Knowing what I want

Last night, children, husband, and I converged at the house about 7:15 pm from different practices and events. We were all hot, tired, and hungry.  My husband grumbled because I didn't order pizza, even though I thought about it. I grouched back because I had been listening to a screaming baby for the last half hour and couldn't make a phone call in the car.

Then he pulled lobster out of the refrigerator.

Ah, fresh lobster for dinner! Elegant, refined, succulent and delicious! I'm supposed to be thrilled.

But all I saw was a fishy mess ready to be made, complaints from the kids ready to be heard, and my own hunger unsatisfied.

I wanted a nice soft-boiled egg on toast, not lobster.

But then another kid called because he couldn't get a ride home, and I volunteered to go get him. I'd make my egg when I got home.

On the way to the pick-up, I applauded myself for 1. Walking away from a ticking time bomb of an argument.  2. Knowing what I want.

Being decisive is a victory for me.  I am now mature enough to admit that I don't really like shellfish.  It's chewy and unsatisfying.  I do like shrimp, and I have had scallops perfectly prepared once.  But although I love a good piece of salmon or trout, I do not prefer crustaceans and shellfood.  Perhaps it is a cultivated taste that I haven't indulged in enough, but I like to think I have given shellfish a try over and over, on the East Coast, on the West Coast, in the midwest, in Europe, in Japan, and on Guam.  And I am still halfhearted about it.

I'd rather have a tasty, filling egg over lobster caught the night before by my resourceful, lobster-trap-loving brother-in-law.

But when I got home, the lobster was cooked with some fusilli in olive oil and rosemary, so I lined up behind the kids with my plate and was served my portion, joined them at the back patio table illuminated by the full moon and ate it. And it was good. A little chewy, yes, but the rosemary cut the fishiness. My husband, his good spirits and blood sugar restored with protein and pasta and a pumpkin ale, delighted in the compliments from the kids.  I didn't withhold my thanks and admiration, although I didn't pitch in on the clean-up. (The baby!)

So now I add a third lesson: 3.Let the person most concerned decide.  And 4. Eat what you are given. And 5. Give thanks for a husband who likes to cook, and kids who can do the dishes.

Meanwhile, my decision making faculties remained moderately impaired.  An article in the WSJ last week perfectly described my husband and me - he the satisficer, me the maximizer.  He can make a decision on the fly, without regrets or thinking twice.  I usually have to investigate all the options, compare prices from several providers, look into alternative solutions, etc.  Together we balance each other out.  We have some big decisions looming that are tougher than what's for dinner, but if the past 18 years are any indication, we'll make them eventually and all will be well.  Sometimes at the end of the day, our hard edges are exposed and our faculty for understanding is weakened by hunger and exhaustion, but a good meal and a moment on the back patio with a bright night sky and a full stomach (and sometimes full glasses) does a great deal to restore that balance.

Recipe successes: food from the yard

This past weekend included some social functions that involved tasty snacks. After my husband tried to go a week without eating sugar, the temptations of the weekend were too difficult to resist.  But sweets weren't the only delicious items: I'm happy to report some successes with food from our backyard.  So some food notes: 

First event: Ok, I have to admit I didn't make this appetizer, but I'm getting my kids to make it in the future.  (Short on time, I just brought Trader Joe's herbed goat cheese and pita crackers to the meet and greet we went to on Friday.) But this would be so easy to do: take grape tomatoes, (which are coming to an end in our garden right now, but I am going to have the kids start some new plants,) and cut them in half and layer them with a basil leaf (my basil needs some fertilizer but is still healthy) and a slice of mozzarella string cheese (or good mozzarella if you are nice.) The lady who brought them left them plain, but I like the balsamic drizzle.  And slicing isn't really even necessary.  

On Saturday we went with the cousins to the Goleta Lemon Festival. This was a slightly disappointing event. My sister-in-law and I were hoping for an abundance of lemon themed food: some lemon curd, lemon marmalade, lemon steak, lemon delight, lemon lemon...  Well, the festival was a bit smaller than we expected.  There were more people on the soccer fields at the other end of the park than there were at the lemon fest. But we did sample lemon beer, lemon cotton candy, lemon ices, and lemon pie.  The lemon bars didn't look nearly as good as the ones I make with my grandmother's recipe, so we passed on those.  The lemon cotton candy tasted like lemonade mix whipped into a fluff.  The girls loved it.  They also loved the idea of trying out the array of bouncy houses, but we bargained them down.  Who wants to pay $5 for 5 minutes of bouncing when you can jump for free at every other birthday party?  Instead we gave them each $3 for a flower headband from one of the little booths (NOT lemon themed: most were local insurance companies, cable providers, and health supporting industries offering free pens and magnets, with a couple vendors of tchotchkes from China.) The highlight of the afternoon was watching a group of girls from the local dance school perform flamenco dances. Wish I had a photo to share. The girls looked beautiful in their brilliant dresses, red lipstick, and bright flowers pinned in their dark hair. Our girls were fascinated by the concept of fake eyelashes -were they wearing them or were they not? 

Hungry for more lemon foods, I asked a bored kid back at home to try making lemon meringue pie for our dinner than night with the cousins.  Success!  My 14 year old son (with help on the crust and meringue from Dad) made the lemon meringue pie recipe from Grandma's Joy of Cooking.  I could have eaten the entire thing myself.  The crust was a little underdone, but the filling was lemony perfection. Way better than what we bought for $3 a slice at the fair.  Our lemon tree produces a very sweet little lemon that made a light colored filling.  It isn't as sour as some varieties, so I think it is a Meyer lemon, but I'm not sure. It produces all year round. I've been watering it lately because I don't want it to perish in the drought. 

I didn't take a picture of the boys' pie, but here is an idea:

And the recipe from Joy of Cooking for the filling: 

The Lemon Filling

Ingredients for the filling

• 1 9-inch pie crust
• 1 ½ cups sugar
• 6 tablespoons cornstarch
• ¼ teaspoon salt
• ½ cup cold water
• ½ cup fresh squeezed lemon juice (3 large. lemons)
• 4 each large egg yolks, well beaten
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
• 1 ½ cups boiling water
• 1 teaspoons lemon zest, grated

Procedure steps for filling 

1. Using a fork poke holes in the sides and bottom of the crust every few inches or so to allow air to escape while baking, thus preventing the crust from bubbling. Bake the crust in a 425° F oven for 20 minutes or until evenly browned. Remove and cool the crust. Turn oven temperature down to 350° F. (Now go to step 1 in the meringue section below.)

2. Combine the sugar and cornstarch in a 2-3 quart saucepan.

3. Gradually blend in until smooth the cold water and fresh lemon juice.

4. Add the egg yolks and blend thoroughly then add the butter and fold in stirring constantly.

5. While stirring gently slowly add the boiling water. Bring to a boil and allow thickening slightly, reducing the heat to very low and simmering slowly for 1 minute.

6. Fold in the lemon zest then pour into the baked pie shell.

7. Spread the meringue (see recipe below) onto the outside edges and anchoring it to the crust and filling, then working toward the center with the remaining meringue. Use a rubber spatula to create peaks throughout the top of the meringue. Bake for 20 minutes in the 350° F oven or until meringue peaks are golden brown.

8. Cool completely on a rack and then serve or refrigerate for up to 3 days.

Since I'm holding a sleeping baby, I'm not getting up from the computer to fetch my cookbook and copy the recipe exactly but this blog claims this is the Joy of Cooking recipe: from http://morethanburnttoast.blogspot.com/2011/08/classic-lemon-meringue-pie-from-irma-s.html

The other event we cooked for was Sunday dinner for 3 families from my husband's work.  He decided to publicize this party as a bacon-themed dinner, so someone brought bacon wrapped jalapenos and cauliflower and bacon salad, we had bacon mashed potatoes and bacon wrapped pork tenderloin, someone else brought bacon and cheese and tator tot casserole, and the other family brought a salad with kale, peppers, peanuts and bacon bits.  We also had bacon bits to mash into guacamole.  The guacamole was devoured. We've been getting avocados from our tree for several months now and while production has slowed down, we're still able to gather a few ripe ones regularly.  Again, I'm not sure of the variety.  These avocados are HUGE and mild. I think they might be the "Mayo" variety or "Choquette."   I've been experimenting with guacamole and this batch turned out pretty well: used a generous amount of lemon juice, Camp Dog Cajun seasoning, garlic powder and cumin.  I probably won't be able to replicate the results because each batch has a different ripeness and quantity of seasoning, but the Cajun seasoning added a really good zing. 

http://ucavo.ucr.edu/Images/Varieties/Mayo.jpg

So we've been eating deliciously if not healthfully. I've got a couple friends who are doing detox diets and are very enthusiastic about how great they feel and how they don't feel deprived on these restrictive diets.  They seem convinced, but I believe part of their excitement is related to the fact that they are paying a premium for supplements while doing the detox.  You know how you always LOVE something you pay a lot for? A car, a stereo, a blender -- I call this the Vitamix effect, although I'm sure psychologists have a better name.  

In a similar vein, last week the moms' group at church hosted a chiropractor who advocates for natural living - very Californian. Her enthusiasm almost has me convinced to try drinking apple cider vinegar mixed with honey and water and to take colloidal silver to prevent infections.  But life without lemon desserts and rich appetizers seems too bland.  It's almost time to start feeding the baby real food, and I know I'll try to withhold sugar from her as long as possible, but even though sugar seems to be at the root of so many health problems, it provides so much sweetness to life that I believe to deprive her of the joy of dessert would be akin to sending her out in the cold without a coat.  Lemon pie, chocolate, coffee, wine, guacamole -- small vices that yield great delights. We all need something to help us through dark days. 

Hosting amidst chaos

As I mentioned in the last post, the past few weeks have been full to the brim. In addition to all the running around, we've also spent a nice chunk of time entertaining friends, which is both a delight and a distraction.  Having company to dinner requires a lot of last minute scrubbing at our house in preparation, even if the entire place was scrubbed just a few days before.  Dusting, shuffling papers, washing dirty dishes, vacuuming, wiping soppy sinks. . . I think my grandmother did these chores every day, but how did she have time for that?

I'm also hesitant to invite people over because our house is not exactly conducive to entertaining. We have waterstained sinks and toilets, small rooms, uncomfortable chairs, and dim lighting and no climate controls.  I don't think the state of this house would bother me so much if we hadn't lived in other houses that were more spacious with updated bathrooms. And if I weren't prideful. This house is good for practicing humility and humbleness - we've had to creatively reconfigure or donate some things. Plus, we have teen-aged boys. Phew.  Fortunately, we have a back patio; otherwise, we'd rarely have people over.

Then there is the hurdle of planning the menu when company is coming.  Any allergies? What do I have time to make? What will the company like? Do I have to go to the grocery?

It's enough to discourage a person from inviting people over at all.

But we like to get invited to other people's houses, so every once in a while I feel compelled to entertain at our house.

Plus, there are people we like to hang out with but who either are intimidated by inviting our large family over or they are more averse to the preparation than we are, so if we want to spend time with them, we invite them over.

This article that  Melanie linked to by an episcopal priest from Knoxville struck a chord as he writes about "scruffy hospitality," which means not waiting until everything is perfect to have people over. Friends who have to have perfect cleanliness or require a dinner experience off the food channel aren't real friends.  We'd like to give our friends that, but we'd rather spend time with them than not. A good dinner and conversation bring joy to everyone and create community and friendship.  We really aren't that close to our new friends until we've eaten with them.  As Knoxpriest writes:

Scruffy hospitality means you’re not waiting for everything in your house to be in order before you host and serve friends in your home. Scruffy hospitality means you hunger more for good conversation and serving a simple meal of what you have, not what you don’t have. Scruffy hospitality means you’re more interested in quality conversation than the impression your home or lawn makes. If we only share meals with friends when we’re excellent, we aren’t truly sharing life together.

Don’t allow a to-do list disqualify you from an evening with people you’re called to love in friendship. Scheduling is hard enough in our world. If it’s eating with kind, welcoming people in a less than perfect house versus eating alone, what do you think someone would choose? We tell our guests ‘come as you are,’ perhaps we should tell ourselves ‘host as you are.’

So a couple of weeks ago we practiced this idea, although I read the article after making the invite to have our priest over for dinner. He is new at our parish this year, and is an interim pastor on loan from the Philippines. Our first Mass at the parish was his first Mass last summer, so we have felt a sort of kinship with him. I like to have priests over because then the kids see them being human. They open up and talk. They show off a little bit, but often they enjoy the meal as much as we do, even though they initially wish for kid company. Meanwhile, I think our priest enjoyed the time to relax and eat with company.

A couple days before he came over, we had a birthday party at the park for our 8 year old. I'm done with parties now for a long time until the baby begs and pleads. Having the party at the park was supposed to make things easy, but lugging over all the food and supplies was more complicated than I thought. 

Our most successful recent foray into entertaining was hosting a Navy family who just moved here from Naples.  They are staying in a hotel for a month or so until their house is available.  Remembering how grateful we were to get invited to a bbq while we were crammed into the 2 bedroom apartment for a month, I invited them over for a spontaneous burger night.  (The nice part about "Spontaneous" is that you give up on perfection because you don't have time for it.) Chips, burgers, beans, and brownies: easy, kid friendly food. Tossed up a salad with fresh tomatoes for a healthy choice.  

We knew this family slightly when we lived in Mississippi, but we didn't really keep in touch, and our kids had never met.  They have five kids about the same ages as ours. It's wonderful when you find family friends who have a kid friend for each kid in the family.  This family doesn't have a baby, and you never know how teenagers are going to hit it off, but this time the chemistry was right. Nine year old boys can meet and say: "Legos" or "Star Wars" or "Minecraft" and they are instant friends.  Eleven year old girls stare at each other for awhile and then decide each other is okay. Fortunately, both of our fourteen year old boys are comfortable in their own skin, despite being not quite typical, so they hit it off. Sixteen year olds take longer to open up, and I wasn't sure how the crowd was going to mix, but perhaps because of the shared military lifestyle or the interest in BBC shows or the ability to commiserate about younger siblings, they were able to find enough to talk about to make a connection. As the other family left, their eleven year old daughter said, "Thanks for dinner. It wasn't nearly as miserable as I expected!"  A compliment from a kid used to attending "mandatory fun" events. 

The other event we hosted was a "teenager party." Our two older boys are close enough in age and personality that they share many of the same friends. They have received multiple invitations from their friends for dinner and movies, so I felt like it was our turn to host. Plus, one of their best friends was moving this summer, so I wanted to do a goodbye party for her. I also needed to cook the ribeye roast her mom had given me while cleaning out her freezer before the move.  (A nice piece of meat. And a nice perk of Navy friends: you benefit from their cabinet clean-outs. I also inherited crema de caballero - the Spanish version of Baileys. Yum.)  I avoided cleaning by having everyone over to the in-laws for paddleboarding and a cookout on the channel. My husband's brother and sister-in-law were heading out of town and said we could use their place, which is much nicer than ours. They have water access. So 10-15 teenagers  and a few parents came over. We mostly stayed on their back patio, which is right on the water, and drank wine and indulged in small talk.  

The boys weren't necessarily thrilled about the idea. They just want to "hang out" without younger siblings around.  I made some salads and roasted potatoes and burned a lemon blueberry cake to go with it. Fortunately, another family made dessert, and I had stuff for s'mores, so there was plenty to eat. We got wood for the fire pit and sodas and set up the paddle boards and kayaks.   I think the kids had fun. Sometimes it's hard to tell, but they laughed and talked till late, and we enjoyed getting to know some of the parents.

After each one of these dinners, I lay awake and tallied all the things that didn't go as planned.   I was exhausted. I'm not naturally an extrovert, so coming up with conversation starters wears on me. But my husband thrives on company, so I've grown into being more social.  I like cooking, but mess things up by experimenting. I don't get into the small detail part of hosting a party like my friend does who gives coordinated party favors.  We usually invite families over when we entertain, so the level of noise and the quantity of food escalates.  Sometimes conversation lulls amid the chaos.

But despite my anxieties and second guessing, these dinners are usually fun for me as well as the kids, and I hope for our company. After each of these events we feel a little closer to these people. My sister-in-law once said she wouldn't friend anyone on Facebook she hadn't had dinner with. A little restrictive, but there is an intimacy you feel with people whom you've hosted and fed.  Entertaining requires a certain openness to vulnerability. People can see your piles and photos and art and dirty dishes.  But they also see that you want to be friends.  It's Eucharistic.  The labor is worth the reward of sitting on the back porch with a glass of wine and friends. 

Soon I get to be a guest for a time - tomorrow we leave for summer vacation! 

Copying from GretchenJoanna and posting photos of my neighbor's pretty roses.
An act of hospitality by the people on the corner of the street.

Does it have to be pretty to taste good?

On a recent trip to the flea market, I picked up what I thought were the local sweet potatoes. But I discovered when I sliced through the skin after baking them for an hour that I actually bought the purple-fleshed taro root. I had bought some before and tried to prepare it like a baked potato, but it was incredibly dry.  Disappointed, I stuck the baked taro in the refrigerator for a few days, until I finally tired of moving them out of the way.  Rather than just trash them, I found some recipes in old cookbooks my mother-in-law sent me.  I combined a couple recipes to make taro muffins. Fortunately, we have a stack of coconuts piled up on the side of the house, so I sent my 12 year old out to husk and grate one.  He was happy to oblige - who wouldn't want to set aside school work to impale coconuts on a husking spike and then whack them with a machete?

The resulting muffins were ugly and misshapen but tasted delicious with a texture like cake combined with a sweet chewy crumb.  I’ll probably never be able to duplicate the recipe, but it was something like this:

4 baked and mashed taro roots

Milk (about 1.5 cups?) and grated flesh (1 cup?) of a coconut

3 c. flour (I used part wheat flour)

2T baking powder

1 tsp salt

½ c sugar

6 T melted butter

2 eggs

Some nutmeg and cinnamon to taste

Mash taro with dry ingredients, add wet ingredients, blend and bake at 375 for about 20 minutes.  Then enjoy eating 75% of them before anyone else in the family catches on that they actually taste good. 

Unguilty pleasures

I've been indulging again in juvenile fiction...

Firrst Word after Word after Word by Patricia MacLachlan -

Sometimes MacLachlan can be a bit too sweet. But I can't read her picture book All the Places to Love without crying, even when I'm not pre-menstrual. Her new chapter book for young readers was sentimental, but I was drawn into the story, and even better, my 9 yr old, who only wants to read Judy Moody or Harry Potter books, liked it.  Hurrah! Word after Word after Word is Maclachlan's response in novel form to "Why do you write" questions. I felt like I was in the classroom with the students, silent, listening to the mesmerizing voice of Ms. Mirabel.  My throat thickened when the fictional author dumps a bag of prairie dirt on the table and exclaims "This .... is landscape!"

Suddenly, I'm back home. I want to gather all that dirt up in my hands and shove it in my back pocket.  A touch of homesickness. A longing to return. The slightest twinge of regret that we didn't plunk down some theoretical cash for a rectangle of dirt in southern Indiana, and then pack some up in a Ziploc to bring along.

But here we are. And someday we'll miss here, I suppose. I appreciate that yesterday was one of those breezy, sunny days that brought hordes of kids out to the playground in the middle of November.  And I love the way you can just stick a twig in the ground, and it will sprout.  And nothing quite compares to the shock of discovery when you dunk your face underwater in the coral reef, and what looks like a bunch of rocks from the surface becomes a kaleidoscopic fantasyland of living creatures.

But the dirt is red here. If you dumped in out of a plastic baggie, it would thunk, all clumped together. It's clay.  It's resistant to movement.

Maclachlan admits in the author's notes that this book is somewhat autobiographical, and that she really has bags of dirt on her desk and next to her bed and in her pocketbook to remind her "of where I began as a child and the stories I brought with me." I have a friend who has a collection of sand in bottles from all the beaches she's visited.  Ms. Cash, the classroom teacher, has a bottle of ocean water. We've got quite a collection of little shells from past duty stations and vacations. But I wish I had a little bag of dirt to open and sniff every once in a while like a black organic drug, a sedative.

I suppose this emotional response was just what Maclachlan was after when she decided to write about words, "the writer's tool."

The other book I just consumed was When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead, which was the Newberry winner a couple years ago, and the subject of a number of favorable reviews.  For a couple chapters, I questioned the reviews - the book is set in a gritty NYC apartment in the 70s, and the main character a sixth grade girl.  Where is this going to go? The way of Francesca Baby, that awful example of Scholastic after-school-special literature we had to read in 7th grade so we'd sympathize with children of alcoholics?

Fortunately, it doesn't go that way. Miranda, the main character, becomes more likable, and although the book starts out feeling like a melodrama, it makes a shift for the better. It's hard to describe without giving away the surprise plot element, which may be why it hasn't been selling like some of the fantasy fiction for preteens, a least that I know of. I wonder if kids who hadn't read A Wrinkle in Time would enjoy it though.

The apparent naturalism of this book did remind me of an reading by Norman Juster in honor of the 50th anniversary of The Phantom Tollboth on NPR last week.  He made the remark that at the time he had finished his book, publishers weren't interested in fantasy. They were afraid it would disorient children.  Now fantasy books take up 85% of the shelf space in the YA section.

And finally an unguilty pleasure that tastes like a guilty one: Chocolate Zucchini cake. A nod to the cuisine of my past. A guaranteed way to make kids like eating zucchini. Made some today in order to appease my twinge of homesickness.  A more appealing evocation of midwestern dirt than dirt.

Chocolate Zucchini Cake with chocolate chips:

1 c. sugar 

1/2 c. butter

2 eggs

1 tsp vanilla

2 1/2 c. flour

1/2 c sour cream (I used vanilla yogurt, since I didn't have sour cream)

1/4 c. cocoa

1 tsp soda

2 c. shredded zuke (I used two grocery sized - a little more than 2 cups)

6 oz. chocolate chips

1 c. nuts if you like them. 

Mix it all together and bake at 350 in a 13x9 pan for 40-45 mins or until done.

Can you see the zucchini?

Adventures with Tofu

As I showed my ID to the checker at the commissary last week, she announced, “Cases of tofu for $1.”  Behind her on a flat were about two dozen cases of tofu. 

I had passed by and was headed to the produce section before what she said registered.

Cases for $1.

I don’t have any love for tofu. Does anyone? I knew what my husband would say when he saw 12 packages of tofu in the refrigerator. But $1!?!

No one else was picking them up, so in an effort to be a good steward and help the commissary dispose of their overstock, I added a case to my cart.

It has been well worth $1 to experiment with this gelatinous soybean product.  The first package went into a traditional stir-fry: frozen mixed vegetables, soy sauce, sesame oil, chunks of tofu. Everyone complained, but they ate it, albeit reluctantly.

The second box went into a smoothie: frozen mixed fruit, milk, OJ, tofu, a couple packs of stevia.  My teenagers and their friend sucked them down. I didn’t tell them until later what was in them.  At first my 14 yr old berated me for hoodwinking them, but I tried to remind him that tofu is good for building muscles.

Another box got mixed into a batch of chili. I thought the tofu would take on the color of the tomato sauce, but it stayed whitish. So I told the kids those white chunks were like pieces of cheese.  The 5 and 7 yr olds were deceived, and the older kids kept the silence because they were hungry and the tofu was in small enough chunks not to be noticed.

Box 4 went into chocolate mousse.  I loosely followed a recipe my vegetarian friend gave me after I gave her 5 boxes of tofu.  And actually, this mousse is pretty tasty and a nice texture. And easy! Melt chocolate chips and then add melted chocolate, the tofu, a couple tablespoons of cocoa to the blender with a sweetener and blend until smooth and fluffy. Then chill a couple hours before devouring. The recipe calls for maple syrup, but I didn’t have any. I thought it would be ruining the integrity of the tofu to use corn syrup, so I used my last teaspoon of honey, a little molasses and some stevia packets. Unfortunately, the molasses taste is noticeable, but not enough to slow anyone down from eating this fluffy stuff. I can barely call it dessert. It’s nutritious!

So now I’m down to my last couple packets of tofu.  At least one will go into another smoothie tomorrow afternoon.  Suggestions for the last box?

Food and other differences

Another quick takes on some things we have discovered about life on Guam:

1. Our life has changed in many ways since we left the continental United States. I now pay $4.50 for 3 quarts of milk. That's at the commissary. Not organic, not even fresh, but ultra-heat pasteurized.  I thought at first I was buying a gallon in a trim container, and then I read the oz’s. Ouch. 

2. I also cannot discover fresh chicken at our commissary, even though there are scrawny chickens running wild all over the place here. I'm not sure if anyone actually eats these things or gathers their eggs or keeps them just for looks.  My kids keep trying to catch the ones that slip under the fence into our area. They probably taste gamey.

3.I also am a little mystified by the fact that bananas are $1.19/lb and are shipped from South America. There are banana trees everywhere here.  We have a baby one in our back yard. My kids tell me their friend said these things are plaintains, but they look like and taste like bananas to me.

4. Mangoes are also shipped from South America, although I’m told the mangoes here are delicious.  They are out of season though. Right now the papayas are ripening, but the one we tried was not particularly sweet. The papaya we tried to transplant collapsed the other day. 

5. One last grocery note: I will not pay $2.99/lb for sweet potatoes. When I saw the $17.83 charge on the computer, I asked the checker to void them, even though it meant waiting for the manager. Later, I thought maybe I shouldn’t be so cheap. Sweet potatoes are really good for you. But are they as good as a nice bottle of wine?

6.We are still wearing t-shirts, shorts and swimming suits nearly every day. I keep seeing pictures of people on facebook wearing jackets and talking about apple picking.  None of that here.  Plaintains, anyone?

7. As far as I can tell, we do not have any deciduous trees here. I’m not sure how one could tell if it never gets cool enough for leaves to fall.  This makes it a little difficult to work on a tree identification project for school. BUT we do have a variety of palm trees. Such a variety I did not know existed. We have coconut palms with green and yellow coconuts (apparently the yellow variety is male – or female – or medicinal.). We have palms with little red things – undried dates? We have Manila palms with no fruit. We have palms that don’t have trunks. I don’t know all the kinds we have, but they are starting to grow on me since they look so pretty in a sunset photo. I'm going to have to work on getting a good shot though. 

Some other notes:

• Although we live on a small island, it can take a long time to get places you don't really want to go, like soccer practice. Rain doesn’t stop outdoor play. 
• Tile floors are great for cleaning up mud, but not for echoes. I thought hanging pictures and laying rugs would help but I think I need banners. 
• If you go snorkeling, hot dogs make great bait.  Little colorful fish swarm in from all directions. But if you don’t want to attract barricudas, use corn instead.
• You really can eat fresh yellow fin tuna raw and not get sick.
• No recycling of paper here - someone needs to seize the opportunity to develop a paper recycling plant.
• Red rice is a dish served at nearly every meal here.  I’ve heard it is colored red from a pepper powder, but it is not spicy. It’s a little extra sticky and almost tastes bready. But what we have all been loving is jasmine rice. I'm not sure what makes jasmine rice different, but it has a cleaner rice taste and is slightly stickier. Needless to say, we've been eating a lot of rice.

See Jen at www.conversiondiary.com for more. It's her anniversary, and I think updates are in store.

What we’ve been eating

Tonight is our last night in the hotel: tomorrow we move into housing and return to cooking food at home. Well, at least in a couple of days. We’ll probably eat frozen pizza or quesadillas or scrambled until we get settled in. Only our advance shipment has arrived, and even though we’ll receive “boonie furniture” from the base, we won’t have a lot of cookware to work with.

I think I’m most excited about not having to pay for laundry services. The washer that comes with the house is a brand-new “colossal” sized machine by GE. Can’t wait to try it out!

But it is with mixed emotions that we’ll give up our per diem allowance for food. We’ve been eating well the past few days, although we also have had a few disappointing meals, also. I don’t love spending lots of money on food that is often not as good as what we could make if we had a kitchen. Sometimes I’m embarrassed to admit, my disapproval is obvious to my dinner companions. The kids have figured out that we check menus before we sit down in a restaurant.

We finally came up with a kind of routine: We have cereal or fruit in the mornings with shelf-stable milk, complimentary hotel coffee and juice, which we eat out on the balcony. Then in the afternoons we make peanut butter or turkey sandwiches, with apples and snacks from the little grocery, and eat in the room or on the road, depending on the schedule. Sometimes we stop for smoothies or ice cream treats, but at $3 for an ice cream cone or $5 for a smoothie, that is only very occasionally. Then each night we walk out of our hotel and try a different restaurant with prices under $15. We try to avoid chains and hotel restaurants, but since we’re living in the tourist zone, we did eat at a couple chain restaurants. Once we walked into Planet Hollywood, but walked out after seeing hamburgers on the menu were $17.95.

Our best meals have been at restaurants that are a step up from cheap, without being in the “fancy” range. Actually, I think my favorite was the night we ate at the Chamorro Village: every Wednesday one of the towns hosts a sort of flea market kind of event. Food vendors sell barbecue kabobs, rice mixes, grilled meats and vegetables, smoothies, desserts, and coconuts, while other kiosks sell tourist tchotke: jewelry, Hawaiian shirts, colorful sundresses, statues, keychains, you name it. Two stages have performances by dancers and musicians. On one corner you can ride on a carabao, and on another you can pet a monitor lizard or hold a coconut crab. By the time we left the place was packed with Japanese tourists arriving by bus. But it was probably the most fun evening we’ve had so far. I loved my chicken kelaguen, which is a kind of chicken salad with a sweet vinegar dressing, onions, cilantro, lime, and something else – maybe coconut milk. I’ll have to find a recipe.  But I was less fond of the seafood and mushroom side I had with my meal – I’m not a huge lover of tentacles.

My husband had been eager to eat sushi, so we had oriental food multiple nights, but the best meal was a couple nights ago at a restaurant that offered “sushi sets” and “bento boxes” with samples of different sushi and Japanese appetizers. I had futomaki, which was large and fresh.  Loved it, and the older boys loved their sushi sets with a variety of sashimi and vegetable rolls, pickled vegetables, and tempura shrimp and vegetables. The girls stuck with California rolls, but they tasted fresh and sweet. Meanwhile, the 7 yr old, who is the only kid in the family who doesn’t love sushi, ordered Sushi Spam and fell in love. Although I am morally opposed to Spam, it is a staple on the island. Supposedly Guam is the largest consumer of potted meats in the world. One aisle at the grocery is lined with different varieties of Spam. I don’t intend to buy it for the house, but I’m willing to let the kids sample local cuisine.

Last night I picked a Thai restaurant that has been crowded every time we’ve passed by, and now we know why. The service is slow, but the food is fabulous: fresh and flavorful. We all wanted to lick our plates when we were done. We ordered traditional meals: phat thai, lemongrass chicken, rice noodle soup, but each had a slight twist. My chicken seemed slightly sautéed instead of cooked in sauce, the phat thai wasn’t overwhelmed by peanut sauce. The picky seven year old gobbled up mango fried rice.

Our dinner tonight was perhaps our most unusual. It was again my husband’s turn to pick, and he had been wanting to try Korean. I had ruled out a place that was next to a dance club, so we decided to splurge on our last night and eat at a hotel down the street. This was not typical hotel fare, however. We were the only Americans there, and it was obvious that we didn’t understand Korean food when we ordered. The waitress attempted to explain several times that we couldn’t order what we asked for without ordering something else, although her English skills were only a little better than our Korean. We knew we didn’t want the beef tongue or tripe dishes, but we wanted to try something authentic, so we finally ordered a couple of items that were pricier than our usual limit, but fortunately decided to share, as we quickly realized they were meant to be.

Not only was this one of our most delicious meals, it was also one of the most fun.  First the waitress served tiny dishes of different relishes: seaweed, kimchi, tiny broccoli with red pepper sauce, pickled bean sprouts. We weren’t sure if we should eat them or not until we slyly peeked at our fellow diners and watched how they ate. Then on one end of the table the waitress set a grill and at the other a Bunsen burner. The boys had ordered meat that they had to grill themselves, and the youngers and my husband and I shared a hot pot with beef and mushrooms – those thin white ones that grow in bunches. It all was served raw, until we poured it into the broth in the pot on the burner. On son had a dish that was a hot pottery bowl that cooked his meal as he stirred it.  Everything was flavorful and delicious. We all decided that if any relatives or friends come to visit us, this is one of the places we’d like to take them.

So tomorrow back to shopping at the grocery.  Fortunately the commissary does carry some international foods: we’ve tried seaweed chips (high in omega 6!) and coconut water soda. We plan to go back to the Chamorro village multiple times to try different foods. And we’re hoping to plant a banana tree and a mango tree in our backyard.  We’ve already got a coconut tree. I have to admit that I don’t love coconuts myself, but I do like the little coconut cookies we’ve sampled. Perhaps I’ll grow to like them more the longer we live on the island.

7 Quick Takes In the Kitchen Edition

1. Came in the door the other day and thought the dog had killed a rodent which was decomposing in some corner. But it was only rotten potatoes. No maggots yet, like another bag I found last year.


2. Bananas have also been rotting quickly. I’ve made three batches of chocolate chip banana bread (made even healthier with flax and wheat germ) in the last 2 weeks. Mashing bananas has become a new favorite steam-releasing activity for my 6 year old, who either has post vacation depression or pre school angst, manifested by outbursts of violence and mayhem.



3. My neighbor has gifted me lately with a few treats, my favorite being fig preserves. Brown sugary goodness in a jar. But I wasted half of the jar on failed fig bars. Forgot about them while I talked on the phone and ironed. I debated taking her some and asking for another jar of preserves. But then I thought she might be offended that I so carelessly overcooked her figs. I’ve been eating the middles of the bars and tossing the top and bottom, even though the preserves in the middle caramelized and are slightly crunchy.

4. The same neighbor showed me where to help myself to the across-the-street neighbors’ basil and blueberries. These neighbors moved out last month and haven’t been able to sell their house. We’re just pruning to help things look tidy…



Being a native Midwesterner, I associate blueberries with Michigan, so I was surprised they do so well here, in such a different climate. Just saying Michigan makes me miss the pleasant summers there. At least we have blueberries – and figs.



5. Made a huge batch of blender pesto, only I had to substitute pecans for pine nuts since the commissary doesn’t stock pignoli, and since this is the south and all. Mixed some in the mayo for a potato salad I made last weekend for a party with some of the wives from the regiment. This was a winning combo, which semi made up for the failed fig bars.



6. Even though the last time I grilled I charred everything, for some reason I thought it would be a good idea to grill hamburgers and hot dogs for this same party. The igniter on the grill doesn’t work, so I have to use a butane lighter to get the flame going. Maybe because the grill hadn’t been used in so long, or maybe because I couldn’t get the butane lighter lit while gas was filling the grill, whatever the reason, when I finally did get the flame close to the grill I caused a flash of fire that singed my arm hair, my eyebrows, and all my grey head hairs in front. So that night I got a little crazy with the scissors and trimmed not only the singed hair but the hair all the way around. I don’t think it turned out too badly. And since I spent all the discretionary income from the next couple of months on the car a/c, I wasn’t planning to go to the beauty shop any time soon, even though I talked big about getting highlights done before my husby returns. I probably would’ve hated them anyway.

7. My sister gave me these little crocks while I was at her house in June. Even though I’m trying to declutter, I like these little guys, useless as they may be. They add color to my brown kitchen. My sister is better at reducing clutter than I am, and she regularly fills bags to give away. But then she’s also better at shopping than me. I was happy also to get first pick at the cute shoes in her summer giveaway pile, although my 4 yr old has adopted the kitten heeled brown pumps. Cute enough to eat.

More quick takes here.

A matter of diction

While helping my sixth grader research Guyana for a major research project on a South American country, not of his choosing, we came across this delicious verse.  Uses a little different language than Shakespeare, but says pretty much the same thing.  Love in lyrics that even a sixth grade boy can understand and appreciate:

How Do I Love Thee - West Indian Style



You are the essence in my mauby
De fish in my fishcakes
I love you love you dearly
You are the lard oil in my bakes
You are the coconut in my sweetbread
De pigtail in my rice
Just like piece of curry goat head
I will love you till I dead.


You are the sardine in my gravy
The dumplings in my soup
I love you more than mi belly
Yes I love you bad fah true.


Like banana leaf around my conkie
I'll be always close to you
Sweet like sugar in your bush tea
I'll do anything for you.




You are the sauce around my Cou Cou
Hot like sweetbread when it done
I will stick to you like dandruff
Like the corns upon your toes
Like the fat around your belly
I'll be everywhere you goes


Cause you are my black pudding
And I know I am your souse
When you call I will come running
Like when a boar cat see a mouse.


Oh my pepper on my pork chop
Sweet like sorrel when it mix
When my hands caress your body
You feel just like a couple-six.


You are sweeter than a snowcone
I will give you all I own
You are sweeter than a hambone
Soft and sweet like piece'o'pone.
No one can take me from you
Not in this life or death
My Panya girl I love you
It's just your mudda me cant tek.


(Just so you know, I have no complaints with my mudda-in-law. I'm blessed in that department.) I know a place to get fishcakes and hambone with mi esposo when he gets home...

Something different

Although Lent is supposed to be a time of simple eating, we’ve been eating well. I've baked more bread and muffins and tried new recipes: Last night it was chicken and pasta with a peanut sauce from our favorite easy cookbook, Southern Living Kids Cookbook, adapted for what we had on hand. The sauce is mostly soy sauce (1/2 c), a little sesame oil (2 or 3 tsp), and peanut butter (about ½ c) whisked together (I eyeballed the quantity because I was doubling the chicken and pasta). Then add shredded carrots and chopped peanuts. The recipe called for red pepper and green onion, neither of which I had, so I used finely chopped yellow onion and edamame. I loved it, and 4 out of 6 kids gave it a thumbs up.

The same response was merited by “Papa with Chakalaka” a recipe from the CRS rice bowl. For the papa you were supposed to make corn meal and round it into balls, but I was out of cornmeal, so I made grits to serve under the chakalaka, which is basically a sweet/spicy bean mix: You sauté onion and bell pepper in oil, add a diced chili pepper (I just used chili powder and a few pepper flakes) 2 tomatoes (I used a can of diced tomatoes), a grated carrot and a large can of baked beans, to which you add a hearty dose of curry powder and simmer for 15 minutes (or 45 like me because your son has a friend over, so you decide to make macaroni and cheese as a back up.)

My other experiment was with beef barley soup. I had some leftover chuck roast and cabbage after cooking for the priests at our parish. (Various volunteers cook for them on Saturdays. I tried to make an Irish meal, since 3 of 6 are Irish: roast, bubble and squeak, green beans, and Irish soda bread, which I could eat like cake. The Notre Dame coffee shop used to sell this dense, sweet hunk of soda bread, and I was so addicted to it that I wrote the food service and asked for the recipe. I was surprised when they sent it to me, but mine is never quite so dense as theirs because I can’t bring myself to bake with lard.) Anyway, in the soup the fat off the chuck roast soaked into the barley and the cabbage soaked in the flavor, too, so the end result was stewlike. Hearty and filling, but the cabbage and barley seemed to add a little Lenten spirit. And again, 4 out of 6 kids approved. The other 2 would be happy to exist on mac and cheese and peanut butter for the rest of their lives.