Marla in the Kitchen

Aretha Franklin, Respect

Gertrude Stein’s remark, “There is no there there,” about her Oakland, California hometown, has been borrowed by the Justice Department to throw out bribery charges, used by political candidates to discount their opponents, and rewritten by Madison Avenue campaigns to disparage rival hamburgers. The City of Berkeley went so far as to commission a large outdoor sculpture, “HERETHERE,” to let people know that they were “here” in Berkeley and not “there” in Oakland. 

Other cities suffer from the same lack of respect: Seattle is cool, Tacoma is not; Portland is cool, Vancouver WA is not; Olympia is cool, Lacey is not; San Francisco and Berkeley are cool; Sacramento and Oakland are not—you get the drift. 

But the not-so-cool kids are rising up: Tacoma’s real estate prices are steadily increasing; Sacramento recently showed up on a “Best Cities To” list; Vancouver is being touted this year as a “foodie” city; Lacey—no movement yet. Sacramento doesn’t get the same respect and favor shown to San Francisco, but the downtown has character and a defiant sense of pride. 

Definitely a cool kid.

Our Midtown neighborhood has that character plus a high walkability score, so I do just fine without a car—take today, for example. Given the size of our refrigerator, a daily stroll to the Grocery Outlet is routine. On the way to the store I stopped by the Goodwill to see if there was a grater for sale, not so much; but you would not believe the rack of wedding dresses!

Oh, for a bride.

Next stop: Old Soul, the neighborhood coffee roasterie, buderie, brewery, and bakery. Cool to the max with prices to match: $3.25 for a pour of coffee, $8.00 for a loaf of whole wheat bread!

 
So my $8.00 bread and I continued our errands, walked through the neighborhood to the Grocery Outlet, where we picked up an onion, a few carrots, a bag of candy corn, and strolled on home through the rose garden.

It’s that time of year, so buy some candy corn, some salted peanuts and get ready for a quick, easy, pre-Halloween snack.

Peanuts and candy corn

The taste of the finished dish will reflect the provenance of the ingredients and the ratio of candy corn to peanuts. My friend RA (expert on all things candy corn), recommends using this year’s corn crop; my daughter Bridget, who gave me this recipe, uses Costco’s tinned salted peanuts; and I would never buy candy corn packaged in a cellophane bag, sealed with a twist tie. (Look for those telling broken white kernel tips at the bottom of the sack.) The quality of candy corn bought from a bulk bin is inconsistent and should be used with reservations.

1 part local, farm-to-table, sustainably-grown candy corn
1 part Costco tinned, salted peanuts (jarred Planters can be used in an emergency)

Shake candy corn gently into an upturned palm, shake equal amount of peanuts into the same palm. Consume in one shot or pair individual pieces, as desired.

For large groups, pour 1 part candy corn into bowl, add equal amount of peanuts, stir to mix, and serve.

TJ update—just read that there is candy-corn flavored popcorn!

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The Beatles, A Day in the Life

A few snippets of a day-in-the-life in Sacramento:

Last weekend, we rested on a bench in the Capitol Park World Peace Rose Garden watching two wedding parties: one pink and girly with yards of airy, voluminous tulle and the other a more restrained white satin pant suit for the bride and sleek beige dresses for the bridesmaids. The rose-covered trellis, classic fountain, and white pergola beg to be including in wedding pictures, so in the summer, it’s line up first, then marry. 

After pink tulle and white satin each wed the man of her dreams, two large horses, carrying the Sacramento Mounted Patrol, lumbered up to the fountain. They were late for the ceremonies, but back on the job after a long, loud drink.

Our eleventh floor room faces west, so at around 6:30 am, sunrise reflects off skyscraper windows and at 6:30 pm, a dramatic, golden sunset lights up the darkening sky. 

At sunrise I noticed black-ribbon drifts of crows flying east, away from downtown and at sunset, dense black crow clouds coming back toward the west. Of course, Mr. Google knew what was going on. He estimates that every night during the warm months, between 10,000 and 20,000 crows roost in downtown Sacramento. In the 1980s, the suburbs became hostile to crow crowds, using dynamite to roust the birds from their evening perches. The refugees retreated, liked city nightlife, and spend their summer evenings downtown, returning to suburban roosts in the fall. 

This spring, Ginny gave me a few “Grandpa Ott” morning glory starts and after coaxing, cajoling, plenty of sun, and a few Miracle-Gro bribes, Grandpa finally flourished, covered our trellis, and provided privacy for our patio area. 

The Sweetie came back from his Saturday morning walk and said, “You won’t believe the hedge of Grandpa Otts in the park.” We went back and sure enough, the park’s brick administrative office was surrounded by a six foot tall, square block of dense, purple morning glories. 

It’s never to late to get advice from your mother. When I was organizing my recipes from newspaper clippings, magazine articles, and restaurant-pocket notepads, I came across this handwritten recipe from Muth. It was dated 1965, when I was a young wife trying to feed three on a military budget, and asked her for a few tips. She wrote me a sweet, encouraging letter with this recipe.  

Muth’s Potato Soup

“Slice three or four potatoes and a few onions. Boil until tender in a small amount of water, salt, pepper and butter. Add milk, bring to a boil. Add processed cheese if you desire. That’s all there is to it.”

Two line recipes are just what I currently need, so I brought it out this week, added some leftover salmon and corn, and thanked her again.

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Katy Perry, California Gurls

Another beautiful morning on San Diego’s Pacific Beach: soft, summer breeze, cloudless blue sky, gulls circling overhead (probably on the prowl for palm rats and kittens). Sundays bring out the surfers, the watchers, the families, and the yoga practitioners. Barefoot surfers walk by my concrete perch wearing wet suits, most black, carrying their boards, mostly white, and descend the steep dirt trail to the beach. 

Like the beach, surfing is egalitarian: to be known as a “surfer dude,” all you need is a ride to the beach, a board, the discipline to learn some serious skills, and stamina. Most of the wet-suited, board-carriers are young, white, men with lean, sun-tanned bodies. There are always a few silver-haired older gents and some naturally brown skins in the mix, but today I saw someone completely different: an older, grey-haired woman about my age. 

She walked solo (wearing a bright pink wet suit) with a careful stride, and easily carried her board (bright aqua blue) down the winding dirt path. She paddled out into the surf, ducking under each wave as it crashed, bobbing up on the other side, ready to take on the next one. Taking her place beyond the cresting waves alongside the young ones, she waited her turn, pulled through the water to merge, was up in a flash, and rode gracefully all the way to the beach.

While the surfers surfed, the watchers watched, and the yoga practitioners gathered. I could hear the thumping of rubber mats on the grass behind my bench as the Sunday morning devotees claimed their piece of turf. “Gotta get here early to claim a flat spot, otherwise you are downward dogging on every step.”

As if on cue, a lithe man in his forties greeted me pleasantly and asked (exactly as he did a year ago), “Mind if I hop up on your bench to lead my yoga class?” When I asked him why his pig wasn’t with him (unlike last year), he said, “Clubber fell victim to a few PB residents who ratted him out for lack of a permit. The city required that I place him in Penelope’s Purpose, a sanctuary up in Ramona, so now I pay pig support every month—don’t want to be a deadbeat dad.”

Steve, yoga instructor

Clubber, yoga pig

North Carolina fish stew

• 1/2 lb. (6 strips) Thick-Cut Bacon
• 2 Medium or 1 Large Yellow Onion, peeled, halved, and sliced into 1/4” half-moons
• 6 cups Fish or chicken stock or water
• 6 oz. Tomato Paste
• 1 t Red Pepper Flake
• 1 Bay Leaf
• 1 1/2 lb Red Potatoes, sliced 1/4” thick
• 1 1/2 lb Thick Cut white fish fillet – cod works well
• 4 eggs
• 1-2 tsp Hot Sauce, such as Frank’s or Crystal
• Salt & Pepper

1. Heat a heavy soup pot over Medium heat.  Cut the bacon strips into 1” sections, and place in the pot to render the fat.  Allow the bacon to crisp. Remove from the pan, leaving the fat.
2. Add the onion slices to the pan and cook about 8 minutes until they are translucent and tender and just beginning to brown.
3. To the onions, add 1-2 teaspoons salt, 1 tsp black pepper, the red pepper flake and the 6 cups water.  Stir in the Tomato paste. Add the sliced potatoes, and turn heat up to Medium-High.  When the soup begins to simmer, wait 10 minutes.
4. While simmering, cut the fish fillet into large (2”x2”x2”) chunks. They should be big and thick. After the 10 minutes has passed, add the fish to the soup. Then, cracking the eggs, add 1 at a time to the soup. Cover for 15 minutes.  This should be enough time to cook the fish and poach the eggs. 
5. Test and adjust flavor by adding salt, pepper and hot sauce, as desired.

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