Pear Infusion!

The past month flew by in a blur. I am finally catching up, clearing the decks and, as it turns out, dumping my camera. Here are some goodies I had been harboring....the results of a countertop experiment.

Pear Infusion!













In jar #1 I used 3 Bosc pears, a bit of sugar to jump-start the infusion, and a bottle of Monopolowa Vodka.

In jar #2 I used 3 D'Anjou pears, a split and scraped Bourbon vanilla bean, a bit of sugar, and a bottle of Volganaya Vodka.

Prior to my experiment, I racked up icey shots of Monopolowa (Austria), Volganaya (Estonia), and Moskovskaya (Russia) vodka and did a vodka tasting. (Note: this is not your typical wine-tasting type sip and taste. I mean, vodka, solo, um, it's harsh!)

Hey! No raised eyebrows, 'kay? This was back before I got cranking on that Guidebook deadline...back when I was still in denial that I would have plenty of time to get it done...tick, tick...

The winner? If you're talking straight shots, for me it was hands-down the Moskovskaya, followed by the Volganaya in the smoothness category. The Monopolowa was down-right harsh. But I'm not a vodka-shooter type of girl, so making infusions with them seemed like the natural thing to do. And well, me being me, you just know I'm going to create a couple of cocktails with the final results...being the closet mixologist-er-spirit-enthusiast that I am.

Let the pictures attest that I began the infusion "experiment" on October 21st, left them abandoned under a dark towel on the counter, (alternately they could have been left in a dark cupboard under the sink), and I finally revisited them on Nov 14th.

(They might have been strained earlier if I was paying better attention, more, say, than the occasional sniff and swirl of the jar, but I had to clear out the clutter in preparation for that busstop family happy hour I was hosting, oh, you know, right in the final sprint of my writing blitz, as I was mere days to the delivery. OK, everybody needs a break now and then. It can't all be nose to the grindstone!)

At this time, 4 weeks later, I strained out and discarded the sliced fruit, then poured the liquid goodness through a strainer lined with a damp paper towel, then again through a coffee filter. Triple filtered to get out all the sediment! Then I funneled the results back into their original bottles, dating and labeling them.

Voila! My Pear Infusions worked.

I definitely think the Boscs produce a deeper pear flavor (and a darker color) and the D'Anjou is more subtle, although it does make a lovely combination with the vanilla bean. If I were to do this again, which I very well might, I will infuse the Volganaya with the Bosc, as the Monopolowa is just frankly a bit edgey, although less-so after the infusion.

For those keeping score, in fact, I did do another infusion post-deadline, but this time I infused the Volganaya with 3 or 4 sliced up Satsuma Mandarins from my full-to-bursting dwarf tree out back. For this creation I only needed to steep the fruit in the vodka for about a week...

...for it to transform itself into the most delicious amber-colored tangerine vodka I've ever tasted. OMG. That's a keeper! Right in time for Thanksgiving. And shaken with a splash of cranberry and a squeeze of lime, it's about the best Tango-Cosmo I've ever had! My fave new Tday cocktail.

But again, I digress. Pears. Vodka. Infusion. Alchemy. What to do with all that pear goodness...

Why, a Pear-Ginger.

1 part house-infused pear vodka
1 part gingerale
generous squeeze of lime

Shake, rattle and roll. Garnish with a long sliver of fresh pear.













oo. oo. and ooo! Pass the pears, please....

The Apple Jack

Fall Harvest is here!

In honor of the new crop of Gravenstein apple juice at our local Trader Joes (TJs), I offer up my latest creation, this delightful autumn sipper!

The Apple Jack

In a cocktail shaker half-filled with ice, mix together:

2 oz Gravenstein apple juice (or fresh crop apple cider)
1 oz french brandy (I used TJs Pierre Duchene Napolean VSOP brandy)
1/2 oz Bacardi Spice rum
splash of triple sec
large squeeze of lemon juice
1 tsp raw cane sugar (optional)

Shake well and strain into glass.
Garnish with a thinly sliced round of Granny Smith Apple.

Not your average kiddie juice cup.

Cheers, y'all! To an abundant harvest for each of us...

Mama Got A Facelift!

So.....

Don't you think it's been long enough since I posted?

I do.

So in light of my homecoming, not to mention the start of a new school year, I decided to give myself a whole new look. Courtesy of The Cutest Blog On The Block.

Hmmmm.... Where does one begin after such a long hiatus?

Why, with a cocktail, of course.

You may remember a story posted some time back about my Mission Fig Tree. No? Well, by all means, check it out here.



In the meantime, I am celebrating her abundant harvest with the following delightful summer sipper...

The Figgytini

The Figgytini

In a cocktail shaker, muddle together the following:

1 overripe fresh Black Mission Fig, cut in half, scoop inner flesh with a teaspoon (discard skin)

juice of 1/2 a Meyer lemon (lime will also work)

1/2 tsp of raw cane sugar (adjust depending on ripeness)

Half-fill shaker with ice. Add:

1 1/2 oz Makers Mark bourbon* (I find this compliments the figs tremendously more than vodka does)

Shake, shake some more, strain, and serve in a chilled martini glass. (You really need to break down the ice to make this one work.) Garnish with a wedge of fresh fig and a lemon twist, or a sprig of mint.

Cheers!

That's it for now, but I'll be back tomorrow with more to share....

When Life Gives You Lemons…

There are two things you can do:

1. Fall down into a hole of despair, or
2. Make lemonade

Folks, it’s been a bumpy ride around here. The ups and downs have been extreme. From the highs of riding the momentum of some good press, being inspired to expand my work in multiple ways, listening to Obama in town rallying for the people, combined with the sweet victory of our collective voices delaying the firing of all elementary school Assistant Principals across LA, we were feeling empowered. I was riding the wave of possibility, of transformation, of inspiration, of conceiving the formation of a collective ‘alliance’ of like-minded folks across boundary lines and neighborhood council districts, the feeling we will overcome, be invincible, create our new reality, more autonomy...we can DO this whole use your voice for change thing...We the People...rah, rah!

And then the reality hits, startlingly, like a punch in the face. Thousands of our fresh new teachers face potential pink slips. The AP job, while not eliminated completely, is still on the line. The downtown admins will always have seniority. The Fed Stim money is being held up at the state. (And when you consider how long our legislators hijacked our state budget, we have reason to worry!) We may never see that Stim money that's supposed to save teacher's jobs and support our schools. The special interests are already up there scrapping over it. And ludicrously we can't hold our school fundraiser until we pay district fees. Fees to the district to use our own school site for a fundraiser in order to raise money to pay for the things the district doesn't fund anymore. Hello!

I am also in a mother-daughter, my needs-her needs, guilt-ridden conflict. In my heart I know she's not getting what she needs, from me, from the school...and I never seem to have enough time.

What am I doing?
How can I sustain this?
How do we pay our bills?
My daughter’s not happy
I’m overworked and exhausted
It is never-ending, this uphill climb
I need supports, fresh supplies, a life!

At the core it is ugly. It seems they will always prevail. They always have more power, more money, more control. We are ants scurrying around under their footsteps as they wipe away the crumbs. Yet we keep building. Castles in the sand.

What we do for love. For our kids.

We have been bleeding over here, holding up the barracks.
Doing, in spite of.
Creating, without knowing how or if it will work.
Holding out hope.
Rallying for our position.

Yet I know it is just the beginning of a maelstrom. I have been in the boardroom, seen the inner-memos. I get the conflict of interests. The power of the unions. The gaping financial shortfall. The problems with the existing laws. The haves and the have-nots, the social services aspects, the immigration aspects, the middle class aspects, the big business consultants and lobbyists and the overwhelming bureaucracy of it all, each desperately trying to save its own livelihood.

We need the sword of Gryffindor. Excalibur. Cut the multi-headed dragon free. The beast intent on destroying itself and anyone in its path. But the children, our children, are in the belly of the beast!

Today, reaching my breaking point, the wind sucked out of my sails and figuratively down in the dumps, I’m not making my usual lemonade. Nor my adult version here. No, today I'm in need of something stronger. Something soothing yet packs a punch. Today I’m bringing out the big guns.

I'm muddling the Cuke.

Excuse me while I drink myself through this pickle I'm in!

The Cucumbertini

The Cucumbertini:

Muddle together the following ingredients at the bottom of a cocktail shaker until sloppy mush:

4-5 slices of English hothouse cucumber
The juice of half a big fat lime
1/2 teaspoon of sugar
2 fresh mint leaves, torn up

Then add:
Ice to fill half the shaker
1 1/2 oz vodka of choice

Shake the hell out of it until most of the ice is broken down and you can barely pry your fingers off the cold metal. Strain into a martini glass and garnish with an additional slice of cucumber. Ahhhh.

Wow. I’m already:
1. Feeling better
2. Thinking up the next concoction....hmmmm.

I'm gathering ideas for a new cocktail, The Pink Slip. (Not an official firing, just the preliminary notification as per the collective bargaining agreement that one might be fired, so all those thousands of teachers, my daughter’s included, can spend the next several months teaching in a climate of fear, worry, job insecurity, and anger. You know, the best possible environment for kids.)

Send me your suggestions now. You know, deceptively optimistic, but packs a deadly blow.

I always say, there’s something about public schools and cocktails that just seems to go hand-in-hand!

Cheers!

Wah

My Guy didn't win. So disappointing. Even worse was the super low turnout at the polls.

If parents would only realize that at 2 parents per child, and anywhere from 20-35 students per teacher, not to mention contractor, sub-contractor, soil tester, facilities manager, or architect to drill a screw into the wall, etc, we FAR out-number that union vote by a landslide.

Parents need to WAKE UP to the sheer power of our numbers and stop being so f'ing apathetic and MUTE!!

(There. I have sufficiently de-irked for the moment.)

Now, about that blood orange martini...

fresh blood...

excuse me while I go bleed for a bit...

Blood Orange Martini, For Real

Here's the real deal:

The Blood Orange Martini

- juice one fresh blood orange

- generous dose of vodka of choice

- optional shake of Peychaud's bitters

shake, strain, serve, repeat!

Cleaning House

Today I spent a good part of the day cleaning my house. I mean the kind of pull apart the furniture, get up on a stool, roll out and hose down the potted trees kind of cleaning. Shaking out and refitting the slipcovers, de-cobwebing the ceiling with an upside-down broom, pulling off and bleaching the musty grey-once-were-white sheers, and Windexing both sides of every louvered windowpane, all 70 of 'em, that kind of cleaning.

It's amazing how much dirt accumulates when you ignore it and let it fester.

I've been so busy cleaning up the community--and the little school that could in particular--I've neglected my own house.

Listening to a couple of long-bookmarked / podcasts on our current economic "situation," a couple of things occurred to me while I worked.

We always have exactly what we need. Even when we can't see it. It's always there.

Funny to hear that bauble of wisdom when from all outer appearances, it appears that we're losing everything, that it's all falling apart at the seams, economically-speaking.

For months I've been hearing the phrase, use what you have. From gathering disparate pantry items for a quick dinner to swapping out babysitting with a neighbor to coming up with a solution for the school, there are resources right in front of us if we only open to them. As if in our disconnect, we somehow forgot we came from perfect abundance and we're always provided for, we always have exactly what we need. In perfect time. Even when we can't see it. Even when we think we want something else. Even when it's cracking at the seams.

This house has become a shell - a place to come in, drop a pile of papers, campaign madly, go to meetings, express frustrations, hear more frustrations, dump more madness, hear more anger, more tenseness, more anxiety, feed everybody, get them cleaned and to bed, and up again and dressed, and exit according to the day's unrelenting schedule….each day folding into the next, rarely a breather.

Years pass in this virtual motion. Pull in to the micro-focus and surf the wave of minute-by-minute emotions, passions, exchanges and issues…then pull waaaay back and the whole thing looks like a guitar string after it is plucked and vibrating…a blurry bzzzzzzz….. a single suspended note, insignificant amidst the cacophany.

Today, I am taking back my house. I am recreating home. I am ending the siege I've been on (strong word, I know), to make up for where others don't see fit to contribute. I'm stepping aside for a moment, gathering my collective thoughts.

You know that theory that 20% of the people do 80% of the work? In our school it's more like 10% of the people, always the same 10% doing 90% of the work, and then they bash us for "elitism" or "cronyism"...or worse...as if we prefer doing it all by ourselves, as if we couldn't use any help. Are they really too weak or indifferent to pitch in? In a community system, this ratio just doesn't work. It's unsustainable.

There's got to be a difference between giving someone a hand, and giving someone a hand-out.

If we're going to build a system where the community all benefits, particularly benefits from the hard-fought labors of a very small group of savvy, entrepreneurial doers, then everybody has got to come together and do their part--no matter what their contribution is. Making taquitos, running the copier, reading in the classroom, weeding the gardens, or direct cash donation. It's foolish to think we are building community when only a fraction of the whole is doing all the work for everyone else's benefit. That's not community. That's a welfare state. That's taking advantage. That's being a sucker…either sucking the strength out of the whole or being sucker enough to give it all away in the first place.

So? At home I move my furniture back and hang up the newly white curtains. A soft breeze blows fresh air through the windows while sunlight dapples the honeyed floorboards. It feels good to create this beauty and revitalization in my own house. My home. Our home. For the three of us. Effort for our direct benefit. I know I should be productive in other areas, but this effort is making me feel buoyant today.

Next I'm out in the yard pulling a few stray vines. Again I am reminded at how much neglect there has been to our home and property. We need a roof. We need some serious yard cleanup. My hair, my body, even my toenails, all need a serious overhaul. Neglect. Everywhere neglect…all our energies have been going out of here devoted to the whole, at the expense of the one.

I begin scooping copious amounts of algae-ridden waterweed growing rampant at the bottom of the pond threatening to take over the lilies and decorative potted bog plants. The whole system is overgrown, decaying, and in need of an overhaul. With each scoopful, a thick black sludge of compacted fish debris once settled around the roots comes rising up, spreading ink clouds towards the surface of the water, impeding any clear perspective. Shit.

It has to get dirty before it can be cleaned out, otherwise you wouldn't even notice the difference or bother to do anything about it. And/or, things start to look worse before they get better.

Perhaps the whole thing has to fall, fall apart, before any true progress can be made. I'm thinking about the whole school district, second largest in the country. Break it up! Let it fall. Maybe it should go bankrupt. Like everything else. Then we can truly transform.

I check my email. The Courage Campaign announces that the state of California is $41 BILLION DOLLARS in debt. We are on the brink of bankruptcy. Tens of thousands of public workers are being laid off today and more tomorrow. Our state legislators have been in a budget gridlock for months now, perhaps almost a year. It was last April when I was up in Sacramento campaigning on behalf of our children and their schools…. We are one vote away from the 2/3 majority we need to pass a budget. Seriously. They say it's down to one Republican. So close, and yet so far away. Still. While so many lives hang in the balance...these legislators don't seem to notice.

I have been ambivalent about next steps. Although clear, I cant quite seem to muster the stamina or wherewithall. I can't crusade forever. You fix one thing and then there's another…and another…ad infinitum. Ad nauseum. My daughter's in first grade and I've already begun campaigning to clean up our middle schools. What am I thinking? How can I sustain this? Where does this drive come from? I can't hold the bridge up for everybody!

After years of putting out for the greater good, today I'm holding out for myself. After years of calling "all for one and one for all" while only a very few of us were in there trying to make things better, today I'm decidedly being self-focused. I'm cleaning MY house. I'm cleaning out my OWN pond scum. I'm searching for my own clarity and solutions, as surely they are there. All that we need is always right there, I know it. Perhaps I just can't see it. Perhaps it is just hidden under the surface of cumulative dirt and debris.

Tonight as sure as I'm writing this I'm making a freshly squeezed cocktail in a crystal clear glass, in my sparkling clean house, while reveling in the surrounding beauty my attention has created.

I deserve this. I earned this abundance, even if it was here all along.

* * *

The Ruby Red

Post Script: Tonight I created this beauty:











The Ruby Red

2 parts freshly squeezed ruby red grapefruit juice
1 part premium vodka
3 sloppy shakes of Peychaud's bitters
splash of cranberry juice
plenty of ice

Shake, strain and serve!
(note: a squeeze of lime would have been nice, but I didn't think of it until afterwards.)

Cheers!

PPS. A California State Budget was passed early this morning. (Thurs, Feb 19) Phew.

Pomegranatini

Yes, we're all well now, thanks for asking. And even though much of December felt like a wash, sometimes a beautiful cocktail is just what the doctor ordered to get back into the spirit of things. With that in mind, I share the following treasured holiday libation.

Pomegranatini

Rim your martini glass with a mixture of sugar and finely microplaned orange zest.

Fill a cocktail shaker half-way with ice and mix together the following:
1 part vodka
1/2 part triple sec
2 parts pomegranate juice

Shake well, strain into your prepared glass and garnish with a few fresh pomegranate seeds.

Like a vamped-up lipstick on pale, wintery skin, this bold ruby cocktail packs some va va voom for the holidays. And speaking of holidays, I hope you all had a nice one and may your new year be filled with great things.

Mostly I'm praying for peace.

Cheers!

11/4...7...12...13...(now with photo)

Been meaning to post, but each time I sit down to write, life seems to get in the way. So much life, so little time to document it. Specific items from the ever-swelling list, get checked off, and are soon forgotten. Just what the heck have I been busy with these last few weeks and months?

It's a blur, really, a hazy memory. In the post-glance of speed, there is, really, no point of articulation, just motion, then not. And a crick in my neck from trying to stay focused while boulders and galaxies fly by: obligations to the ever-flailing school, this committee, that committee, communications to the administration, the professional development mentor, the booster club, the new "experimental" teacher, then there's the obligations to my family, my husband, his infirmed father, the needs and extreme nighttime neediness of my daughter, the kinder community, the toddler moms, the workout circle, the neighborhood co-op, the Westside parents needing school advice, the 16 projects I'm spread too thin on, and the immediate ones that require promoting, the ongoing what's for dinner, what are you bringing to the potluck, and the what day is it-who's doing the pickup?

To pick up where we left off, I can say this: The smoke has cleared, the air is clear, and we have a lot to be grateful for.

In the meantime, life goes on. We have our own set of paddles and with much effort are navigating our own set of currents, each of us. We are not struggling to save our home from wildfires, or bankruptcy, or dodging bombs, or anything so dramatic or newsworthy. Still, so much effort is expended. So much effort…and so little rest.

I am reminded of a few thoughts that bubbled up over the last year while doing my practice: What if this was the break? How do I learn to rest while in motion? And, be grateful for the soft, the hard, the picking through rough terrain, each with its own unique benefit and challenges. I've been through the picking through landmines months, where I was trying to deftly navigate a fragmented and intensely partisan terrain, and then these last weeks were just plain hard, challenging, and emotionally draining. I should feel so alive, purposeful, with something to push off against as I continue with forward motion, yet frankly I am ready for soft.

I took a vow a few days ago after delivering a fast and furious project, that I would take on no more commitments for a month. Except for what I had already committed to, I am clearing the decks folks. Erecting boundaries. Exhaling stress and obligation and worry, and taking in healing and nurturing, and joy. What a concept.

It feels like a major decision for me, like I might be able to remove the hard shell of tortoise-like responsibility, and what, discover a whole new soul underneath. That's the girl I want to find. She's the one who unencumbered, can really move: the softer, leaner, more effective, more decisive me.


I'm raising that blood orange martini to her.

(Somehow even the blood of the blood orange feels like the appropriate drink right now.


…They don't make chamomile martinis, do they?)



* * *

Blood Orange Martini

I'll beat you to the question:

Blood Orange Martini Recipe

3 parts Italian blood orange soda (I find this at Trader Joe's, but Target also has a brand)
1 - 1 1/2 generous parts vodka
1/2 part cointreau or triple sec

Vigorously skaken over a lot of ice and strained into a delightful martini glass that has been rimmed with a mixture of sugar and finely grated (micro-planed) orange zest. Garnish with a thin wheel of orange, or blood orange if you have it. Cheers.

(Here ya go with the photo op...recipe tested and consumed

repeatedly...)

Still Peachy

You don't have to go to Georgia to enjoy a fresh peach. No, in LA you just need a little patch of dirt, some sunshine, a baby sapling, and about 8 or 9 years. Oh, and the right amount of "chill hours" each winter to set the fruit.

Luxuriating in the peachy bounty our little tree has offered us of late, may I suggest we raise our Bellini glasses in a hearty cheers. The Bellini--a signature drink made from a combination of fresh white peach puree and Prosecco--is the creation of Giuseppi Cipriani at his infamous Harry's Bar in Venice, Italy, where white peaches were fragrant and plentiful. Ernest Hemingway and Orson Welles were said to have held court among others sipping this delightful nectar, finding inspiration in its bounty amidst the grandeur of the canals.

Our homegrown yellow peaches make a delightful version. Sweet and perfumey, slightly tart and effervescent, the Bellini is a delightful summer sipper. And with one of those handheld stick blender gizmos, fresh peach puree is a snap to make. Just don't forget to skin the peaches first.

But another amazing discovery is the Peachy Chicken I referenced a post ago.


Take one whole chicken roaster, rinsed and patted dry. Place in a roasting pan. Slide a few pats of butter under the breast skin and slather with a good dose of (homemade) peach jam or preserves. Season with salt and fresh ground black pepper.

Then, chop up 3 or 4 celery stalks and a red onion in large chunks and add to the pan, scatter in a handful of garlic cloves in their skins, and finish with a few sprigs of fresh thyme and/or Italian parsley.

Slide the sucker into a 375 degree oven and roast for about an hour and a half, basting frequently.
The skin deepens and caramelizes from the peach sugars, but as the veggies break down and give off their juices, their aromatic flavors tame everything to a mellow roasty balance of sweet and savory.

Served hot or cold, this one is a winner. And don't toss those veggies. I eat them straight out of the pan standing over the stove as a "cook's treat." In fact, next time I think I'll add 2 red onions and more cloves of garlic to serve on the side of the sliced chicken.

Bon appétit.

The Lemondrop Martini

Well in that case, Ms. Caffeinated, I shall oblige.

I get nostalgic just thinking of the glass, frosty chilled, the crunch of the sugar rim, with the palest of hue inside, lemon wedge bobbing. It helps if you pick your lemons fresh and squeeze them on the spot. This is an adult refresher that's not too sweet, not too tart, no garish neon or pucker here. This is NOT dessert in a glass. Nor is it your kid's powdered lemonade stand made into a martini. It is the real deal. Simple, elegant, restrained. Done well, it's timeless.

Ahhh, The Lemondrop Martini....a most perfect summer sipper.

Fill cocktail shaker halfway with ice. Add in:

1 1/2 oz vodka of choice
1/2 oz triple sec
1 t. simple syrup (made ahead)
3/4 oz freshly squeezed lemon juice (I prefer Meyer lemons if you can get them)

Shake and strain into chilled sugar-rimmed martini glass.
Garnish with a lemon wedge.


Cheers!