Dried beans and crusty bread

Soup is one of my favorite cold weather meals to cook for a couple of reasons.  It is warm & hearty, relatively easy, and takes many delicious forms.  Even better, it provides a perfect excuse for buying another of my (non-seasonally dependent) favorite things: a fresh, crusty loaf of bread.

I made a simple white bean soup on Sunday afternoon.  For some odd reason, I've always been intimidated by dried beans, but I have been experimenting with them lately and haven't ruined anything yet.  I just wish they didn't take so long to cook.  This recipe could probably use some refinement (or maybe the hint of another herb - thyme? rosemary?), but it was pretty tasty as is.  Here is what I think I did.

White Bean Soup with Pancetta & Kale

1. Soak 1 lb. dried white beans (such as canellini) overnight in cold water or for at least an hour using this method: place in pot and cover by a couple of inches with water.  Bring to a rolling boil and let cook for a few minutes.  Turn off heat and cover pot with a lid.  Let sit.  In either method, drain the water before using the beans.
   
2. Saute some diced pancetta or Canadian bacon or ham in a soup pot until starting to brown.  Remove and set aside.  Deglaze the pot with a little water if there is a brown goodness building up on the bottom.
   
3. Add two onions, chopped, two-ish carrots, diced, and several cloves of garlic, minced, to the pot with a little olive oil and cook until soft.
   
4. Throw into the pot: the soaked beans, the pancetta, two bay leaves, a parmesan cheese rind, if you happen to have it, and enough water to comfortably cover it all.  You could also use stock in place of the water, though I have been trying to avoid the store-bought ones lately because they are so salty and you will be simmering for long enough to create your own flavorful broth from scratch.
   
5. Bring to a boil and then reduce heat to simmer gently.  Cook until the beans are as tender as you like.
   
6. At some point, season with some salt and pepper, to taste.
   
7. When the beans are just about done, add a bunch of kale (or spinach or arugula), chopped, and cook until it is wilted, approximately five minutes.
   
8. Fish out the bay leaves and cheese rind and serve.

A hot air balloon on a tether

Last Friday, for the second time in my life (the first being spring break of my senior year of college), I had to scrape snow off of my car before hopping in and heading for the beach.  The reason for this wintry trip to Rehoboth: a weekend-long retreat for the Volunteer Corps program that I help to coordinate through church.

There is something inherently compelling about being in a vacation town during the off season.  Quiet, uncluttered streets and open stretches of beach lend themselves to getting lost in thought.  True local businesses hum reliably along like beacons in stalwart relief to the blocks full of shuttered boardwalk kiosks and tourist traps.  The only other group of any size I saw was there for the annual Polar Bear Plunge, which happened to coincide with our visit.

It was against this backdrop that we gathered for a weekend of camaraderie and conversation.  The volunteers (five recent college graduates that the church houses for a year and sets up with assorted non-profit agencies in DC) developed an agenda around the theme of shared wisdom and life lessons for twenty-somethings.  Through this framework, we discussed accomplishments, regrets, and the milestones and decisions that have shaped our lives.

Aside from the chance to spend time with a fun group of people (I learned a new game, called Fishbowl, and got to play Mafia for the first time since college!), what I appreciated most about the weekend was the chance for meaningful reflection.  Occasional windbagging sessions with Maggie aside, I rarely take the time to ponder some of the big-picture issues and decisions that impact my life in such a thoughtful way, let alone benefit from the perspectives of others.  Often, when I think about these things, it is by way of worrying.  Stepping back a little was refreshing.

Some of the other things that will stick with me:

When describing his natural inclination to be adventurous and see the world, one person compared his mom and dad's parenting style to a hot air balloon on a tether.  They gave him the space to explore and grow, but helped to keep him grounded and tied to home and family.  For whatever reason, I thought that was enormously profound, particularly as he noted how he struggles to strike the same balance with his own kids.

In a room full of Ph.Ds, fellows at major think tanks, and assorted other decorated big-wigs, many people turned first to relationships with family and friends when discussing their proudest accomplishments.

Spirituality is defined differently by many people, but is, at root, tied to personal growth.

All in all a great weekend.  I've struggled quite a bit with how church fits in my life over the past few years, but this retreat, as a manifestation of the sense of grounding and support that I value and a jumping off point for thoughtful reflection, was pretty close to perfect.

Democracy, alive and well

With less fanfare and significantly fewer tears than in 2008, I walked the two blocks from my house to the neighborhood school that doubles as my polling station.  As the chilly, 7:30 am sun crept higher in the sky, a long line of residents in DC's Ward 4 gathered to vote.  Over an hour and a half later, my warm winter coat, hat, gloves, and scarf could not keep my toes from going numb (nor could they prevent the parking ticket that appeared on the windshield my car for "failure to properly affix registration stickers").

On a day when Nate Silver makes dizzyingly positive predictions about the national election and when I learned, to my great relief, that my mom voted in favor of same sex marriage in Maryland, it is difficult not to feel optimistic about the possibilities to come. No matter who prevails tonight, however, I simply hope that he leads our citizens forth to success, security, and opportunity; that he projects humility, confidence, and intellectual curiosity; and that he conducts our foreign affairs in a way that earns the respect and admiration of the world.

My feet are still cold, but I feel great.  Like the broad cross section of society present at the polls this morning, I proudly took part in the most important of civic duties.  That alone is reason to smile.

Along the shores of the Bosphorus

About a year ago, I bought an impromptu ticket to visit Istanbul between Christmas 2011 and New Year's Day 2012.  Though the city and, more broadly, Turkey both deserve a much longer visit, we packed as much as we could into a short time.  One of the most relaxing things we did during these busy few days was to take a cruise along the Bosphorus Strait, the body of water that slices through the city and separates the European side from the Asian.

The cruise lasted all afternoon, but the highlight was the sweeping view of the sunset over the spires and minarets of Sultanahmet, the Old City.  Cliched as it may be, there is something undeniably contemplative and peaceful about watching the world's progression from day to night.  From the warm light and long shadows of late afternoon spring vibrant streaks of orange, crimson, and purple before all gives way to a graceful darkness, like the soft, inevitable lowering of the curtain after an engaging performance.  And in that reflective moment, all is beautiful, and heartbreaking, and good.

Blue line to Houlton

This map, posted on a website called Visual.ly is a graphic look at America's major interstates, represented as numbered subway lines.  Very compellingly done, in my opinion.  Also, for some reason, visualizing highways as commuter train lines seems to shorten sprawling cross-country distances into very manageable journeys.  As in: if I just hopped on the Blue Line toward Houlton and transferred to the Green Line in Boston, I could be in Seattle in no time.

To see a larger, higher resolution copy, visit Visual.ly directly and click on the map.

An early spring

It is now officially spring, though, judging by the weather, winter checked out sometime around the end of February.  Aside from the occasional rainstorm, we have had three weeks of nearly perfect weather.  I can't remember the last time that's happened, in any season.

Despite the apparently nasty, cascading ecological consequences of a warm, nearly snowless winter, I am basking in it for the moment.  And, in our backyard, the lack of cold has had a bonus effect on last year's garden: the parsley, arugula and rosemary survived and are now thriving in all of their spring glory.

Our rosemary has actually survived a couple years now - I think it is quite hardy, though its size is limited by the shallow window box that it calls home.  But parsley is not supposed to be a year-round plant.  I should not be able to walk out the backdoor with a dusting of snow on the ground in January and fetch a handful of fresh parsley to garnish a pot of lentil soup.  Yet I cooked with it throughout the winter and here it is, standing tall and approaching bush-like vitality in March.  Let's see if my brown thumb can keep it alive through the actual growing season.

Parsley: Too Bushy for March

Dinner with some true loves

To celebrate Valentine's Day, my roommates and I sat down for a candelit dinner with some of the true loves of our lives: meatloaf and mashed potatoes.  Broccoli tagged along too, just for kicks.

All that we see or seem

As I've noted before, I love when I am up early enough to hear the Writer's Almanac.  The poignant poem for today, Edgar Allan Poe's "A Dream Within a Dream," nearly brought me to tears in the car.  Although, maybe that says more about me than the poem.

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! Can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream

And isn't the music beautiful?  Rest in peace, Jim.