in the meantime, i'll keep reading and thinking, and keep you posted.

in the series "make your own"...

... we are proud to present: the mayonnaise. Mirjam happened to mention the other day how that was one of her challenges in a sugarless world. and Isabelle decided she wanted some with her fries last night. which was fine, except we didn't have any. now you may not know this but i have recently instated a new policy that says 'thou shalt not go to the store for food if there is food in the house', i.e. if thou misseth an ingredient, thou must a) do without, b) make it from scratch from things thou haveth or c) replace it with something else. b) is most fun. hence: the mayonnaise. a few things i'd like to say based on my experience of this recipe:

- it says preparation time 5 minutes, cooking time 5 minutes. presumably, that's for people who have a blender. since i wasn't allowed to go and buy a blender at the store in order to not have to go to the store to buy mayonnaise, i had to do without. so make that 45 minutes of robust beating and complete wrist RSI.

- do not, i repeat do not use olive oil. especially not the expensive virgin kind. the flavour is overpowering, and so it's a waste of lovely oil and makes for weird-tasting mayonnaise (marc and i really liked it, but isabelle wouldn't touch it with a barge pole)

- reduce quantities. by as much as you can handle in terms of doing the maths and logistics (one quarter of an egg yolk, that's a tough one). we now have a fridge-full (new term for seriously big quantity) of lovely mayonnaise that will go bad within four days. and in passing, do any of you know any recipes involving mayonnaise?

- adding some mustard at the end makes it more like french-style mayonnaise. yum.

basically, it was really good. and i don't even like mayonnaise. which just goes to show.

spring

a little more depth in the blue of the sky, an earthy scent in the breeze, a touch of real warmth in the rays of the sun, little green things popping up between the dead leaves of my lavander bush, and a recognizable lightness of heart that can only mean one thing. it is here.

frenzy

where will it stop? nobody knows. the baking frenzy around here is reaching unknown heights. today, it was ontbijtkoek that we attempted, and i was wondering whether anybody knows a decent recipe for it, because the one we tried never rose (rose????), and never really baked through, despite being in the oven for at least 4 hours. still, it tasted pretty good, and the house smells lovely. oh, and then there is my new little helper. isn't he just yummy?
(ahem, i just realized you might come to the conclusion that i haven't changed my son's clothing for two weeks or so... oh what the heck, think what you like... i am off to watch my last movie until easter)

sober lent

inspired by the example of a wise woman, and adapting somewhat to what i can actually manage, i am going to do a lent sobriety fast. beginning tomorrow (wednesday 25 feb) and for the next forty days, i shall follow these guidelines:

1. meditate every day (at least ten minutes)

2. listen every day to a piece of Bach's Mattheus Passion

3. refrain from swearing, lying, complaining and speaking negatively

4. no television and very limited internet

5. no purchases except the strictly necessary

6. deal kindly with potential failures to comply with 1-5

anybody want to join in?

what's in a name

in Pannekoekentaart, the cat Findus celebrates her birthday on any day she feels like it, and her grumpy loving old boss Pettson always makes her favourite cake for the occasion. Isabelle was inspired by the idea and decided that she wanted to celebrate her birthday as often as she felt like it. an idea i approve of in principle but am less excited about if it means i have to organize full-blown birthday parties every two weeks. a while ago, i came up with a possible compromise: the name-day. reviving a good old catholic tradition and getting stuffed on lovely cake. today was Isabelle's name-day. (incidentally, her name means 'my god is a vow' in hebrew) (i don't know about hebrew, but what does that mean in english????). so we baked (a sugarless confection, see below). and celebrated. and found out that, amazingly, today wasn't only Isabelle's name-day but also, believe it or not, the Nutcracker's. speaking of coincidences. who would have thought? we don't know what his name means, though. google remains silent on the matter.

(Chocolate Fudge Torte with Miniola-Mascarpone Frosting, adapted from The Enchanted Broccoli Forest
I. Cake
preheat oven to 180 degrees. grease cake tin. in large bowl, mix 1/2 cup of butter and 3/4 runny honey until creamy. add two eggs. one at a time.
in small bowl mix 1/2 cup of cocoa powder with 1/2 cup of hot water until it becomes smooth paste. add to the butter mixture.
in medium-sized bowl, sift together: 2 cups flour, 1 tsp. baking soda, 1/2 tsp salt and some vanilla.
stir this mixture into cocoa/butter mixture. add 1 cup of yoghurt. mix well. pour into tin.
bake for 20 to 30 min.
II. Frosting
in small bowl, combine 1 cup of mascarpone cheese, 1 tsp vanilla and 1 tsp grated miniola rind with 3 tbsp. of honey. beat until fluffy. spread over cooled-down cake.
decorate with violet petals.)

saturday musings

"in dwelling, live close to the ground"

Tao Le-Ching

i am slowly, painfully and repeatedly reaching the conclusion that life is a bottom-up affair. devastating news for this here inveterate top-downer (should you doubt the veracity of the epiphet, i briefly refer you to my phd dissertation, which in 210 pages manages to avoid any mention of real data, for fear of it spoiling the kissability of the theory), but there you have it. top-down is pretty but non-livable, as i have had to find out repeatedly, painfully and slowly. bottom-up is messy, but at least, if you get scared, or lose your balance, you can always sit down. and although bottom-up never looks like it will get you anywhere (as in to a nobel prize in literature, public ovation, or presidency of the new republic of women), in the end, it's the only way to be somewhere at all.

for instance (the previous paragraph having shown convincingly that i am not out of the woods yet as far as theory-obsession goes): rather than wonder who to be (answers: writer, artist, postwoman, shepherd, midwife, stand-up comedian, woodpecker, circus act, guru, etc.), wonder instead what to do (walk on the beach, bake, cycle, spend time with children, knit, make music, talk to friends, sew, cook, write, think, write, draw, crochet, yoga, blog, etc.). rather than wonder how much one should spend on groceries, wonder for a while how much one does spend on groceries. rather than spend three hours online, in the dead of night, trying to find absolutely fantastic but utterly unfindable strawberry (mara des bois) seeds, get the regular strawberry seeds out of the kitchen drawer and plant them.

i hope you're all having a lovely bottom-up weekend!

sugar-free

for at least two years now, i have wanted to eliminate sugar from our diet. the operative word here being wanted. even though i know that sugar is not good for me. and i know why sugar is not good for me. and i even more or less know how to live without sugar, still it never happened. it just seemed too hard, giving up on sweet tastes altogether. not to mention...

- baking. the need to bake. cookies, bread, buns, scones, etc.. the more down, depressed, burnt out or generally miserable, the greater the need to bake.
- yogi tea. absolute addiction. cannot be drunk without sweetener (yuck!).
- regular dosis of chocolate, particularly during pre-menstruation time, this can mean the difference between life and death (...of close relatives and friends).
- amazingly beautiful tin of organic maple syrup (see above). am in love with tin (don't anybody dare say i could have the tin without the syrup).

anyway, this time around, inspired by Mirjam's example, i thought i'd make a more gentle plan. maple syrup can stay, as can honey. in limited dosis. and occasionally, some extremely dark (above 90%) chocolate. our first forray into the sugarless world consisted of making our own crüsli (granola). i used the recipe from Apples for Jam, and tweaked it a bit. it was lovely to make (very child-friendly recipe and the house still smells delicious) and it gave me that amazing kick that comes from making something you have formerly only bought. it turned out fantastic too. (Granola recipe adapted from Apples for Jam, by Tessa Kiros

pre-heat oven to 180 degrees
- 200 gr. 7-koren vlokken
- 4 tbsp. sunflower seeds
- 2 tbsp. sesame seeds
- 1 tsp. cinnamon
- handful of almonds (chopped)
- pinch of salt
mix the above in large bowl. use hands (preferably little ones).
in small saucepan, on a low fire, make sauce by melting 50 gr. of butter with 1/2 cup of runny honey and 1/3 cup maple syrup.
pour sauce over mixture in bowl. use little hands again to mix thoroughly.
use little-finger-licking time to spread mixture thinly over baking sheet/tray (covered in baking paper).
put into oven for 15 min.
turn mixture around.
put back into oven for another 15 min.
allow to cool.
put in jar.
admire jar.
eat.)

pffff....

... so much stuff on my plate. antoine is nursing fifteen times a day. still having burn-out, no idea whether will ever be able to go back to work. the mirror in my bedroom is really dirty. no idea whether what used to be my work is going to be my work. thinking of quitting altogether. figured homeschooling two children and running a household is work too. lots of it. marc won't play the hubby-makes-the-cash game with me though. therefore stressed out about losing both incomes within a few months of each other. and ending up on the street. in a cardboard box. there is a stain on my camera that shows up in every photograph and just will not go away. the volkstuin and garden house needs so much work, the garden is a lumpy swamp covered in reeds and potholes, and there is no water and no heating in the house, i have no idea where to start. waking up at five in the morning with panick attacks about what kind of strawberry to plant. have so far spent half of rare and delicious child-free day wondering whether i should go for a walk, bake a cake, read an inspiring book, plant some seeds, or dive under the covers with lots of chocolate and forget that there is a world out there....

or... i could do housework... or not...

did i mention this was a 'pfffff....' kind of day? (i can feel the chocolate nap option is winning).

in the knit of time

with spring just a breath away, i managed to complete some long-abandoned knitting projects. this sweater for isabelle (wool and pattern from la droguerie) was begun in the early winter of 2006-2007. luckily i tend to overestimate when it comes to sizing, so when the last seam was finally stitched (some time last week), it fit her perfectly. now i hope for a cold spring and no arm-length growth at all this year.
this little item was actually ready on time and made its deadline beneath the christmas tree (a record). however, christmas morning brought the devastating news that although it fit our dumpling perfectly in all body parts, the tight collar wouldn't go over his head. in an attempt to salvage the sweater, i accidentally unravelled half the neck and it took me another six weeks to pick it up again. but here it is. cute as a bun. and the colours make stains utterly invisible.

as for my cold little right foot friend, there is little hope for her this year. luckily, she doesn't grow that fast. and she is a patient little creature.

saving the planet...

... Mega Mindy (with a recently vanquished snake (about to be deported to the snake asylum) (the snake, that is, not Mindy))...
... and her weird-looking (but very precocious) side-kicks.

new love

a month ago (and as a result of dilligently doing the seemingly silly tasks of the Artist's Way), i fell hopelessly in love with a plastic turquoise box made in china. i have no idea how i managed to live almost 35 years without an accordion hanging down my front. the way it straps around my back, the weight of it on my thigh, the smoothness under my fingers. but mostly, mostly, mostly, the magic of that sound that seems to come straight from my soul through my chest into the box and out at the other end. i practice every day. and all is changed, changed utterly.

more january joy

i know they are always around, but it is only in the depth of winter, with grey skies and blue moods always at my heels, that i begin to appreciate their deep sunny colours, their thick cheerfuly bitter skins,their aromatic scent, their tanginess and juiciness.

citrus fruit.

(i read once that a study was done which showed that the one consistent difference between men and women was whether they adored (women) or hated (men) the skins of citrus fruit. our household at least confirms the study; the girls are mad about them and the boys spit them out. but i asky you: who pays to have such studies done? and are they hiring?)

so here are three favourites, sunnying up my days:

in the foreground, the bergamotte. the name alone. yes, i know, names are big around here at the moment. one of the key ingredients in earl grey tea. looks suspiciously like a lemon, but has a far stronger, more aromatic scent and taste(although the local detractors claim they can't tell the difference...). to be used sparingly, one slice at a time, in your cup of tea.

the large deep orange fruit are mineola. a new addition to our family repertoire, they are a softer, sweeter, more interesting version of the orange (again, the detractors etc....). yum. love the deep orange colour.

finally, never to be forgotten, my personal secret for coping with all potential january nastiness, to be gobbled whole, in order to fully experience the bitterness and bite on the tongue, the sweetness and softness of the just-under-the-skin inner flesh and the lemony sour burst of juiciness. wow.

kumquats and cold showers. for a truly zingy midwinter.

january joy: the matching woolies

eat more kale

is the title of a beautiful print in Nikki McClure's Collect Raindrops, a book i have been leafing through for two years now, looking for, and finding, inspiration, quiet and beauty. time and again, as i leafed, i would stop by this particular print, somewhere in the winter section. eat more kale.

slowly, it acquired a special meaning, kale. it became symbolic of an entire lifestyle, a beautiful sane engaged grounded lifestyle, involving rich wholesome organic home-grown food, time on one's hands, a place in the countryside, a wood-cutter musician for a husband, and somewhere between the nappies and one's art, between the apple and the tomato sauce, deep peace of mind.

a lifestyle which clearly Nikki Mc Clure had, and i did not. but, not to despair, i told myself, for one day, all that would change. one day, i would simply start to eat more kale... and the world would open its secrets to me. the name alone, k-a-l-e, i loved to say it out loud, kale... sheer poetry...

of course, and please not to laugh yet, until two days ago, i didn't actually know what kale was. not that that was important. a vegetable. a winter vegetable. exotic yet grounded. beautiful. tasty. filled to the brim with the best mother earth has to offer, vitamins, minerals, the works. oh, kale.

then, last week, on the-day-before-the-market-when-all-meals-for-the-week-are-planned, i happened to be leafing through this cookery book (the cover of which was done, suspiciously, by none other than... Nikki McClure) and i happened to happen on the recipe for "white bean and kale minestrone". my heart skipped a beat. this was it. THE moment had arrived. tremulously, i penciled 'kale' onto my list, with a mental reminder to google for kale's dutch name.

except i didn't (google), because life got in the way, and suddenly, there i was, at my usual vegetable stand, with a list in my hand proclaiming 'kale' and still no clue as to what it was i wanted. i asked my vegetable man (sometimes he knows the most amazing things), he said he didn't know... wasn't sure... it sounded familiar... he would ring someone to ask. so he did. ring. ask. and he came back...

... with a boerenkool.

i think maybe you have to be dutch to appreciate the true amplitude and depth of my disappointment. boerenkool is not poetic. it means 'farmer's cabbage'. which is not poetry. boerenkool is also not exotic. every dutch family has eaten it every week of every winter for the last ten centuries. granted, it is a winter vegetable with all the good stuff, but it's pretty hard to chew, and it tastes (not together surprisingly) of cabbage. pffff!

what an anti-climax. i could barely stop myself from bursting into tears in front of the vegetable man. but i managed somehow. took the 'kale' home. laid the 'kale' on the table. looked at the 'kale' for a while....

...and got to thinking... that maybe this incident really was a parable for 2009. what if kale really is everything i always thought it to be, and i have been eating it all along. what if maybe in my husband's soul, there is music and wood-cutting, and maybe maybe my life actually is wholesome, organic and peaceful. as peaceful as it would be if i were Nikki McClure. if not more. what if i actually already make applesauce and tomato sauce and art. and what if, maybe, 2009 is all about that. about the fact that the boerenkool you eat is amazing kale, and that amazing kale is good old boerenkool. that poetry is right here, in my kitchen. that it has been here all along. waiting for me to see. waiting for me to take notice.

all right, 2009! i am ready. ready to stop wanting and start having what i already have. although, if it's all right with you, i would still prefer to call it kale...

lost and found glass museum

sand

we blew into

glass

sand

slowly

smooths

back

into

sand