goods and heroes

intentional adventures, i.e. work

Fuller Park

Sherman Park

A diversion to Filbert's

Humboldt Park

North Pond (with own dangling camera strap)

Promontory Point

Graceland Cemetery

This is an amazing city and there's still so much more to see.

 

eating in museums, basements & gyms

My new heroes are the people who serve food to their local communities as a way to fundraise.  I'm not talking about fancy catered affairs with high ticket prices. I'm talking about grassroots events where regular folk flip pancakes, bake pies, brew coffee, wash dishes and serve home-cooked food to the hungry people who show up.

This past weekend, I was lucky enough to eat three meals of this sort. And each one made me very, very happy.

Friday night, somewhat impulsively, Ben and I found ourselves at the Swedish-American Museum for one of their Family Nights.  It just so happened that they were serving heart-shaped waffles to celebrate The Feast of Annunciation, commonly referred to as Vaffelsdagen--Waffle Day. So we had absolultely no choice but to have waffles for dinner. For a mere five bucks a perky blonde lady in a bright red apron brought us waffles straight from the iron. We slathered them with butter then a smear of berry jam and then a little pile of fresh whipped cream.  I was feeling really good about my Scandinavian lineage and the Swedish Museum as we munched away on our "vafflor." Ben was feeling pretty good about his waffles.

The very next morning I got up and headed over to the Mayfair Lutheran Church. On Wednesday while up at the North Park Village Nature Center, I'd overheard a couple of the octogenarian volunteers talking about an upcoming pancake breakfast. My ears tingled. On my way out I saw a funny little flyer at the front desk that specified that it was a Swedish Pancake Breakfast. So I instantly knew what my plans for Saturday morning were.

Sam was at a friend's on a sleepover and Ted & Ben were quite happy to sleep in a bit and snuggle in the covers. I went down into the Church's basement and was pleased to see my friend Sean, then my old friend Jim, who is the site steward at Gompers Park and then I saw a few of the volunteers from the Nature Center.

The pancakes were being made by two jovial gentleman while sleepy/shy tweenagers hung at the back of the kitchen slurping sodas and putting out plates and juice.

The pancakes were thin and spot-on in terms of crispness on the outside and soft inside but they were also huge. They wanted to give me three but I stopped at two. Another man, 70 years-young, shakily but sweetly put a fat sausage on my paper plate, someone else handed me a tiny cup of lingonberries. I made my way to my pals at the long table and proceeded to dress up my pancakes with butter and sugar. (That's how we ate them when I was little--only we called them rollcakes and my Grandma Ruthie didn't make them so big.)  As I ate the pancakes in the bustling basement, with a crowd that was mostly past their 60's and 70's, in a church I'd never been in before, I felt completely welcome and so happy to be there. And the pancakes were divine. I only wished Ben & Ted would have joined me. Ben would have been in heaven. (If one can be in heaven and in a church basement at the same time.)

 

The following afternoon all four of us headed to the gym of the Old Irving Lutheran Church.  This time for the Third Annual Three Brothers Chili Supper. Coordinated in part by my pal Sarah, I love this event because several generations of neighbors in the community pull it off and it feels so vibrant. Plus,  the chili's pretty-darned good and they always have the most inspired decorations. (I believe Sarah's responsible for those.) Over the years, I've gotten to know more of Sarah's friends and neighbors and so last night was like being at a raucous wedding or a really fun school dance, where you go around the gym and are so happy to see people and chat and catch up with them.

This event also had a sweets table and a raffle (Sam really, really wanted to win the overnight package at Key Lime Cove, but it didn't pan out) and my favorite new addition: a Cake Walk. You know, where they play the music and you walk in a circle and then when the music stops you land on a number. If they call your number, you win a homemade cake. Brilliant. I didn't win a cake, neither did Sam (he tried six times!) but we had fun regardless. I might have a Cake Walk at my next birthday. Only I'm going to rig it so that everybody goes home with a cake. Or a little mini cake.

Obviously every weekend one can't find themselves experiencing such amazing community-rooted food gatherings. (One being me eh.) But I am certainly going to keep my ears perked for more in the future. Heck, I might even put on an apron and help serve something. And if you know of one coming up, do please let me know!

 

more soup

I know, I've been talking about soup a lot lately. But just as we're about to move into spring, I think I'm at the tail end of my season of soup. So indulge me just a wee bit more on the soupy side of things.

Last night I served up Creamy Fennel Soup (with a Green Swirl) at Soup & Bread at the Hideout. What was special about this soup wasn't just that it was made from scratch or that it came from a recipe by David Tanis of Chez Panisse or even that 15 years ago I hadn't ever tasted fennel and had no intentions of every doing so. No, what was special about this soup is that Ted and I made it together.

With Ted not working right now and me working these freelance jobs that are hither and thither, well, we've been home together quite a bit. And with neither of us working a full-time gig there have certainly been moments of stress and panic that haven't always played out in the most model behavior. But I must say, being home together during the day while the children are at school has some really amazing perks. Like eating lunch together. Talking about writing. Snuggling and watching YouTube for fun & inspiration. And making soup. Together.

When Ted and I first got married he used to cook all the time. He was working on a novel and at the end of the day he actually liked the distinctly different creative outlet that cooking provided. It was food, not words. And let me tell you, it was divine. We would actually sit in bed and he'd read portions of Marcella Hazan's Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking aloud to me. I'd come home late from work and he'd be making gnocchi from scratch. Or throwing down some Arroz a la Tumbada from Ricardo Bayless. Or stirring up a creamy risotto that our friend Maria Theresa taught us to make with cheap champagne. He even got me to fall in love with Cabbage Soup!

But then he went and got a "real" job at an agency and then we had kids and then I don't know, he just kind of stopped cooking. It's funny how things can shift and just go away so easily. These days I spend a lot of time in the kitchen and most of the time I'm alone. But on Monday, facing a mountain of fennel bulbs and many onions, I did something I'm not always good at. I asked for help. I invited Ted into the kitchen. And Ted, smiled, grabbed the knife and the knife sharpener and dove right in.

We were chopping side by side. Hip to hip. Nothing profound happened as we chopped. Actually, I can't even remember what we talked about. Maybe something really racy like when Sam's next dermatology appointment is or how I'll handle the logistics of our upcoming trip to Florida. But instead of being alone in the kitchen and having the making of soup feel like a chore, I was in the kitchen with my husband and we were having a good time making something together.

Thank you, soup. And welcome back to the kitchen, Ted. It's good to be in it togther.

 

play

On Friday I hung out with about 40 five and six year-olds. We played with pinecones, rocks, sticks, seed heads, milkweed pods and other natural materials. We built small abodes for imaginary critters and fairies and whatnot. There weren't many rules and it was rather messy (but we didn't use any glue or tape).

 It was a blast.

And don't tell anyone, but someone actually paid me to do this. I know, wild.

swapping soup

We had ourselves a little Soup Swap here on Sunday afternoon. Actually, it wasn't so little and if you want to get all technical, it wasn't literally a swap. But it was a ton of fun and every person that arrived bearing three quarts of homemade soup went home with three different homemade soups. When I first sent the email out asking if anyone was game to come on over and swap some soup, I was hoping that maybe five or six soup-loving souls would say yes. We ended up having fifteen different soups -- there were 45 quarts of soup on our funny old table! Some in Zip-loc bags, others in jars, some in carboard containers and other in plastic tubs. Some came with garnishes such as chopped hard boiled egg, tortilla strips, cheese and cilantro, parmesan and even lovely green apples. Some were chunky, others were silky and they ranged from Polish Pickle Soup to New Year's Hot & Sour.

And the soup makers were a great mashup of family, friends, neighbors, former colleagues (and a lot of those categories tend to blend and bleed into each other) hanging out while the kids tore around the basement wearing capes, crowns and masks. This was my first time hosting any sort of a swap and it was a breeze to organize and a lot of fun to host.  The website SoupSwap (yes, such a thing exists) provided me with guidelines -- for example, for the first round of "swapping" we used the number-in-the-hat method that is suggested. But for the second and third rounds we got a little more creative, using birthdays (going backwards) and first initials of people's names. Also, I didn't go with the suggestion to have people bring six quarts of soup. That just struck me as way too much to make and take home. (I know I don't have room in my freezer for six quarts of anything!) So I halved it and went with the odd but lovely number of three. Nobody seemed to balk at that quantity.

I don't know for certain but it seemed like everyone went home happy and genuinely looking forward to trying their soup. I know I am. I was lucky enough to get Fran's Cream of Spinach Soup soup, (a gorgeous, grassy green, we're having for supper tonight) Teresa's Split Pea "Zupka" and the Kuzma's Chicken & Sweet Potato Stew. Oh and I made Creamy Artichoke soup. And it wasn't khaki-colored and it tasted like artichokes!

Now I am wondering what sort of food swap is up next . . . maybe a Bread Swap? Or perhaps a Pickle Swap? I'll keep you posted.