Sorry, Pumpkin

Sorry Pumpkin, there’s a new pie in town.

Thanksgiving weekend has just about passed; the cooking is done, the dishes washed, families and friends have gathered and dispersed, the kids are getting ready to head back to Ann Arbor.   Our family has often traveled on Thanksgiving weekend, and been pretty flexible with the scheduling of the actual Thanksgiving day feast.  However, there has been nothing flexible about the menu.  This year, I suggested to Al that instead of traditional mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, squash, etc, we could make that wonderful roasted root vegetable recipe I tried a couple of weeks ago- chunks of potato, sweet potato, carrots and fresh beets, roasted in a little olive oil and butter with simple seasonings.  “What?  No mashed potatoes?  We NEED mashed potatoes for the gravy!”  he exclaimed, clearly horrified by the prospects of a non-traditional potato treatment.   Although I love roasted veggies and was eager to have fewer side dishes (and consequently fewer leftovers), I conceded without further debate.

If you know me at all or have been following this blog, you’ll know that cooking is one of my favorite hobbies.  Al loves to cook too and is well known for his homemade pies.  He makes beautiful, flaky crusts and has a knack for juicy (but not runny) fillings.  This year, he and Ellen cooked up two wonderful pies, and of course, Thanksgiving tradition called for pumpkin and apple.  Both lived up to his high standards and were simply delightful.

But this year, there was an intruder on our Thanksgiving dinner. 

A week or so ago, Nancy came to dinner and brought a dessert called “Nantucket Cranberry Pie.”   Despite having grown up in  fairly close proximity to Nantucket,  I had never heard of this pie, really more of a cobbler.  The filling is made from fresh cranberries, walnuts or pecans, and sugar and the buttery topping has a wonderful overtone of almonds.  Al and I simply loved this pie and if you want to make one,  the exact recipe can be found at the PioneerWoman website.  We immediately deemed this recipe a new favorite, and I decided to make one ‘for the weekend’ if not for Thanksgiving day itself. 

This recipe is not at all difficult, calling for no unusual ingredients, no special equipment, and no advanced techniques.  However, there is one teeny-weeny thing you should be aware of.  

Size matters.  A lot.

I have lots of experience and really should have known better, but I made a couple of bad decisions on my first attempt to recreate this pie. First, the recipe calls for 2 cups of fresh cranberries, but a typical 12 oz bag contains 3 cups.  The Thanksgiving cranberry sauce was already made and not having any use for one cup of leftover fresh cranberries, I decided to use all of them-- making the filling extra-cranberry-y.  Of course, cranberries are not naturally sweet so I adjusted the other filling ingredients to compensate.  This seemed like a good idea and it would have been fine, except for my next decision.  I really wanted to use my pretty glazed stoneware pie pan, with its deep cranberry red exterior, so perfect for the cranberry pie.  The diameter of the pan is a little small, but I convinced myself that it was deep enough to contain the recipe.   I put the three cups of berries, the pecans and sugar into the pan and that is when my brain should have sent out some warning signals “Danger Will Robinson!  Pan is too small” but I was so enamored with the idea of the cranberry pie in that cranberry- red pie dish that I just kept going.  The batter came right to the top of the pan—in fact there wasn’t quite enough room for all of it.  Oh well.  I stuck the pie in the oven next to the apple pie that Al and Ellen made and went upstairs while the two desserts baked.

About 10 minutes later, Ellen called from the kitchen. “Mom!  Should I open a window to let out the smoke?” 

Smoke?  Egads!

I ran downstairs to discover my cranberry pie had overflowed and that delicious buttery, almondy topping was emitting a thick gray smoke as it turned to charcoal on the bottom of the oven.

 It was really quite impressive.

We turned on all the fans and they began clearing air in the room.  I was worried that the apple pie would acquire an unpleasant smokiness, so I moved it to our second oven (for which I was grateful!).  With no other options, I put a cookie sheet under the oozing calamity that was my cranberry pie and just let it finish cooking. 

Wolfgang Pauli, in dismissing some inferior scientific work, famously said, “This isn’t right.  This isn’t even wrong.”  Well, I can tell you my pie was not beautiful.  It wasn’t even ugly.  It was a train wreck.

But-- and here is the amazing part--it was still delicious. 

Nantucket Cranberry Pie- Second Try!

Everyone loved it and just like that a new tradition was born.  When the first cranberry pie ran out, I made a second in a bigger pan, with no further incident. Nantucket Cranberry Pie will not replace traditional apple and pumpkin, but will take its place alongside, and a decade from now it will be as deeply rooted in our family tradition as beignets on Christmas morning.  I will, however,  ALWAYS remember to use a larger pan.

So, Santa… if you are reading this, I’d like a 10” cranberry red glazed stoneware pie pan.  

On Thanksgiving, as everyday, I am thankful for so many things.   First and foremost, Al, Eric and Ellen.  Extended family, adopted family, close friends, new friends, old friends, and friends yet to come.  Good health, a warm safe home, rewarding work, furry pets (although maybe not the shedding), laughter.  The beauty of all creation.  Music, art, science,  literature, good food,  chocolate,  sunlight, moonlight.  Memories, this moment, the promise of tomorrow.    So many blessings.   Life is good.

 Indeed.

Saying Yes!

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door.  … You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.”

So said Bilbo Baggins, a Hobbit of great experience to his young nephew, Frodo, on the consequences of leaving home. Bilbo would have been the last person,  uh… Hobbit, to discourage adventure.   While he loved his home in the Shire, he yearned to see more of Middle Earth.  Any of you who have read the Tolkien masterpiece, or seen  Peter Jackson’s brilliant film renditions,  know that Frodo does leave the Shire and could not possibly have know where he would be ‘swept off to.’  He was ‘swept off  to’ an adventure that he never could have prepared for, and while most of us are not given the responsibility of singlehandedly destroying evil like Frodo was, we can never know precisely what life has in store for us either.

Bilbo certainly got it right; the start of any new adventure is simultaneously full of opportunity and rife with uncertainty.   We simply can not know what lies ahead and perhaps that is why it is often so hard to take that first step.  This makes sense when we are pondering major life changes, but there seems to be tremendous inertia to changing all things, even very small things.  As a chemist, I tend to think of it in terms of activation barriers.  The basic idea is that to get the ball rolling, you need to give it a push.

Hang on a minute.  My laptop just beeped at me to tell me that the battery is low.  I need to plug it in.  I really should have done that when I sat down to write, but I was too lazy to open the outer zipper pocket on the computer case, and besides, the power cord is always tangled with the internet cable.  What a pain.  But now, I am about to lose my typing, so I’d better deal with it.

Ok.  I'm back. The computer is plugged in and I can keep writing. 

Now, what was I saying about activation barriers?  Oh yes, sometimes I need a push to do even small things, like… well...... like plugging in my laptop.  I tend to like pictures, so,

Even though it is more desirable to have unlimited work time, it initially required less of my energy to run off the battery.  That worked until the battery ran low. 

When the battery ran critically low, I had to devote a little energy to solving the problem.  I had to overcome the activation barrier. The turning point (or transition state) was reached when I untangled the power cord and the internet cable.  Over the hump,  plugged in the computer and can now work indefinitely, or at least until I finish this blog!

Some of you know, but many don’t, that a couple of years ago I lost some weight.  Quite a lot of weight actually.   It is no secret that weight control is a big concern in our society and lots of people have asked how I did it.   It was actually very simple.  NOT easy, but simple.  Eat less.  That was it.  The hard part was that first step, that scary uncertain first step of overcoming the activation barrier by putting in the energy necessary  to get over that hump.  (Trust me, the barriers to weight loss are HUGE!)   To paraphrase Jim Lovell in his autobiographical book, “Lost Moon” (made into the movie “Apollo 13”),   “It wasn’t a miracle.  I just decided to do it.” 

The first step was the doozy. 

It seems to me that the first step is always the doozy.  It is where the energy has to be supplied to overcome the activation barriers. The first step is to believe that something both can and should be done.  The first step is having faith that you can ‘keep your feet’ and stay on track.  The first step is saying yes.

To quote Stephen Colbert (the person, not the personality)*,

Cynics always say no. But saying "yes" begins things. Saying "yes" is how things grow. Saying "yes" leads to knowledge. "Yes" is for young people. So for as long as you have the strength to, say "yes."

Today I am grateful for the energy to say yes and overcome (at least some of the) activation barriers and begin new adventures, like this blog!

* Stephen Colbert in his commencement address at Knox College, June 2006.

Squandered light

Saturday, November 13

I am having a bad morning.  This is my last day in New Orleans and I have been promising myself all week that I’d get up early and do some sunrise photography along the Mississippi River.  This requires significant effort since I am not an early morning person by nature, but as a photographer, I wanted to photograph sunrise over the river and the city waking up (or since this is New Orleans, going to bed) in the early morning light.  Today, for the third consecutive day, I slept too late and squandered my last opportunity to capture the soft pink light of dawn.

Why?

 I stayed up way too late last night and was just too tired to get up that early this morning.  As you can imagine, Agnes and Agatha, my twin internal critics, had plenty to say.

A&A:  So, how did those early morning sunrise photos turn out?

Me:  Well, I didn’t exactly get up in time. 

A&A: :  Why not?  You have been promising every day that you have been here.  This was your last chance.  What were you doing? 

Me(evasively):  Sleeping.  I was very tired.

Beignets at Cafe Du Monde= LOVE!

A&A:    Well, maybe we’ll cut you some slack.   Were you out at a late night jazz club? After all, you ARE in New Orleans. 

Me: No, that wasn’t it.

A&A:   A late night hurricane at the hotel bar with some friends?

Me:  Uh, no not that either.

A&A:   Did you have a big Cajun dinner?  Sometimes rich food keeps you awake.

Me: No, that wasn’t the problem.

A&A(clearly exasperated):  Did you stay up late reading again?

Try the shrimp remoulade- YUM!

Me: No.  I didn’t have anything to read. I somehow forgot to bring any books or my Kindle on this trip.

A&A:   Writing?  Were you working on your story for your writing group? Or your Sunday blog?

Me:  No.

A&A:   What then?  Did you find a late night movie on TV?

Me (sighing):  No.

A&A:  What on earth were you doing?

Me:  Well, if you must know, I was doing Sodoku puzzles on my cell phone. 

A&A: : WHAT?  You missed a chance for sunrise photos because you frittered away time and energy doing Sodoku puzzles on your cell phone?

I nod.

A&A: : You moron!  

Me:  I did improve my times….

A&A (dripping with sarcasm):  Congratulations.

Yeah.  That is what is happening in my head this morning.   I downloaded the Sodoku application to kill time in the airports, but somehow I spent several hours playing last night.  Maybe you can understand my frustration.  I lost an opportunity that I will not have again for a very long time because I wore myself out playing mindless games on a cell phone.  Every time I started a new puzzle, I’d promise myself that it would be the last one.  But I kept playing, one puzzle after the other, determined to set new records for completion time.

Why? 

I have no idea.  I wasn’t even enjoying it, really.  It was like sitting down to watch an episode of “Design on a Dime” and staying for three consecutive episodes of “House Hunters.”    Suddenly the whole evening has passed and nothing got done.  Relaxation is one thing, catatonia is another.

This does not fill me with pride.  

Benjamin Franklin tried to organize his life around a “bold and arduous Project to achieve moral Perfection,” and developed a set of 13 ideal virtues.  He made a chart and evaluated his performance on each of the virtues each day.  He finally concluded that there was no way to achieve moral Perfection, but felt that he was "a better and a happier man than I otherwise should have been if I had not attempted it."  If you check out his list, you’ll see why he never quite measured up.  I have given some thought to a philosophy of living and while my plan is still in development (and significantly more modest than Ben's) I do know two essential elements

• I try to remember that it is not about me.
• I try to live a life that I will someday be proud of having lived.

I don’t remember who the commencement speaker was at Al’s college graduation, but I do remember a story that he told.  A man was trying to get some reading done and his young son was pestering him endlessly.  Finally, the man tore out a page of a magazine that featured a picture of the earth.  He tore it into many pieces and told his son to reassemble the picture, like a jigsaw puzzle.  The man thought that the task would take the child a long time, but the little boy finished very quickly.  The father, quite impressed, asked how he had done this so quickly.  The boy replied, “On the back of the page, there was a picture of a person.  I put the person together and the world turned out just fine.”  For a long time, that story really resonated with me.  But, now, I tend to think the exact opposite; if I focus on the world, the person will turn out fine.  In fact, I am at my best- happiest, most satisfied, most productive- when I am focused outside myself.  Said another way, I am not my most important project.

It was an academic conference that brought me to New Orleans.  One of the keynote speakers was the president of Tulane University, a fellow UCONN alum as it turns out.  He was inspirational in discussing the transformation of both his University and the city of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, which the locals simply refer to as “the storm.”   In the immediate aftermath, the future of Tulane and New Orleans were inextricably linked.  Tulane had the resources and the responsibility to assist in the recovery.  Initially, it was a matter of necessity, but civic engagement  took on a life of its own at the university and is now  the foundational value of the institution.  As a condition of graduation, ALL students must participate in public engagement every year of their college careers.  It has had enormous effects.  For example, Tulane now runs nearly 100 community health centers that service the large indigent population of this city.   As President Cowen said,  “No one will ever remember you for what you do for yourself.  You are only remembered for what you do for others.”

Exactly. 

In one of my blogs last summer, I lamented that the American cultural landscape is too homogeneous and cities and towns are eerily similar to each other.   That statement simply does not apply to New Orleans.  New Orleans is certainly not a place you could confuse with any other.  It is an assertive... no, aggressive city that assaults your senses all at once.  I found it simultaneously exhausting and exhilarating.  New Orleans is an ever changing kaleidoscope of bright lights, shiny beads, masks, nearly naked women, loud music, bars, jazz, voodoo, the delicious aromas of Cajun cooking  mixed with the reek of vomit and urine.


 Talk about sensory overload. 


 New Orleans is a little rough.  It is more than a little seedy.  But, it is unapologetically its own place.  It is what it is.  Take it or leave it.  I have to admire a city like that.

It strikes me as ironic that the message of service and selflessness emerged in this particular city.  On the one hand, “the storm” forced everyone to reexamine their values and priorities.  On the other hand, the Big Easy relies on self-indulgent tourists and deals in excess and debauchery.  I guess there is a time and a place for everything.

Except squandering an opportunity for sunrise photographs on the Mississippi.  I am still mad about that.

And just for Nancy- SHINY THINGS!

Today I am grateful for those leaders who genuinely lead for the common good.  I wish that there were more of them in our cultural and political arenas.

"15 in 15"

Last night, I attended an awards celebration.  In his acceptance speech, one of the recipients talked poignantly about a moment, a letter actually, that absolutely changed his life.  I started thinking about those moments that were pivotal in my life and at first the obvious milestones came to mind- marriage, birth of first child, birth of second child, and so on.  But there were other moments, perhaps quiet, unplanned moments when the earth shifted beneath me and I found myself moved to another place altogether.  Some of those moments occurred because of literature.

Last week, my friend Nancy, who seems to have a way of getting me started on things without even trying, sent me an invitation to participate in Facebook game called “15 Books in 15 Minutes.”   The idea is that in just 15 minutes, you post the titles of 15 books that had a big impact on you for whatever reason. Then you tag your friends and compare lists.  Unlike most Facebook games, this has been fun and very instructive; between Nancy’s list and those of some other friends,  I have my reading list for winter all worked out. 

Anyway, the first book I put on my “15 Book” list was “Stuart Little” by E.B. White.  I remember checking it out of the Wethersfield Public Library after school one day when I was seven or eight.  I brought it home and sat down at the kitchen table and started to read.  I was captivated by the adventures of the little mouse and his human parents and brother.  I simply could not put the book down and read it straight through without stopping.  I can’t say with any real certainty, but I think it was the first time that I was completely engrossed in the pages of a novel.   That book essentially changed me from a child who could read into a reader.    

As a kid, I devoured the “Little House” series,  all of the Beverly Cleary books, and others.  By  late elementary school and early junior high, I was reading a lot of mysteries- Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, and was just getting started on the Perry Masons that my mother loved when my brother shoved a copy of Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” in front of me.   This was a whole different ball of wax and I loved it.  When I finished Huxley,  he gave me a copy of William Goldings  “Lord of the Flies.”  These were the first  ‘adult literature’ that I read and they redirected my reading for many years- moving me to George Orwell, Kurt Vonnegut and others for the duration of high school.  Neither Huxley nor Golding made my “15 Book List” but they probably should have.

My passion for reading was one of the things that I shared with my mother.   Normally, our tastes In books were quite different, but there was one book, Alex Haley’s “Roots”  that we both loved.  (It is also on my “15 Book List.”)  We read it before it was widely available to the public.  A close family friend worked for Doubleday Publishers and had an early copy at her home when we visited for a weekend.  I was in high school, and bored by the adult conversation,  I picked it up and started reading.  Like my experience with “Stuart Little, “ I was unable to put the book down and read  late into the night, long after everyone had gone to sleep.  The next day, our friend offered to give me the book.  That is my memory of the story.  My mother had a different version, claiming that Jean had given the book to her.  For years, my Mom and I cheerfully argued over the ownership of that book, stealing it from each other’s bookshelves whenever we got the chance.  Once when I was in college, I stole the book and in its place left a poster for a genealogy conference that advertised "Find your own ROOTS!"  But finally, I lived too far away to continue this game, and I gave up and bought my own copy.   When I went through her things after she passed away two years ago, I found the original, and for the record, stole it back one last time.   I will probably never read this book again; its place in my life is as a symbol of that particular connection between us.  What if I read it and didn’t even like it anymore?  Too risky!

In case you are interested (and not a Facebook user), here is my full “15 Book list”  as it was posted originally.  I need to edit it at some point.  I can’t believe I forgot Winnie the Pooh! 

In no particular order

1.  Stuart Little  (E.B. White)

2.  To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee)

3.  Slaughterhouse Five (Kurt Vonnegut)

4.  Yosemite and the Range of Light (Ansel Adams)

5.  Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (Robert Pirsig)

6.  Why Christian? (Douglas John Hall)

7.  The Wasteland (T.S. Eliot)

8.  Roots (Alex Haley)

9.  The God Particle (Leon Lederman)

10. To Infinity and Beyond (Eli Maor)

11. The Shipping News (E. Annie Proulx)

12.  Poems by Lanston Hughes (Langston Hughes)

13. Intepreter of Maladies (Jumpa Lahiri)

14. Beloved (Toni Morrison)

15.Cellist of Sarajevo (Stephen Galloway)

15a.  Flatland (E. A. Abbott)

15b.  Cat's Eye (Margaret Atwood) 

Today I am grateful that my mother nurtured my love for reading, while my father encouraged my interest in science.  And I am especially grateful that my life and work allows me the opportunity to do both!  

And yes, I do know that my "15 Books" list contains 17 titles.  The edited one has even more!