Prisoner of Gluten

Los Angeles, California

I suffer from guilt. Seriously. I often feel guilty. I think guilt was installed in me when I was too young to resist. In spite of everything I am doing for my mom, which is providing all of the family care for her, I always feel I could do more. That I could spend more time with her, solve her ongoing problem with boredom, be that better kid that I always felt I should be for my mom. Inexplicably, I did not feel this in my relationship with my dad. I always felt that he enjoyed my company, and was proud of how I turned out, in spite of that brief incarceration which I wrote about in my last post (available here, while supplies last!).

I feel twinges of guilt about my blog as well. I often regret the complaining, the grousing, the bitching about things I see around me that I do not like one bit: reality TV; carpooling parents in SUVs who run stop signs; people subjecting you to their end of loud cellphone conversations, especially if they are using the words the production -- and lastly, those of you who proclaim that you eat clean but then I observe that you wash neither your fruits nor your vegetables. I'm just saying.

One thing I don't feel guilty about is my food. We eat well and good. Almost enough said, but not quite. I want to go on record as saying that I like tofu, when I run across it in miso soup or pad thai noodles. I like quinoa. I like kale. I just don't want to eat these things every day when there are so many yummy foods out there to eat. We like a variety of vegetables, and, while I can't speak for Billy (who, frankly, could use a twelve-step program to get that Fudgsicle monkey off his back), I don't have much of a sweet tooth so I don't get into trouble on that front. We are pretty much slow-food people, as we cook often, and we eat a minimum of foods that are considered to be processed.However, that doesn't stop us from the occasional Animal-style In-and-Out Burger; nor the occasional Dodger dog at a baseball game. And, if truth be told, I probably do have a chili burger every year or so. That, along with, say, a perfect loaf of french bread; and some terribly fine Camembert cheese, occasionally serve as reminders for why life is worth living -- at least on the food front.

I shouldn't go off on the whole GF (gluten-free) thing. Because whether you have a genuine health problem with gluten, or you just want to have a problem with gluten, that is your business. Trends become fads. But, I do get the white food thing, and we do moderate our intake of it -- sugar, flour, pasta, bread, etc. I do feel a bit sluggish if I overload on it; and I often cook whole-wheat pasta instead of white because I feel it is a bit more digestible. But, let's be honest, don't some of us occasionally imbibe things designed to make us feel a little logy and sluggish? And who doesn't feel a bit, well, bloated after a beer? Isn't that just what comes with the territory -- not a bad thing, unless overdone?

I happen to think that the idea of brown rice sushi is, well, silly. I want to eat authentically, and brown rice sushi, risotto, or paella just isn't right. So, again, I'm not planning to abstain from food, white and otherwise, as long as my weight and blood work continues to indicate that I don't have to. And for those of you who are now treating gluten like second-hand smoke, please be aware that if you invite me to your home for a meal, I am now XGF (Xanthan Gum Free). Xanthan gum, by the way, is what is used in GF bakery items to mimic gluten. It is created by the process of fermentation of glucose, sucrose, or lactose, and is frequently made from corn, soy, or wheat. It's also used in the process of oil drilling -- to thicken mud. And, in the creation of fake blood and slime. Whatever gets us through the night.

Now, having finished that rant, and, trust me I will feel guilty about it later as I always do, I want to share a recipe for something I think is really healthy, because it has yogurt in it. White yogurt.

Ubiquitous French Yogurt Cake

1 1/2 cups           WHITE flour
2        teaspoons baking powder
1/2    teaspoon   kosher salt
2        teaspoons grated zest of Meyer Lemon (two or three small)
1         cup            WHITE sugar
3/4    cup             whole-milk plain Greek yogurt
1/2     cup             vegetable oil
2                            eggs, large
1/2    teaspoon   vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray a standard-sized loaf pan with nonstick vegetable oil. Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl. Whisk in lemon zest. In a large bowl, whisk yogurt, oil, eggs, and vanilla. Yes, we're having lots of whisking. Add dry ingredients, and fold in until just blended. Pour into pan. Bake until cake is golden brown, and the toothpick test comes out clean -- about 40 to 50 minutes. Cool in pan for fifteen minutes, then turn out to cool completely.

I called this recipe Ubiquitous French Yogurt Cake because recently I've been running across it in cookbooks and food magazines just about everywhere I look. And I understand why. It's a good recipe, easy to make, with an almost pound cake-like texture, but without the pound of butter required to make pound cake. It caught my eye in Molly Wizenberg's food memoir, A Homemade Life. She is the author of the food blog, Orangette, which you can look at by clicking here. But that was not the recipe I initially used when baking this over the weekend for a sojourn to a Hollywood Bowl concert featuring Placido Domingo. I used a recipe from a recent Bon Appetit magazine. Since it was in a loaf, and was going to be served in slices, I sliced off the end to try. Not bad, a little dry, perhaps. Then I sliced off another couple of slices for dessert that night. What do you think? I asked Billy. It's a little dry, he said.

The next morning I baked another French-Style Lemon Yogurt Cake, this time varying both recipe and technique a la Molly's recipe. She uses less yogurt and an extra egg. She also offers the variation to replace 1/2 cup of the WHITE flour with almond meal. I did that. What I didn't do is bake it, as she directed, in a 9-inch cake pan. I went back to my trusty loaf pan. I presented both cakes last night at the Bowl and the consensus was that they were both good, but I think I liked the texture of the Bon Appetit one better. Plus, without the almonds, the Meyer lemon flavor came through more clearly. But my plan is to keep playing around with this. I think the next time I will be using lemon olive oil, or maybe tilting the whole thing towards autumn with orange zest. I will let you know how this turns out. Meanwhile, I thank you for reading my blog -- even you GF'ers. Really. Just lighten up a little . . .

Beginnings

Los Angeles, California


Though not yet at two thousand posts, I feel it's time to reiterate my blog mission statement. Except, I don't have a blog mission statement. When I started WWSD, I made a flexible commitment to myself that I would write at least two posts each month. I would include a recipe in roughly every other post. The recipe part came about as I was following a rather famous food blog, which is this one, and I had some inclination towards homage (polite term for blatant imitation) of it. Then, of course, there was the advice angle -- presenting some moral, ethical, practical, whathaveyou, problem and postulating what Sandra would do about it. Interesting, but could I always be accurate in what I presented? And, God forbid, what if someone acted on my advice, even if it was unsolicited? Probably not a good thing. So, blogwise, that leaves salsa dance. But writing about an activity, any activity, is just not the same as doing it. Though that hasn't really stopped me from writing about it (there's no stopping me . . . don't even try, I'll just drag you down with me). And one more, I think very important, thing. I wanted my posts to be humorous. At least most of the time. And, therein, lies the crux of the problem of writing this post.


These days, I'm just not in a funny mood. Without going into much detail, and thereby losing the remaining readers who didn't peel off in previous posts or the last paragraph, Billy and I are plain, damn tired at the moment. Billy's been working ten hour days, each weekend, at our rental property, trying to repair all the damage done by our evicted tenant. I've been running back and forth, daily, to the rehab facility where my mom has been placed, and which is not close to us. Between time, regular life and regular work continue, after a fashion. Following a sorta kinda busy summer, with lots of recreation and celebration, we find ourselves pretty much stuck, with our pair of noses to the grindstone. I don't mind the work. In college, when I was working two jobs and carrying seventeen units, I wrote in an independent study journal that I could take on anything as long as I knew that there was a finite end to it. And, more or less, there will be an end to both of these things -- the house will be rented; my mom will be placed in assisted care, and I will eventually cut back on the daily visits to her. But, right now, we're both exhausted all of the time. There just isn't enough time to recoup our resources. And that makes it difficult for me to attempt to be funny (attempt, because even though I think I'm being humorous at times, I may be the only one who is laughing . . .).


Now, to switch to another subject, today is the second day of Rosh Hashanah. Even though I am not Jewish, I have many friends who are, including my close frister, Diana. She once told me that I was welcome to observe Rosh Hashanah, even if I'm not Jewish (perhaps this is reformationist thinking?). Anyway, her philosophy of this is that everyone should get two start-overs for the year. First Rosh Hashanah, then January 1st. I like this idea, and, especially since I am not a big fan of New Year's Eve, I like the idea of a start-over in Autumn. Fall has always had that new-beginning feeling related to the change of season, and I suppose, the new school year. I also like what I read this morning on a blog I sometimes visit, which is called goop. This was written by Michael Berg, who is a Kabbalah scholar and author. He writes that an . . . important connection is how we think and behave during Rosh Hashanah . . . we should act in only ways of sharing, forgiveness and care. No anger, no doubt, no jealousy, no sadness, at least for these two days. How we are during these two days will influence the next 363. A worthy goal, indeed. And perhaps my observation of this could be in the form of thinking of these friends of mine who check up on me, and send me good thoughts, and have given me an education in Yiddish that is part of my daily vocabulary (and more often than not, the only word that fits a situation -- these days, in particular, farklemt). And to wish them all peace and grace in the year to come.


As for my year to come, I hope to get back to the mission of my blog. I hope to send comfort food recipes out, and humorous anecdotes. I would like to veer away from the collective groan I imagine I hear, when readers land on a post and find my mood hovering over them like a gray cloud. Not my intent, I must assure you. It's just the nature of things at the moment.


So, in the spirit of chasing my blues away, let me close by sharing a story regarding my friend, Susan. For a long time, Larry and Susan were our movie buddies. On Saturday nights, we often went together to see a film, and to dinner afterwards. Often L&S picked the movie, as Billy and I were either too busy or too stupid to read reviews regularly (NPR has helped a lot on this front, but now we're too busy or too stupid to get outselves out to see movies...). Now, the really good thing about that arrangement, was that we often saw films we probably wouldn't have seen on our own. One of those was a film entitled Golden Door, written and directed by Emanuele Crialese, about Italian immigrants coming to the US around the turn of the twentieth century. It depicted a horrific crossing with graphic scenes of turbulence and strife. In the style of a Bertolucci film, the scenes were visually panoramic and lengthy. The steerage-class immigrants were thrown out of their bunks during an interminable storm which ravaged their primitive quarters. Passengers were injured, and inconsolable. A baby died and had to be buried at sea. This was a brutal, rough crossing. But near the end of their passage, there were these wondrous scenes which included scores of nude men in communal showers, and a multitude of women in a line, one behind the other, combing and pinning each other's hair. And more scenes followed, showing all of these bathed and coiffed men and women dressing -- obviously putting on their poor, shabby-best clothing to greet the new world. At this point, Susan, who was sitting next to me, leaned toward me and whispered . . . Looks like tonight's the Captain's dinner . . .


I laughed till I cried. And that is one of my favorite things to do. Wishing that for you all in this new beginning of the Autumn season. And to those of you celebrating, Shana Tova. And thank you for reading my blog.

One Thousand Hits

Los Angeles, California

About fifteen months ago, I sat down at a little, round, wooden table in the kitchen of Tucked In, the house we rent in Carmel each winter. My red Dell XPS laptop was open in front of me; my red Logitech mouse under my hand. I took a deep breath. Then, I took a great big, giant leap into the abyss of blogdom. Or so I thought. I mean, I did start my blog, but the anticipated abyss experience, not so much. Not that I knew that at the time, so I still want some cred for my courage.

My experience with blogs was fairly limited. I had purchased the book Julie & Julia, which is basically a blog transliterated to book form. I didn't like it much. In fact, it's one of the few books I've started to read but never finished. For those of you who saw the movie, but didn't read the book, you should be reminded that only half of the movie was based on this book. The half with Meryl Streep was based on an (auto)biography of Julia Child written with her nephew, Alex Prud'homme shortly before her death. That's a wonderful book, and I thought the movie would have been better if it had just been that half. But nobody ever listens to me.

Anyway, back to blogs. I was following a blog that I liked, which I still read today. It is called Orangette, and my blog probably somewhat faintly resembles it, as I have a tendency to be a sponge in all areas of my life, and this sometimes gets played out in syntax and writing styles. I was drawn to Molly Wizenberg's Orangette because it was long on food and short on Molly, though what was there about Molly was fun and interesting. I have long since forgiven her for the TMI of writing about losing her virginity, a story which she coupled with a recipe for Bread Salad with Cherries, Arugula, and (wait for it) Goat Cheese. For any of you following along, you might surmise that the goat cheese ingredient may have been my real issue about that particular post (I don't like goat cheese, which you can read about in previous posts available here, for free!). Anyway, Molly's wittiness and way with words, as well as a whole bunch of user-friendly recipes more than makes up what I consider to be the faux pas of sexual frankness amongst younger generations. But, what is that my business?

I also had a friend who started a blog. She wasn't a very close friend, but we had known each other for a long time. When she stopped answering my emails, I sent her a checking-in email to make sure she was alright. She wrote back as follows: If you want to know what is going on in my life, read my blog. Seriously. So, that set me WAY back on blogs. After all, what I got from that written comment (and knowing her well enough) was that in the future there would not be a dialog, but a lot of diatribes. No thank you very much.

So, I still had never considered writing a blog when I met Andrea Stark at a cocktail party in Lake Tahoe. I've chronicled this meeting in a previous post (available here, for free!), but I'll recap. She had just finished graduate school with a degree in Journalism, and she had started her blog the day before we met. She convinced me that this was a good idea (no small feat, in that I just met her that night, and I had come to the party without any thought of writing a blog, but came away considering it), as a blog could be a commitment to regular writing (what about my journal? Oh yeah, no one needs to read those rantings of a mad woman, so never mind). Anyway, after that conversation, I let the idea marinate for about five months, and then came that fateful day in the kitchen in Carmel.

I debated for about a nanosecond about what to call my blog. What would Sandra do? was a part of our daily vernacular here at Casa Healy. We continue to use it both in jest, and in times of serious decision-making. I had once told Sandra that I wanted to start an advice column, and call it What Would Sandra Do? As I recall, she said she would need to provide input on that. This, probably as a reflection of her wavering confidence in my ability to competently give advice. Point well taken. In practice, I have strayed a bit from my blog's original concept of questioning what would Sandra do? in various aspects of life. But I love the name, and consider it an homage to the wonderfulness of our very special friend, Sandra. So, WWSD it is, and so shall it remain.

Both Andrea and Molly used Google for their blogs, so I opened a gmail account and proceeded to set up my blog on Blogspot. This was not without incident. In fact, utilizing Blogspot is still at times confounding. I could never figure out how to set up a template for the recipes, so I have to figure out the layout of them every time I put one in, which is roughly every other post. Once the post is published, the indentations change and I have to put the post back into editing mode over and over again to get it to look halfway lined up. It's a challenge, and I suppose others have mastered this way better than me. But, let's be honest, design was never intended to be the strong suit of my blog. Nor photos, since I have only included three so far.

What I hope is the strength of my blog is my writing. Some of you have told me that you enjoy my sense of humor. Our special friend, Tracey, who lives in Hawaii (and who we call Lucy, but that's another post . . .), wrote that she enjoys reading my blog because she can hear my voice. That pleases me as writing a blog can feel like sitting in a room talking to yourself. So, I'm always happy to hear from readers, because it helps with that tree-falling-in-the-forest aspect of writing a blog. And I have especially enjoyed the comments that people have left on my posts, whether truly anonymously or you're-not-fooling-anybody-I-know-that-it's-you. So please do feel free and encouraged to leave a comment.

While I started blogging only as an exercise in writing, I soon realized that I really did want people to read what I wrote, and that I hoped they would enjoy at least some of it. When I began the blog, I told only a handful of people about it and more or less forbade them to read it. I didn't want to hold anyone hostage, in the way my blogging friend had attempted to hold me. And I was self-conscious about it. But, as time went by, I recanted and asked a few of my friends to check it out. Then I told a few more people about it. I haven't taken out any billboards for it (yet!), but gradually I have become more comfortable with my friends reading it, and I've enjoyed their feedback about it. Everyone has been kindly tolerant.

I know that some posts are better than others. I have my favorites. Other ones are not so good at all, especially the early ones when I was trying to find my way (I think my embarrassingly worst one is entitled This Side of Paradise. It is available here, but please, let's not go there). I know that there are errors, because I am still catching them. I'm careless with spellcheck, and have been known to change tenses midstream. I am still making changes and correcting errors even on the older posts; closing a parenthesis (I got a million of 'em) here and there, and tidying up in general. I am a relentless editor. I could take one post and continue to rewrite it on and on ad infinitum. But at some point, even I have to let the little posts go out into the world and be who they are. I am now fifteen months into the project. My blog has legs, though, at times, wobbly ones. It has taken on a life of it's own, and like Dr. Frankenstein's monster, it has let its own personality emerge. Even I sometimes wonder, who wrote THAT? And, of course, I more often wonder who read that? For in the middle of this month I passed the threshold of one thousand hits -- a hit (for those of you who don't know this) being a time when someone has navigated to my blog. So there is either one of you out there who has visited my blog a thousand times, or ten of you who have each looked at it a hundred times, or perhaps a thousand random web surfers who each landed there once and then got the hell out of Dodge. Who knows? It's a mystery.

Anyway, whatever your numbers out there, I thought you might be interested in my sharing some of the stats about my blog with you.


My Favorite Post:              It's so hard to choose a favorite amongst
                                                         your children. I am rather partial to both
                                                         The Monogram, and  Going To the
                                                         Mattresses (both posts available
                                                         here for free!)
 
Most Popular Post:           Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas


Most Hits in One Day:      20 (on April 21, 2011)

Average Hits in
One Month (currently):  157                          


Country of Origin
of Most Hits:                         USA (duh!)


Country of Origin
of Least Hits:                        Argentina


Total Countries of
Origin of Hits:                       15


Those Countries Are:     United States, Slovenia, Russia, China,
                                                          South Korea, India, Germany, Canada,
                                                          Norway, Poland, Malaysia, Singapore,
                                                          Arab Emirates, United Kingdom, and
                                                          Argentina (Don't cry for me . . .)


So, there you go. I have every intention of continuing to write What Would Sandra Do. I am also planning to enable the "Followers" gadget, so that you can become a follower if you are so inclined. I'm not quite sure why any of us would want to do that, but people have asked about it. I had some problems with it in the beginning, but hopefully I'll be able to set it up at some time in the future, now that I am no longer such a novice blogger.

And so, as the sun sets over the XPS we see our blogger riding off into the sunset with his trusty friend, the flying squirrel. Oops. I think I just dropped into a Rocky & Bullwinkle cartoon episode. Oh well. I told you I was a sponge. So, Sorry about that, Chief. Thanks for reading my blog, all one or one thousand of you. Really.