I have an appointment in a couple of weeks to get my first professional haircut in over a year, and I can’t tell you how many hours I have squandered surfing the Internet in search of the perfect hairstyle. Bobs, lobs, bangs and pixies. Gray hair. Glasses. The struggle is real.
I’ve enjoyed low maintenance hair for several years now. I was ready for retirement, and I was ready for the pandemic or at least my hair was. My hair is fine in texture with a little bit of wave in it. No layers, no dye. I don’t use heat or special products. If it doesn’t look good on any given day, I wear it up.
It seems over the past year I’ve lost more hair than usual, although it appears to be growing back. My hair is a little thinner at the temples, so I’ve been experimenting with a middle part. I like it.
Just as I thought I was ready for a big shift, my hair started cooperating, and now I’m not so sure I want to change it at all. Interestingly enough, I get more hits on my signature scrunchie man bun than any other post on this blog. I re-read that post yesterday, and all the comments I made about my low-maintenance approach still resonate with me.
The top candidate for something different is a neck-length bob with maybe some-face framing layers or long bangs, but I’m pretty sure that style requires more frequent haircuts, styling products and a blow dryer. While I think it would look very attractive on me, I do not want to stand in front of the mirror every day blowing my hair to smooth perfection.
I like the French girl look – long and untamed – although I guess I’m too old to pull off anything with the word “girl” in it. Plus, those French girls all have bangs but don’t wear glasses. I could see keeping it long and getting some sort of funky bang, but again, that’s extra maintenance and then there’s the glasses problem.
With all this doubt, I’m inclined to skip the transformation and just get the ends trimmed up neatly. I could probably coax more wave with some sort of product, but that’s a slippery slope. When all is said and done, my hair seems to look best if I leave it alone.
Of course, that means I don’t have a “style” per se. Most of the time I’m OK with that, but then I see these makeovers of women in their 50s and 60s, and there’s something to be said for a cute haircut. They look great! It’s easy to get sucked in, except you have to imagine all the work that went into making them look that good.
It’s hard to decide. Do you think it’s worth the trouble to maintain a so-called “modern” haircut, or are you more inclined to take a simpler approach? Does hair need a style, or is it just more beauty hype?
Dale and I have been counting down the days until we get our second Pfizer vaccines. While there were some delays due to weather, it looks like we’re on track to get ours on schedule. As we used to say in the military, it’s two days and a wake-up!
Then it’s a two-week wait, and of course, we understand nothing is risk-free. It’s not like we’re changing our lives. Still, I have an appointment for a haircut exactly two weeks after. That appointment is the only thing between me and an ugly episode of HairClippers Gone Wild.
Unless it gets really bad again, we’d like to go camping when it warms up. I need art supplies, and I’m looking forward to wandering around a store instead of ordering it on Amazon.
A home for my art?
Speaking of art, I’m still a little cautious about sharing my woodburning art projects with people who may not like them. My sisters-in-law each received one for Christmas, and I understand they were not impressed. I get it, art is personal, blah, blah, blah.
I wondered if I could donate them to a thrift store that benefits a non-profit organization I’d feel good about supporting. I found one shop that benefits a cat shelter, and that might well be my first stop.
As for the art, they may love it, they may hate it or my little creations might not be a good fit for their clientele, but once I’m in the immune-zone, I plan to pay a visit.
A cooking failure
We had a rare cooking failure this week. Dale and I both love fried oysters, and it’s one of the few things we don’t make at home. We have one of those big home deep fryers but rarely use it. I made onion rings in it a few years ago, and they were greasy and soggy. I thought the temperature gauge was off.
But we kept it. This week Dale decided to test it. He filled the fryer with oil and heated it up, setting the temperature to 350 and then 375 degrees. The thermostat registered the proper temperature after the appropriate amount of time, and he used a separate instant-read thermometer for cross-reference.
Then he bought fresh oysters and shucked them himself. These were tough to open, and it was quite a task. He also decided to make homemade French fries and coleslaw to go with. There was some sort of coating made with buttermilk and cornmeal, but I wasn’t paying attention at that point.
He cooked it all up, and the oysters and French fries were inedible greasy soggy messes. I also had the audacity to say he put too much mayonnaise in the coleslaw. That did not help. I believe he described it as “piling on.”
It seems the machine heats up properly but can’t maintain temperature. So totally not Dale’s fault, although he felt terrible. We both get quite devasted when our food fails for whatever reason.
Anyway, the fryer (not the person who fries) is gone, although we will probably look for another one. We don’t do the big fry often, but those jumbo-sized things are handy.
Books and TV
I’m almost finished with Schitt’s Creek, and I have enjoyed it much more since I basically told Dale he had to binge-watch it with me or pass. In other words, Schitt’s or get off the pot.
I just can’t get into a show when he only wants to watch it once a month. I love it, but I do wish David would get married already. This is taking forever.
I highly recommend Lupin on Netflix but with only six episodes, it was over way too fast. It’s a French show, dubbed, about the son of an immigrant from Senegal who grows up to be a world-class thief with a heart of gold and a penchant for amazing disguises. I understand there are more at the ready, but they are waiting until summer to release them.
I’m on the waiting list at the library for Jussi Adler-Olsen’s Victim 2117, the last of the Department Q series about Danish detective Carl Mørck. The previous book in the series told the back story of sidekick Rose, and I believe this one is about Assad – a great character with a secretive past.
Also from the library, I’m reading Beginners: The Joy and Transformative Power of Lifelong Learning by Tom Vanderbilt. I should probably do a complete review, but I’m not sure I will. I like it, and I suspect a lot of retirees will be inspired by it, but the author sort of annoys me. He’s a journalist with a wife and family who decides to learn to sing and surf, among other activities.
I mean, sure, he wrote a book about it and will hopefully recoup some of his expenses, but I can’t help thinking about his wife, and what it must have felt like for her as he went off on this mid-life journey disguised as work.
Sorry about the mess, honey, but I’m late for choir practice! It feeds my soul! Oh, can you take me to the airport next week? I’m off to Costa Rica for surfing lessons!
I’m probably not being fair. I’ve been sort of cranky lately. I mean, I’m more relaxed and sleeping way better with The Former Guy somewhat out of the picture, but there’s still a lot of bad stuff going down out there, and I have to force myself to let go of things I can’t control.
My first loaf of sourdough bread.Some big holes but still delicious!
As promised, here’s a report on my first sourdough bread – mission accomplished!
First of all, the bread is delicious. The texture is chewy and crusty, and you can taste that yummy tang of sourdough. This is by no means a step-by-step guide, but I wanted to share a few highlights in case you decide to experiment.
I was originally going to use the recipe from Tartine but switched to Foodbod Sourdough because it was easier for a beginner. Except for the starter, which was from Tartine, I followed the master recipe on Foodbod. I used more salt – 10 grams.
The dough rises on the counter first and then in the refrigerator. I probably should have allotted more time for both rises.
Sourdough isn’t kneaded in the traditional sense. You go around the bowl folding the dough onto itself. I rushed this part, and my dough most likely needed more folds and turns.
This was my first time using a banneton basket. I sprayed it with water and dusted it with rice flour the day before and let it dry overnight. Then I dusted it again with rice flour, creating a non-stick surface. It worked perfectly.
My starter, the homemade equivalent of yeast, was a 50/50 mix of whole wheat flour and white bread flour, but the bread itself was 100 percent white bread flour. No problems.
I didn’t score the dough properly. I had a lame (pronounced LOM) that came free with my banneton but didn’t realize until the last minute you’re supposed to slip a special razor blade over the end. I had the wrong kind of blade, so I used that by itself and didn’t go deep enough. But it still worked to some extent.
Most recipes call for pre-heating a cast iron Dutch oven inside the main oven as it pre-heats. You can also use a cold Dutch oven and put it in a pre-heated main oven.
The Foodbod site recommends putting your dough in a cold Dutch oven and then putting it in a cold main oven and then turning on the heat. It sounds crazy, but it worked. I would still try it other ways to compare and contrast.
In terms of technical presentation, the holes are too big. However, they did not impact the taste! While the holes are not a deal-breaker, I will continue to tinker with the process to see if I can fix that.
All in all, it was a huge success. The no-knead breads are easier, but so far I haven’t made one delivering that unique sourdough taste. Gollum, my starter, is now resting in the refrigerator. All I need to do is pull him out of the fridge and feed him to get him up and running again.
Now that I’ve done it once, it doesn’t seem so hard, and I’ll probably bake some sort of sourdough something every few weeks. And I’m not giving up on Tartine, I just found the other recipe easier to follow.
I’d say the biggest thing to figure out is timing, what with our busy retirement schedules and all. While a bit time-consuming, making sourdough bread is actually not labor-intensive, and I imagine you could develop a simple routine with a little planning and practice. I’m thinking it’s a three-day project.
I hope this has been helpful. Even with mistakes, there’s nothing quite like homemade sourdough bread.
My cloudspotting guides tell me these are Cirrus, high-altitude clouds composed of ice crystals but usually associated with fair weather.
Sourdough Saga
Today is bread day. While Gollum, my sourdough starter, is ready for action, I’m still not completely confident the bread will rise as it’s supposed to.
If you missed my last post, I named my starter Gollum, because when it comes to sourdough adventures, I find myself thinking about Gandalf, who said, “My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play in it, for good or evil, before this is over.”
Now would be the time to mention Monday was also bread day, but my attempt was aborted by Gollum. The Tartine book said to discard all but a tablespoon of starter and then feed it again with the flour/water mixture. I’m not sure what happened, but Gollum failed to yield his precious bubbles after I fed him again, so I gave him more time to gather strength.
While Tartine is a great resource, it gets complicated fast, and I find Elaine at Foodbod Sourdough to be more approachable. Although I made the starter from Tartine, I’m following Elaine’s recipe for my first loaf of bread.
The dough is now experiencing the joys of “bulk fermentation” in the refrigerator. I will bake the bread later this afternoon. You may expect a full report in the coming days.
Happy in the middle
I’ve always wanted to be great at something, but greatness has eluded me, and the reality is that I’m adequate and sometimes pretty good at lots of things. This used to make me sad and envious as I read accounts of gifted and accomplished people with tremendous passion for their crafts.
As I’ve gotten older and experienced the simple pleasures of retirement, it turns out I’m quite happy in the middle. I don’t have a singular focus that drives me and see myself as a dabbler of sorts.
Dale is the same, and we were discussing it over drinks one evening. What is the name for people like us? He thought Renaissance man might fit the bill – a person of broad talents or expertise. But then I would hardly put us in the same league as Leonardo da Vinci.
Then whilst Googling around, I read this description of the modern Renaissance man or woman:
In the simplest terms, a Renaissance man is a person with genuine competence in and understanding of multiple different fields, all of which complement one another to make him a more talented and productive person.
I also discovered fellow blogger Patricia Doyle at Retirement Transition addressed this very same topic in 2019. She wrote:
Modern day Renaissance woman (or man) loves learning (has a mindset of continual learning) and enjoys discovering more. She/he is not “meandering” but delving just deep enough to gain knowledge; she/he recognizes that not everything has to be “mastered.”
Sounds good to me!
cloudspotting for beginners
As if I don’t already have enough to amuse me, I have become a fledgling cloudspotter! This is a great pandemic hobby, much like bird watching, and you don’t even have to leave your house.
I’ve always loved clouds. I vividly remember taking swimming lessons as a child. Floating on my back between sessions and trying to give name to shapes I saw in the sky. Was it a dog? A horse? But I never made much of an effort to learn more about them. Until last week.
I was playing golf and distance-chatting with one of my partners, when she mentioned a podcast that talked about the Cloud Appreciation Society. It’s a cool website with lots of amazing cloud pictures. I haven’t joined yet, but I definitely want that Cloud Selector Identification Wheel.
In the meantime, I purchased The Cloudspotter’s Guide by Gavin Pretor-Pinney, founder of the Cloud Appreciation Society. He’s a very entertaining writer with lots of good stories about clouds, but it is quite techy. Dale can’t wait for me to finish so he can get started. His brain absorbs details better than mine.
Me? I’m looking for quick results, so I downloaded three free Android apps on Google Play to help with cloud identification.
Cloudspotting
Cloud-a-Day
Cloud Guide
My favorite so far is Cloud-a-Day, which has an Artificial Intelligence feature. I photograph a cloud formation, and it returns with a message:
Out of the 10 main cloud types, the Cloudspotter AI thinks it is this one.
Although there are 10 main cloud types, there are tons of sub-types and amazing rare cloud formations that even have special names. I’m just scratching the surface, but I’m seriously enjoying this new pleasure.
No aspirations involving greatness, but I’d like to get good enough to look up at the sky, and casually confirm, “Ah, cumulonimbus, thunderstorms likely.”
I’m still daydreaming about what I’ll do different after I get my second dose of the COVID vaccine and the immune effects kick in. As always, the virus is in charge, so we’ll assess the risks as we go. First stop is a haircut, followed by a dentist appointment.
Meanwhile, here at the homestead, I continue to dabble in self-sufficiency. It’s fun to try new things, and I am forever grateful I could retire and enjoy this lifestyle. Even with limited social interaction, I’m having a damned good time.
Cannabis
Cannabis Ruderalis at 27 days (from seed).
I tossed my last cannabis plant because it never entered the flowering stage. I have a new one going, and it looks healthy. It will be another couple of weeks before I see signs of flowering, but I am ever hopeful.
As I’ve described before, I start with autoflowering (Ruderalis) seeds and grow the plant in a pot by the window with additional overhead lighting. This is an easy and inexpensive way to grow cannabis, but the plants aren’t as productive as Sativa or Indica.
To grow Sativa or Indica indoors, you have to completely block out light for 12 hours during the flowering period, and that requires specialized equipment. Assuming I would only grow one plant at a time, I’d need a small tent and a fan, which I’m guessing at around $200 – more if it turns out I need a new light.
While I have both the space and the money, I’ve resisted this impulse because I didn’t want to get in over my head. Throughout the years, I’ve been known to squander money on what otherwise might be called a passing fancy. But same as my woodburning, I’ve been at it for more than a year now, and I’m starting to gain confidence in my skills, as well as my long-term interest.
The biggest advantage is greater yield. I mostly use cannabis to make balm, which I slather on religiously for creaky knees, post-mastectomy pain and an itchy place on my back called notalgia paresthetica.
I need an ounce of cannabis to make a batch of balm. My best Ruderalis yielded an ounce, but it’s usually less than that. I’ve read one Sativa or Indica could yield a pound!
The average price of an ounce of cannabis in California is around $257, so I would easily make my money back in one grow. I’m still on the fence, so more to come if I should decide to go down that rabbit hole.
Sure, I could just buy the cream, but what fun is that?
When neighbors hand you lemons
Candied Meyer lemon peel. Gorgeous but not delicious.
I made lemonade by juicing a bunch of my Meyer lemons with ginger root and adding simple syrup before freezing in medium tubs. I take a scoop, melt it and add some water for a great-tasting juice.
Then I candied some of the peel. I’ve never done this before, but it has always been on my dream sheet. It was a major pain in the ass to remove the pith, but I went at it like I was on a mission from God. My peels were pithless.
They look gorgeous, don’t you think? But they are not delicious and leave a weird taste in your mouth. I can’t quite bear to toss them yet, but I won’t be making them again.
sourdough adventures
Gollum, my fledgling sourdough starter.
I’m told you should name your starter, and so we now have Gollum. When it comes to sourdough adventures, I find myself thinking about Gandalf, who said, “My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play in it, for good or evil, before this is over.”
Gollum and I have been tinkering for about 10 days now. Starting with just a bit of flour and water, I waited a few days before he started to bubble. Then every day you toss 80 percent of the batter and feed it by mixing in more water and flour. I’m keeping a journal to document my progress.
At first my batter was too thin and not very active. Then I started weighing instead of measuring equal amounts of water and flour, and that was a huge improvement. I also had it covered with a dishtowel, and I got rid of that so “natural yeast” from the air could join the fun. Now he’s just topped with a loose plastic lid, slightly askew.
Gollum is bubbling ferociously again, and I think I’m close to being able to bake.
However, the telltale sign is whether you can see that it rises and falls daily. Because that’s what starter is – a substitute for the commercial yeast one typically uses to make bread dough rise. They say you should see evidence of this within four to 12 hours after feeding. I haven’t actually witnessed it, although I saw dried starter on the bottom of the lid.
I do not want to mess around with bread until I personally see the rise and fall, so my next step is to move it to a place where I can easily view what’s going on. Gollum is currently banished to a side room, so he’ll be moving into the kitchen later today.
Our yard does not get much sun, and what little we get is reserved for tomatoes and hot peppers. Our neighbors, on the other hand, have nothing but sun, and we are the lucky recipients of their surplus citrus. The Meyer lemons are spectacular this year.
Don’t you love the little box? They might even want it back. I’ll have to put some baked goods in there as a thank-you.
We use Meyer lemons as you would use any lemon, but when we get the motherlode, I juice them with ginger root, add simple syrup and freeze in quart-sized tubs. When I want juice, I melt a scoop of the frozen stuff and mix it with a bit of water. Delicious.
Vaccination Update
Exciting news. We have received our first vaccinations at a mass vaccination site run by Sutter Health, our healthcare provider. We did a dry run Saturday, as the site is a good 45 minutes away and in an unfamiliar area. I’m glad we did, as it made the Sunday drive to the site much less stressful.
We live in a quiet suburb but drove through a much larger town on the way to the vaccination site. There was a lot of traffic for a time when people are supposedly staying home. We passed several malls, and the parking lots were full. By the time we got home, I felt like we’d been to Dallas and back.
Dallas is kind of a joke between us from our days of living in Fort Worth. Dallas has a lot of cool things to do, but its bigness always scared me, and I couldn’t wait to get home. But then there’s the song Dallas as sung by Jimmie Dale Gilmore, and it makes me love it some.
Anyway, we got there early, because I can’t stop myself. It was a huge healthcare facility that looked like it was shut down before being repurposed as a mass vaccination site. Plenty of parking. We could see a long line full of masked old people. Us!
Dale and I both had appointments, but his was about 30 minutes behind mine. I said I was going for it and asked if he wanted me to text him if I thought he should get in line, too. He said yes.
As I was walking toward the line, I heard two women talking, and one said they ran out of vaccines. I was like, oh, crap, this can’t be happening. But I pressed on, and an employee kindly said to get in the line on the right if you had an appointment. The line on the left was for people who just showed up expecting to get vaccinated, and they were simply waiting to make an appointment for another day.
I asked about my appointment – does that mean I’m getting the vaccine? She said yes. I was afraid Dale would overhear the rumors about vaccines running out, so I texted him to ignore that, we were good. He acknowledged.
Then I asked the nice attendant about my husband. I explained he was about 30 minutes behind me. She said just have him join you in line – they’ll take you together. I immediately texted Dale, “Come now.”
Then it was hurry up and wait. No sign of Dale. I could see our car and his little bald head just sitting there.
Still sitting there.
As I was getting closer to the front of the line, I broke down and called him. He finally joined me and explained he had received another text from our neighbors about the lemons and assumed the beep from my second text was more of the same, so he ignored it.
Texts. So hard.
Everyone was super nice and professional. All the lines were marked to keep people socially distant. Upon entering, we saw a sign that said, “Today’s vaccine is Pfizer.” Dale thinks that is the best one, so he was happy. I would probably take the 7-Eleven vaccine if they had it.
We showed our ID, and they confirmed our appointments at the entrance. Then we stood in a short line before arriving at a standing station, where they asked if we’d had contact with anyone who tested positive, had symptoms, etc. They gave us a handout about the vaccine. Then we waited for a sit-down station, where they confirmed everything again.
The shot itself was completely painless. From there we moved to another station, where someone recorded our vaccinations and gave us COVID-19 Vaccination Record Cards. We got appointments for 21 days out, which will put us at Feb. 28. She stuck a post-it note to the card with the time we were allowed to depart the facility.
In the interim, we would sit in a holding area for 15 minutes to see if we had any reactions. Seats were spaced six feet apart. When it was safe for us to leave, they asked us to put the post-it note on our chair so they could disinfect it afterward. Slick!
After we got home, I played a round of Wii golf to keep my upper body moving, while Dale exercised his martini arm. We both slept well and feel fine today. Maybe a little drowsy. Slight soreness at the injection site. I usually get fever and chills from the regular flu shot and did not have any problems with this one.
All in all, the mass vaccination site was a first-class production, and we feel lucky to be in a relatively early group of those 65 and older. As I understand it, two weeks after the second shot, we’ll be as protected as you get. Of course, this doesn’t factor in variants and all that, but it does give us some wiggle room.
March 14. If all goes well, that’s when we’ll have whatever passes for full protection. I’m thinking about changes I will make, and I’m not going to lie, it’s fun. I’m pretty sure I’ll get a haircut. Maybe dine at an outside restaurant. Go wine tasting if it’s outside. Swim again! Unless the variants get out of control and our vaccines aren’t up to it, camping is back on the table.
I made sure to thank everyone at every station for their work. Oh, you get the occasional bad apple, but most medical professionals are truly special people, and I am forever grateful to them. And the researchers who were able to develop these vaccines in such short time! It’s amazing when you think about it.
Our health care system announced Monday they would be opening appointments for anyone over 65 “later in the week.” I logged into my account to make sure it worked, and I told asked Dale to do the same. We would need to act quickly when the time came. After I logged in, I could see all my information, but you still couldn’t make appointments.
I decided to check in every morning and every night, figuring it would go live before they announce it, and all of the sudden it would work. And that’s exactly what happened. Dale was still eating breakfast when I called him upstairs to log into his account.
Oh, but did he listen to me when I expressed my desire for him to test his account? Of course not. The password didn’t work, and we messed around with that for 30 minutes until he finally got a replacement password.
Although I was rather annoyed with Dale, we got appointments for tomorrow, so I got over it pretty quickly. I never do this, but I demanded an apology. Seriously. He claimed it was a misunderstanding, which is his way of saying he’s sorry, and I forgave him because after 42 years, why not?
That was Thursday, and I have still received nothing from our health care system announcing the COVID vaccination feature on the website is active. Sometimes it helps to be crazy neurotic.
For some reason, I became irrational with fear that I wouldn’t be able to keep the appointment. Being somewhat of an over-zealous pandemic warrior and part-time hypochondriac, I decided to take my temperature, which was 98.6.
I’m usually in the 97 range, so I freaked. As I was trying to calm myself down, I thought, even in the grandest cosmic joke of all times, I would not get COVID on the same day I made my vaccine appointment. Plus, I felt fine, no symptoms whatsoever and only left the house once to play golf during the last 10 days.
Coffee! I had just had two cups of coffee when I took my temperature, and I wondered if that made a difference. I waited a couple of hours and took my temperature again, and again and again. Because as a functioning hypochrondriac, I have three thermometers! One digital from CVS, one digital from Walgreens and a mercury. All three put me in the 97 zone.
You can’t make this stuff up.
We’ve not been to the mass vaccination site, so we’re doing a test run today. Normally, Dale would complain about the overkill, but he knows he’s barely out of the dog house, so he’s on board with whatever I want at this point. My pledge to you is that I will not abuse this power.
Sourdough starter
In other news, my sourdough starter is underway. So far, so good, but I’m prepared to fail.
I’m following instructions in the Tartine cookbook and so far feel mildly confident it will work. I used a pint-sized tub filled about halfway with lukewarm water and a 50/50 mix of bread flour and whole wheat flour – enough to make a thick batter. After three days in a cool dark place covered with a dish towel, it bubbled and smelled funky. That’s when you start the feeding cycle.
Every morning, I discard 80 percent of it and add enough water and flour mixture to make another thick batter. Cover and return to its hiding place. I’m not sure how long this goes on – possibly a week – before I can actually bake with it. I’m keeping a log, so I can report back to you on how the timing works.
For now, we’re in the feed and wait mode – not unlike many of us riding out the pandemic.
Feed and wait.
Damaged goods
In other striking parallels, I’m working on a new woodburning piece, and I am once again in awe of the lessons I have learned through working on damaged wood.
I accept the pallet scraps are flawed, and nothing I can do will make them perfect. Perfection isn’t even on the radar. If I make a mistake, I just mess with it until the mistake looks like I did it on purpose. If I start to think, oh, this is ugly, I switch to, hey, cut yourself some slack, it was trash!
Working on wood scraps reminds me that we are all damaged goods. Proceed accordingly and remember, whether it’s art, relationships or sourdough, all you can do is practice and forgive.
Although I’m not a food blogger, I do write a lot about food and share recipes and links. To post a recipe you can print from my blog, it has to be something I’ve made multiple times with confidence. I’m also careful to ensure I don’t just copy someone else’s recipe. If I’m going to use it on the blog, I’ve tweaked it to some degree and changed the instructions based on my own experiences. And even then, I’ll cite the source of inspiration.
For those recipes that don’t make the cut, I try to link to the original source, whether it’s the Washington Post or someone’s blog. This can be problematic, as sites like the Washington Post have firewalls, and you may not be able to access the recipe.
My new favorite naan recipe came from the Post. I’ve only made it once, and even though it was utterly fabulous, the dough didn’t handle as described. More about that later, but just a preface as to why I’m not posting the actual recipe. I got a little creative and found a variety of sites that feature the recipe. Hopefully, one of them will work for you!
This is my third naan recipe, and it is by far superior to the others. Deliciously charred yet soft and bready. And except for my dough consistency issues, quick and easy to make. Dale ranked it among the best naan he has ever had.
My previous favorite used yeast, while this recipe uses baking powder. Buttermilk is another unique addition. In the past, I’ve cooked naan outside in our Roccbox pizza oven, which is great, but we’ve had a week of rain, so that was not in the cards. I liked this recipe because you cook them on the stovetop.
The dough was way too wet, and even though the author says not to do it, I added more flour. Next time, I would be more careful adding the water. Even then, I couldn’t really knead it into a smooth ball. Instead, I just scooped out portions and arranged them on the greased baking sheet, per the instructions.
At one point, I said I would be totally shocked if these materialized into something resembling naan. Color me shocked.
When it came time to roll them out, they rolled easily, but I had to generously dust them with flour on both sides multiple times to keep them from sticking. Pro tip of the day came from someone in the comments section of the Post. He suggested you roll them out between two sheets of Silpat.
Wow! Game Changer.
I used a large and very hot cast iron pan, which was perfect. There was smoke, so I cranked up the exhaust fan, which makes a noise such that our cat would exit the scene at a high rate of speed. Charred bits of bread where it blisters and burns stuck to the pan, and I thought maybe I had ruined it, but the pan cleaned up nicely later.
For the first night, we ate them hot off the grill with some curry I whipped up. The next morning for breakfast, we sealed the naan in foil packets and heated them in the oven for about 10 minutes at 400 degrees. And then we dunked those hunks of soft charry pillowy naan in olive oil.
Dag, they were good.
While I’ve made tortillas for many years, I didn’t mess with making real bread until I retired. I started with the Jim Lahey no-knead breads and had great success. From there, entering my pandemic bread phase, I moved onto English Muffins. And naan.
By the way, I’ve now made the Washington Post recipe for English Muffins that I originally linked to, as well as the recipe from Mel’s Kitchen Café that Dot shared in the comments section.
Dot wins! We preferred the muffins from Mel’s Kitchen Cafe.
In other bread developments, I will soon be joining the legions of pandemic warriors taking refuge in sourdough. With inspiration from Chris, the sourdough enthusiast at Tahoe Girl, I purchased the original Tartine cookbook and am almost ready to begin the adventure.
The full sourdough report will unfold in the coming weeks. I needed a few new sexy bread tools, which arrive Tuesday.
California’s governor lifted the much-maligned stay-at-home order just in time for a winter storm to roll in, and all of the sudden everyone wants to, um, stay home. Apparently, freedom’s just another word for let’s stay warm and dry.
Some businesses are starting to open again, although we aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. While I hate to admit this, I’ve become quite comfortable here in my nest. I do get out for walking and golf, but that’s it. Once in a while I get this idea I need to go out and buy something, but then I think, oh, I could just get that on Amazon.
In some ways, it will be hard to push myself out the door when the time comes. Dale’s not far behind me. He keeps a pair of binoculars by his desk that faces a window overlooking the street and reports on daily activities.
“Oh, it looks like the Johnson clan is getting new appliances.”
We really do need to get out more.
In the meantime, I’m grateful for hobbies that keep me amused. I finished another piece of woodburning art, ceremoniously named Number 15. This would be the successor to numbers one through 14. Creativity is sometimes stretched thin during these unprecedented times.
I made it for my dear friend, Carole, whose house has a lot of blue and green. I didn’t want to mimic her colors but instead complement them. It took great discipline to stick to the color scheme, as my previous works seem to be an explosion of reds. I did add just a tiny splash of red and yellow for character.
When I uploaded the piece to my online gallery, I was surprised how different it is from my other examples. I like the all-colors-are-welcome approach, but sticking with a palette is interesting, too.
This time I used a combination of acrylic paint and pencils to fill in the designs I made with the woodburning tool. Because I used so many greens and blues and have a limited supply of paint and pencils, I concocted custom colors for the first time. My sister, The Michaels Whisperer, tells me I can buy a book that essentially provides recipes for color-mixing.
As for scrap wood, I have a couple pieces left. I told asked Dale to be on the lookout and suggested he might want to drive through the neighborhood to see what people are tossing. Not all things are visible from his observation tower by the window.
Although I said in my last post I wasn’t particularly productive, several of us got into a discussion in the comments section and Tamara wondered if engaged is a better word. In addition to my golf addiction, I’m definitely engaged in a number of creative pursuits, to include cooking, baking, writing, growing cannabis and practicing art.
Still, I avoid overengineering my time and try not to make a job out of it.
While we all look forward to a cornucopia of post-pandemic options, I’m not waiting for it to end before I start to live. There’s something to be said for a simple but enjoyable lifestyle that is sustainable through good times and bad. I am fortunate to have a choice, and my simple pleasures in no way mitigate the pain and suffering others are experiencing throughout this ordeal.
I might not be living large, but I’m living large at home. As best I can, anyway.
I’ve had a lot of “work” dreams and trying to make sense of them, I wondered whether it means I have unfinished business of some sort. I’m quite content with my retired life and do not want a job. So, what’s it all about, Alfie?
Dreams are so weird, and I don’t pretend to understand them. The work dreams are rarely good and usually replay the worst aspects of jobs I had during my career. My best guess is the dreams are a way for my mind to unravel the accumulated stress.
Yet there might be another take on it. When I mentioned the question about unfinished business to a friend, he said although I seemed quite content, he had to wonder if I was making the most of my life. Am I reaching my full potential? Perhaps that’s what the dreams are about.
We had a great exchange about what that means. In his view, it’s about living each year as if it’s your last … setting targets and doing more than what you’ve done before. I guess that’s what a lot of people are doing when they post their goals about reading 200 books before Easter.
That deal about year-over-year improvement is too jobbie for me. Stretch goals and all that. And I’m not sure the strategy was successful. In my workplace, we systematically weeded out steady performers who worked as a team in favor of individual superstars who fought over the last porkchop, making everyone miserable.
What if I don’t need to continuously improve myself? For the record, my friend is right … I am content! But here’s a radical thought. What if being content is actually what it means to reach my full potential? What if being alive is my greatest accomplishment? What if ordinary is good enough?
I’ve read a little about Taoism, sometimes known as Daoism, which is a Chinese philosophy that is very much about going with the flow. I love the idea that not reaching too far might be the essence of freedom.
The artist Pablo Picasso also had something to say about striving too hard:
You must always work not just within but below your means. If you can handle three elements, handle only two. If you can handle ten, then handle only five. In that way the ones you do handle, you handle with more ease, more mastery, and you create a feeling of strength in reserve.
I’m way calmer since Trump left office, and my sleep has been much less stressful. Not as many work dreams, which will hopefully continue to fade over time. Still, I’m glad I took the opportunity to reflect on the balance between being content and being productive.
While I applaud and respect those who drive themselves harder, there’s room for underachievers, too. If you are among those who resist excessive productivity, I hope you find pleasure in knowing you are not alone.
As for me, I am content to work below my means. It’s a sweet gig, actually.
