It's always time for soup
I went on an unplanned road trip to way Northern California from Friday to Monday, after exchanging emails with a college friend. I figured I had the time, and it was a good time for her, and who knows when that will happen again, so hey. It was interesting. I lived with this person in a cooperative house in the Rockridge district of Oakland during and right after my graduation from college, and since then I've gone on to move to the city and work in software while she and her husband run an organic farm outside Arcata (she also works at a local nursery to supplement their income). For me, it ended up being a weekend of thinking about the tradeoffs we all make in our lives.
My friend has both a strong affinity for working with her hands and a serious problem with The Man. I became friends with her when she was going through the UCB forestry program with my college boyfriend and college roommate. Despite the fact that it is part of a school with a notable hippie tradition and the coursework is heavily salted with conservation techniques, the UCB forestry program is designed to turn out future Weyerhauser and Georgia Pacific employees who know how to write up timber harvest plans, and that was not her thing, so after a brief post-graduation stab at working with river restoration, she went on to cobble together work with Americorps and local government agencies doing conservation education, along with work at farms and nurseries, before starting the farm with her husband. They live a really uncomplicated and utilitarian life--used clothing and furniture chosen for its function rather than its appearance, very little in the way of media entertainment (though they're not opposed to such things in principle), a deep connection to the land and the seasons, lots of time spent on manual labor, on work around the farm and on transforming what they grow and the basic staples they buy at the local co-op into food, and on making things they don't have the money to buy. They can do that because on the time/money continuum, they have time--no lengthy commutes or online timesucks or complicated errands, and no need to carve time out of the regular day to pursue beloved hobbies because they have made them into their work. They also live a fairly fragile life--the farm they have put years of work into building up is on rented land, and they have no health insurance, and they depend on a complex network of personal relationships and a lot of luck to acquire goods and services that they can't afford to pay money for. I admire them for what they do, but would die of unhappiness if I had to live like them; I live much more in my head, and on the opposite end of the time/money continuum. I appreciate the beauty of the landscape where they live, and the quiet of the woods, and the satisfaction of growing your own food, but I like living in the city, I like having a multitude of things a short walk or trainride away, I like the noise and the fast pace. I like my job with its abstractions and its high-pressure responsibilities and its problem-solving and thought-intensiveness, and because of that, I'm generally pretty happy with--or at least reconciled to--the tradeoffs I make between time and money. (Ironically, though, I drive far less than she does. The rural lifestyle, no matter how hippie, involves driving long distances to get anywhere.)
When we were living together, my friend and I both had the tendencies that have brought us to where we are now, and those have only strengthened and hardened over the years, pulling us in different directions on a lot of things. But we also have an important shared history, a lot of memories, and more in common than we should, and a lot of my attitudes about consumerism and the environment and food and the enjoyment of making things with your own hands were shaped by the time I was living in that house, and seem alien to many of the friends I have now. I made a lot of very different friends in college and have kept up those friendships despite the inevitable growing apart over time, but since then, it seems like I meet fewer and fewer people in RL who are significantly different from me. As I've gotten older, I've gotten less social, and my circle has narrowed. I didn't really appreciate, at the time, what a magically plastic time for friendship formation college was. And one of the things that has been nice about LJ is meeting people who don't work in software, who live different places, who do different things, although we all have fandom in common.
I had a lovely Thanksgiving in a very swank South of Market loft--a 20-pound roast turkey, ham, kielbasa with sauerkraut, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, wild mushroom risotto, salad, four kinds of pierogies (potato, cheese, plum, and sauerkraut), butterscotch pie, pumpkin pie, pear tart, pear clafouti, lemon squares, and white chocolate mousse with balsamic raspberry reduction, on top of the cheese and cracker selection and curried butternut squash and chorizo soup to start--with the usual suspects, a group of transplants like myself who over the years have come to look on this dinner as a tradition as much as any family dinner, and we talked about trends in technology and game development and the financial markets. And then I went to the woods and slept on the floor in a farmhouse. Now I'm back in my cubicle, catching up on fandom and on all the people I've met online. It's a little dislocating. But I'm thankful for it all, and hope the other Americans on my flist had lovely holidays, and that those of you who aren't American had good weekends.
And now I'm fighting off Office Cold #35,212: This Time It's Back and It's The Black Lung. The travel and lack of sleep and relative cold up north did not do me any favors, but the citrus and echinacea seem to be helping. And the split pea soup. Soup season is a wonderful time of the year.
Split Pea Soup
This is my tried and true recipe, which takes only minutes to put together, though it takes a while to cook the peas to the correct consistency. When I was a vegetarian, I made it with a marinated tempeh called Fakin Bacon, and then I started using real bacon, which is how I somehow managed to bypass the traditional ham hock that I understand one is supposed to use for these sorts of things.
- 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
- 4 ounces bacon or 6 ounces pancetta, cut into 1/4-inch dice
- 1 onion, cut into 1/2-inch dice
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1/4 cup dry sherry
- 2 cups dried green split peas
- 4 cups chicken broth
- 2 cups water plus additional as needed
- 1 tablespoon soy sauce
- Salt and pepper to taste
Heat the olive oil over medium high heat in heavy soup pot. Add the onions and bacon or pancetta and cook, stirring, until the onions are just beginning to caramelize and the bacon or pancetta has rendered its fat and is becoming crisp, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook, stirring, for another minute. Add the sherry and stir, scraping any browned bits up from the bottom of the pot, until most of the liquid has evaporated. Add the peas, broth, soy sauce, and 2 cups of water and bring to a boil. Simmer for about an hour an a half, partially covered, adding more water if the soup gets too thick, until the peas have mostly fallen apart to form an almost puree-like texture. Season with additional salt and pepper to taste.
* * * * *
Last week was a bit of a TV lull, and some of the TV there was made me want to throw things, so I'm glad we're more or less back to the regular schedule this week. I am really excited about a new episode of The Office this week, have mixed feelings about BSG, and am seriously hoping that I don't have to break up with Veronica Mars.
And then there's Heroes, a show I never expected to enjoy as much as I am. I am really glad that last night's Heroes did the thing it did--in fact, I am overjoyed that they took the opportunity of Hiro's trip to the past to visit all of the characters six months ago, and tie their stories together more tightly, and show each of them at the beginning, when they first started experiencing their powers. My apprehension that the writers didn't know where they were going has faded over the past few episodes, and I've been impressed by how tightly interwound all the plots are.
My friend has both a strong affinity for working with her hands and a serious problem with The Man. I became friends with her when she was going through the UCB forestry program with my college boyfriend and college roommate. Despite the fact that it is part of a school with a notable hippie tradition and the coursework is heavily salted with conservation techniques, the UCB forestry program is designed to turn out future Weyerhauser and Georgia Pacific employees who know how to write up timber harvest plans, and that was not her thing, so after a brief post-graduation stab at working with river restoration, she went on to cobble together work with Americorps and local government agencies doing conservation education, along with work at farms and nurseries, before starting the farm with her husband. They live a really uncomplicated and utilitarian life--used clothing and furniture chosen for its function rather than its appearance, very little in the way of media entertainment (though they're not opposed to such things in principle), a deep connection to the land and the seasons, lots of time spent on manual labor, on work around the farm and on transforming what they grow and the basic staples they buy at the local co-op into food, and on making things they don't have the money to buy. They can do that because on the time/money continuum, they have time--no lengthy commutes or online timesucks or complicated errands, and no need to carve time out of the regular day to pursue beloved hobbies because they have made them into their work. They also live a fairly fragile life--the farm they have put years of work into building up is on rented land, and they have no health insurance, and they depend on a complex network of personal relationships and a lot of luck to acquire goods and services that they can't afford to pay money for. I admire them for what they do, but would die of unhappiness if I had to live like them; I live much more in my head, and on the opposite end of the time/money continuum. I appreciate the beauty of the landscape where they live, and the quiet of the woods, and the satisfaction of growing your own food, but I like living in the city, I like having a multitude of things a short walk or trainride away, I like the noise and the fast pace. I like my job with its abstractions and its high-pressure responsibilities and its problem-solving and thought-intensiveness, and because of that, I'm generally pretty happy with--or at least reconciled to--the tradeoffs I make between time and money. (Ironically, though, I drive far less than she does. The rural lifestyle, no matter how hippie, involves driving long distances to get anywhere.)
When we were living together, my friend and I both had the tendencies that have brought us to where we are now, and those have only strengthened and hardened over the years, pulling us in different directions on a lot of things. But we also have an important shared history, a lot of memories, and more in common than we should, and a lot of my attitudes about consumerism and the environment and food and the enjoyment of making things with your own hands were shaped by the time I was living in that house, and seem alien to many of the friends I have now. I made a lot of very different friends in college and have kept up those friendships despite the inevitable growing apart over time, but since then, it seems like I meet fewer and fewer people in RL who are significantly different from me. As I've gotten older, I've gotten less social, and my circle has narrowed. I didn't really appreciate, at the time, what a magically plastic time for friendship formation college was. And one of the things that has been nice about LJ is meeting people who don't work in software, who live different places, who do different things, although we all have fandom in common.
I had a lovely Thanksgiving in a very swank South of Market loft--a 20-pound roast turkey, ham, kielbasa with sauerkraut, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, wild mushroom risotto, salad, four kinds of pierogies (potato, cheese, plum, and sauerkraut), butterscotch pie, pumpkin pie, pear tart, pear clafouti, lemon squares, and white chocolate mousse with balsamic raspberry reduction, on top of the cheese and cracker selection and curried butternut squash and chorizo soup to start--with the usual suspects, a group of transplants like myself who over the years have come to look on this dinner as a tradition as much as any family dinner, and we talked about trends in technology and game development and the financial markets. And then I went to the woods and slept on the floor in a farmhouse. Now I'm back in my cubicle, catching up on fandom and on all the people I've met online. It's a little dislocating. But I'm thankful for it all, and hope the other Americans on my flist had lovely holidays, and that those of you who aren't American had good weekends.
And now I'm fighting off Office Cold #35,212: This Time It's Back and It's The Black Lung. The travel and lack of sleep and relative cold up north did not do me any favors, but the citrus and echinacea seem to be helping. And the split pea soup. Soup season is a wonderful time of the year.
Split Pea Soup
This is my tried and true recipe, which takes only minutes to put together, though it takes a while to cook the peas to the correct consistency. When I was a vegetarian, I made it with a marinated tempeh called Fakin Bacon, and then I started using real bacon, which is how I somehow managed to bypass the traditional ham hock that I understand one is supposed to use for these sorts of things.
- 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
- 4 ounces bacon or 6 ounces pancetta, cut into 1/4-inch dice
- 1 onion, cut into 1/2-inch dice
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1/4 cup dry sherry
- 2 cups dried green split peas
- 4 cups chicken broth
- 2 cups water plus additional as needed
- 1 tablespoon soy sauce
- Salt and pepper to taste
Heat the olive oil over medium high heat in heavy soup pot. Add the onions and bacon or pancetta and cook, stirring, until the onions are just beginning to caramelize and the bacon or pancetta has rendered its fat and is becoming crisp, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook, stirring, for another minute. Add the sherry and stir, scraping any browned bits up from the bottom of the pot, until most of the liquid has evaporated. Add the peas, broth, soy sauce, and 2 cups of water and bring to a boil. Simmer for about an hour an a half, partially covered, adding more water if the soup gets too thick, until the peas have mostly fallen apart to form an almost puree-like texture. Season with additional salt and pepper to taste.
* * * * *
Last week was a bit of a TV lull, and some of the TV there was made me want to throw things, so I'm glad we're more or less back to the regular schedule this week. I am really excited about a new episode of The Office this week, have mixed feelings about BSG, and am seriously hoping that I don't have to break up with Veronica Mars.
And then there's Heroes, a show I never expected to enjoy as much as I am. I am really glad that last night's Heroes did the thing it did--in fact, I am overjoyed that they took the opportunity of Hiro's trip to the past to visit all of the characters six months ago, and tie their stories together more tightly, and show each of them at the beginning, when they first started experiencing their powers. My apprehension that the writers didn't know where they were going has faded over the past few episodes, and I've been impressed by how tightly interwound all the plots are.