"my gab and my loitering"

i confess to doing more of that internal blogging lately... i've spent very little time here, in my corner, at my desk, with the laptop fired up and far too much time running in circles- and i confess to relying on "tweet"ish updates from my phone.  so i want to both to narrativize owen's swim lesson from tuesday and to offer a photoessay of why salad greens make tj's "diner style" macaroni and cheese a healthy dinner and write up why we love DK books (and which are our favorites) and feature our october arts & crafts (lots of glue and scissor work).

instead i'll repeat the process of bookmarking (and initiate that familiar clickclacking of the keys) as a mid-day marker to my working day (thanks to nana and a bucketfull of dinosaurs) as i return  to my mccullers chapter

(ok i have to interject real time owen here who keeps flinging open the door to check how my "working" is going and asking if i've found corthyasaurus yet or if i know the difference between a coral snake and a milk snake. . . who says: "don't tell me i have a surprise for you, remember the trader joe's bread mix we bought? the new one? well i'm not telling you it's a surprise and nana and i are making it for you but don't ask me until i'm finished and then it's a suprise for you."  which reminds me that as much as 4 year olds are a constant distraction they're a necessary one. . .)

dissertation and chapters (and dinosaurs oh my!)-- oh nevermind that. . .so that this is  not just another placeholder--here's a bit more walt whitman.  because he's the songbird that keeps returning to my window--and i think we always return to "song of myself" (even if only in pieces)

. . .

The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains
 of my gab and my loitering.

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

The last scud of day holds back for me,
It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow'd wilds,
It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.

I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

. . .

(that last line haunts me every time. . .)

coffee in AMS

Having coffee with Jamo in Amsterdam.

improvement to the coffee scene

Familiar landscape at Utrecht Central train station:


Those yellow dutch trains, taken at Amsterdam South station:

saturday spatchcocking

jamie does it, nigella does it, and now we do it!  saturday we incorporated this simple method for a perfect grilled chicken--simply cut down the backbone with some kitchen sears and whack it flat and

voilà you have a chicken suitable for throwing on the barbie.  

first we made the "best barbecue sauce"  using everything in our pantry from hungarian paprika to fennel seeds.  the recipe calls for a mortal & pestle techinique (going on my christmas list!) but owen & i improvised by first toasting (worth it!) the whole spices then using our "spice grinder" (a repurposed old coffee grinder) and finally using our mini-prep to blend together everything from the orange rind to the rosemary and the olive oil to the ketchup.  

next it was time to spatchcock our chicken and slather with sauce.  we used a technique my dad applies to his bbq ribs and i'd never thought of applying to chicken-- just a slow cook for an hour or so in the oven which cooked the meat tenderly then we were able to throw the chicken on the grill for some searing and literal flaming of the sauce.

we reduced the sauce and then michael expertly used some rosemary to baste more sauce on our bird.  while grilling i cooked up some quick harvest grains with some dried fruit, pistachios and blood orange EVOO and plated up with the rest of our salad greens, feta and more EVOO and balsamic.  while the chicken legs and thighs were much more aesthetically appealing (gorgeous grill marks and a kind of medieval-times appearance which owen thought his dinosaur carnivores would love!) the succulent (yes, i must say succulent here) chicken breasts were by far tastier and the "prize" of this dish.  overall: delish!

so, mission accomplished: we successfully finished off the last of the csa basket and i'm happy to report that despite the red curry setback (shrimp paste? whither shrimp paste?) we were able to enjoy a week of produce-centered meals.  tonight we will use the last of the heirloom tomatoes in our turkey burgers tonight (making the good food recipe an official "regular" in our rotation) and look forward to a new bountiful basket on wedensday.  

now i must go and find a suitable place in my dissertation to incorporate the word spatchcocked (it does seem ripe for a footnote, no? or perhaps the act of writing is a kind of spatchcocking as in def. no. 3).