Kale Recipes, Cheap and Easy

Get more from your greens without shelling out the greenbacks.  Kale is a wonderful dark, leafy vegetable, found this time of year at bargain prices from your local supermarket and friendly local farmer.  All hail the glorious kale!  Step aside, you pale and withering icebergs!  Make way, you mounds of pompous field greens!  Here comes the kale —rich in antioxidants, vitamins and minerals and now, made delicious with a few culinary tricks.  All that, and it comes in several varieties, including dinosaur kale.  Tell that to your preschooler and see if they’ll shun it now.  “Come to the table, kids and eat your dinosaur kale!”  My oldest eats in out of the bag, raw.  It’s all I can do to get through the market and to the check-out stand before she’s eaten half the bag.

Here are a couple kale recipes to get you started:

Pan-Seared Tofu and Kale Salad with Lemon-Soy Vinaigrette
This is delightful dish I make on a regular basis, taken from the newspaper and altered only slightly to my tastes.  We serve it with brown rice (not white rice; really, white rice was made by the devil, boxed with a picture of a perfectly nice-looking Black man and sold to the unenlightened.  I mean it, ditch the white rice and eat the brown stuff.  You’ll get used to it, I swear, and then there will be no going back.) and even eat it all mixed together the next day for lunch.

Ingredients:
1 block of firm tofu (10 oz., says the recipe)
¼ low sodium soy sauce (because why blow the health benefits with a ton of salt)
2-3 tablespoons lemon juice, about ½ a lemon’s worth
2 tablespoons honey (though I don’t think I put in that much)
2 tablespoons sesame oil (or toasted sesame oil; either one will do)
1 tablespoon olive oil
black pepper
8 cups chopped kale (a big bunch or two smaller bunches; either curly or dinosaur kale)
½ cup peanuts (salted or unsalted, whichever you munch on during snack time)

Cut the tofu into bite-sized cubes and let it all drain on a paper towel or cloth.  Whisk together the soy sauce, lemon juice, honey, sesame oil and pepper.  Add the tofu to the mixture and slosh around to get all the pieces nice and marinated.  Let it hang out for about 10-15 minutes, or however long it takes you to wash and slice up the kale (in addition to listening to your babbling kids/spouse/neighbor/friend if needed, or trying to catch the baseball/hockey/basketball/soccer score on the radio).
Here’s the best way to slice that kale:  First find yourself a large knife.  Carefully carve out those thick ribs out of the center of each leaf—I slice up one side and down the other with the point of the knife.  Then you want to chop it finely—a nice julienne will do, about ¼- ½ inch thick.  Put all that into a bowl.  It’s good to have a bowl that’s not too wide, because in a few minutes, you’ll need to put something over it—a cutting board or lid.  You’ll see why in a couple sentences.
Heat up your olive oil in a non-stick skillet (anything other than non-stick for tofu, and you may end up with a scramble and some tears of frustration) on medium-high heat.  Now that your tofu’s looking well-coated, gently lift it into the hot pan, without the marinade.  Let the tofu sizzle and brown for 2-3 minutes, and then gently turn and rotate them, so each cube gets a turn in the middle (the hottest part of the pan) and gets brown on more than one side.  Give ‘em a few more minutes and then carefully add the rest of the soy sauce mixture.  Let it bubble and boil for another minute, and then pour it all over your big bowl of kale.  Put a cover/lid/cutting board over the top and let the heat of the tofu and the marinade wilt and warm the kale for a couple minutes.  Toss the peanuts in and gently mix the salad, so as not to break up your gloriously browned chunks of tofu.
Voila—dinner!

This next recipe was taken originally from Martha Stewart’s fine little Living mag, but I altered my photocopied (from the library,of course,) version that I can hardly understand my own corrections.  The good news, is that I make it often enough, and enough of it to share—to rave reviews, that I feel that I can call it my own without suffering the wrath of the cooking and entertaining mogul/maven.  Notice, however, that there is no link (or link back) to Ms. Stewart and her publication.  I may be broke, but I’m not stupid.

Kale and Rice- Stuffed Peppers
2 cups kale, finely chopped
1/4 cup orange juice (from the orange, or from the juice pitcher—either is fine)
½ cup chopped onion
2 tbsp. olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
½ tsp. coriander
½ tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. cumin
salt and pepper
1 can (12-14 oz.) crushed/chopped tomatoes (not the kind with the basil)
2 cups cooked basmati rice (see white rice vs. brown rice note above)
½ cup raisins
½ cup almonds, coarsely chopped
2 large red peppers

Sautee your kale in a frying pan on medium heat for about 3 minutes, and then add the orange juice, stirring it around until most of the liquid has evaporated.  Set it aside and let it cool.  Next, heat up your olive oil (the same pan is fine, and cuts down on the dish-washing) and add the onion.  Let them cook on medium-high heat until they’re wilt-y and less pungent, then add the garlic and cook for another minute.  Add your coriander, cumin, and cinnamon, salt and pepper and bathe all those lovely onions in spice.  Lower the heat and add your tomatoes and rice.  Stir around about until the mixture is thick and the aroma is delicious—5-7 minutes or so, then toss in the raisins and almonds and take it off the heat.  In a large bowl, mix the kale and your rice concoction together.  While it’s cooling a bit, take your peppers and chop of their heads (or rather, their tops.  You may do impersonations of either the Queen of Hearts or Henry VIII as you do so, but not in front of the pets or the children; you don’t want to frighten them.  Unless of course, they get the joke and think it’s funny, too) and pull out the ribs and seeds.  Now you’re ready to stuff those peppers with the rice and kale filling.  There will be lots of extra stuffing, so just put that in the bottom of a baking/casserole dish and then place the peppers in on top.  Plunk a lid or foil on top of the dish and bake in the over on 350 degrees for about 20 minutes.  Hearty and delicious!

Note for carnivorous omnivores:  A half-pound of cooked ground beef or ground turkey mixed in with the stuffing could be yummy, too.  Just go ahead and brown it in the pan after you’ve wilted those onions.  Then add the garlic and carry on with the rest of the recipe, including the corny literary and historical impersonations.  Over and out. 

Try it, let me know if you like it… or not.  And most important, EAT MORE KALE!

 

cheers and thanks to Russell Yip of the San Francisco Chronicle for the Tofu Salad pic

For further healthy cooking (and eating!) read this:

*Chicken Broccoli Casserole -by fabulous guest blogger, Andrea
*Tamale Pie (after the pic of the green Le Crueset)
*My Grandmother’s Salmon Loaf (at the bottom of the post)

New Year’s Resolution– Contentedness

I wish I lived in rural (fill in the blank: Tennessee, Virginia, Northern California, upstate New York) and had an old fixer-upper farmhouse with

1. Chickens
2. Goats
3. Dogs
4. kids
5. All of the above

in the yard.
But I don’t.

We live in an apartment building in the middle of a built-up suburbs that borders on a small city.  We live in a neighborhood made for yuppies, not homesteaders.  My kids roam our balcony and walk to the ice cream place.  My husband rides his bike to work, and the closest thing we have to a pet are siblings and half a dozen musical instruments.  We rent instead of renovate.  I have to swipe my debit card to do laundry instead of hanging it out on the line to dry in the sun.  I try not to daydream of organic garden beds, and instead we shop at the farmers market.  Maybe I’ll put potted herbs on the balcony come springtime.

the extent of my flower garden, hanging on the balcony

I long to write books at my desk in my study and stare out the window at the kids playing on the back forty, but I may have to content myself with the laptop on the couch and wondering at the guy sunbathing at the apartment complex pool in the middle of January.   At least that will be better fodder for novels.  Or perhaps I could start with simply cleaning off my desk, and enjoy the luscious potted plant that sits on the attached bookcase.

Like just about everybody else on God’s green/brown/icy/grey earth, I have to be content with what I’ve got—and I’ve got A LOT.

I have a family that is learning to love each other unconditionally, two babies that are learning to move and communicate, three kids and a husband who love food, cooking, baking, chocolate, fresh pears and the smell of cinnamon.

yep, my hubby makes sushi.

I have matching vintage green velvet chairs and a love seat that we worked hard to find and bargain for, and an extensive wardrobe full of adventures and memories.

This New Year, I’m going to strive for contentedness, and next month for Valentine’s Day, I’m going to fill it with more love.

I know, Fiest already sang it here, but…

Maternity Leave for the Self-Employed

I am currently on maternity leave until September.  It will have been a year since I was fully employable and four months since I left work completely.  I may or may not have much of a job when I return.
Such is the working life of the self-employed.  My income never has any guaranteed minimum, and after taking all this time off to be large and pregnant and then care for two newborns, it’s bound to take a hit.
Being self-employed, I am both the employer and the employee and am taxed accordingly—nifty, no?  I am the dancer, dance instructor, promoter, and financial organizer.  I am lucky to have a live-in, free web designer—thanks, Hubby.

I’m hoping that with a couple of emails here and a few there, I may resume my teaching once a week without much change in my enrollment numbers.  Classes are typically slow in the summer, so coming back to teaching in September shouldn’t impact that income.  Since leaving the restaurant back in November, due to wracking morning sickness and my rapidly swelling mid-section, the owners have since decided not to have dancers.  I’m hoping that through a few connections, I may be able to do restaurant gigs once a month—or at the very least make a regular sub list.  But then again, my more-than-full-time gig as the mother of three children may make that difficult.  We’ll see.  The problem is, my mommy gig doesn’t help pay the bills or pad the savings account.  I hope to keep accepting private party opportunities (bellydancers make birthday and anniversary parties fantastic, by the way; people will talk about your event for years to come, I swear…yes, hire me) the way I did last summer and fall.  Once my abdomen began to swell, I had to stop with that, though.  The twins did make an appearance at a birthday party, albeit cleverly disguised in an alternative costume that covered my stomach.

And then there’s writing.  Which I can do while sitting on my living room floor, or propped up in bed with a babe at the breast—though I have yet to really master one-handed typing.  It’s my hope that my writing will provide more and more over the years, as it fits into the schedule of carpooling, dinner-making and bedtime story- reading much better than having to pile on the mascara and sequins and going out to perform.  Though I would miss the dancing if I didn’t do it.  Another dilemma of self-employment—when to retire.

Whether dancing or writing, the Destitute and Obscure keep creative and persevere, cobbling together a living and a lifestyle that keeps food on the table and our souls well nourished.

Stay at home mom vs. working mom– or both

Ms. D is currently on maternity leave of sorts (more on that subject shall come later) and is recycling a bit of writing she did for a mothers’ group a couple years ago.  She hopes you continue to enjoy the subject, despite the fact that the writing is not current.  You may look forward to more of Lifestyles’ wit and charm in the future, as soon as she has enough sleep to operate the articulate parts of her brain.  Cheers.

My husband was at work a few months ago, talking with a customer who was shopping with his toddler.  The two fathers exchanged a few pleasantries about their kids, and then the other dad asked my husband when his wife’s ‘shift’ began, meaning when did my husband go home to take over child-rearing while I got ready and went off to work.

“Oh, my wife doesn’t work,” my husband replied.  “She’s a full-time, stay-at-home mom.”
“Wow,” said the other dad.  “She’s lucky.”

Ah, yes. Lucky.

When my husband recounted this little exchange, my first reaction was to refrain from verbally ripping his head off in self-righteous anger, since after all, he wasn’t the one who naively blurted out such a loaded cliché.  Instead, I took a deep breath and asked if he could instead tell people that I was a dance instructor.  This would alternatively categorize me as a part-time-working-stay-at-home-mom, and come closer to increasing my title to an entire line of hyphenation.

Do I feel lucky– lucky to be living back at my parent’s house again, at the age of thirty-five, this time with husband and child in tow?  Or am I lucky to be a stay-at-home mom (this command-infused label makes me feel a little like a dog in obedience school) because the cost of full-time daycare far outweighs my wage-earning potential?  Am I lucky to stay home and do the laundry, the vacuuming and the cooking, all while being responsible for the developmental, social, and physical well-being of a toddler, all in a manner that is both entertaining and efficient?

Lucky—like I tripped over a four-leaf clover and ended up with this life, or like I didn’t have any particular opinion or power over what happened.
Did my lifestyle ‘happen by chance’?  It sure doesn’t feel that way to me; I vaguely recall having an active part in creating it.  Luck is where you find it, or maybe it is what other people have that you don’t.  Luck is the name we give to something when we don’t have the courage to call it hard work and sacrifice.

But do I want to be considered unlucky?        

My cousin is a paramedic and her husband works for the county sheriff.  When her little girl was three months old, she had to go back to her twelve-hour graveyard shifts.  She and her husband work lots of overtime hours in order to pay down the debt they accrued to buy land and a house in which they could raise a family.  When she found out that I wasn’t working after having my first child, she gave a half-sigh and said knowingly, “Oh, you’re so lucky.”  Perhaps I am, but she’s lucky enough to own a home in a community where she can raise her children and where they all can live for years to come.  My cousin also is extremely lucky to live next door to her mother, who cares for her the children when both parents are at work.
Perhaps I am just old-fashioned, or perhaps I am setting a new trend.  Mostly, I just feel poor, and this is the way my family and I have chosen to live, so that we can provide for our child and ourselves in the best way possible.  Every bit of it, however, is a choice.

So, am I lucky?  You bet I am.  I am lucky to have a fully engaged part in raising my own child, and lucky that her dad is there when I have to go to work.  Her grandparents are lucky, too, that they get to spend two years of her life under the same roof (a roof that they have heaven’s graciousness to provide) and get to watch her learn, and grow and explore.  I am extremely lucky to have a career, however small, that I could easily return to after having a baby, and about which I am still quite passionate.

Lucky?  I guess, but I planned it that way.

shamrock courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

When company comes over– aka we live here

If you come over to our house to share a meal, you will be able to share what I planned for our family’s meal—not a fancy creation for which I scoured some elaborate entertaining cookbook.  If there’s more than one of ya’ll, you may be asked to bring a salad, bread, dessert or libations—we have two grocery stores near our house if you need to stop there.  My young child will sit at the table with us, because this is how one learns table manners and how to interact politely with strangers.  And if you stay long enough, you will be able to change your table manners and conversation after those young ears and absorbent mind go to bed.  You are more than welcome at my house, but we live here.
I might have vacuumed and I did make sure that everyone’s socks are out of the living room.  I probably folded the afghan and draped it over the back of the couch.  But I did not erase all signs of our life.  You will not see my living room photographed for House Beautiful.  I live in a rental apartment, so we will not be featured in Dwell for our chic and environmentally-friendly design concepts—though you may note that we use eco-friendly dish soap, because we will not stop you from helping with the dinner dishes if you insist.  You will also not have to worry about spilling your drink on the designer furniture or getting fingerprints on the fine artwork.  We live here, and as our guest, we expect you to settle in and act like you live here, too.
If the weather is nice, we may sit out on the balcony and enjoy watching the sunset over the city skyline, and then you may notice my husband’s bicycle—our ‘other car.’
If you need to use the bathroom, you will see what kind of toothpaste we use.  You can explore our books and see my husband’s entire record collection.  He’ll even take your requests if you see something there you’d like to hear. 
You can see that my desk is cluttered, much like my mind, but at least you know it’s being used.

We are not shy or embarrassed about our home, as we are not shy or embarrassed about ourselves.   This is who we are, and we live here.

Times are lean.

I don’t know where the money is going to come from to cover the cost of the $50 humidifier.  I don’t know why it is that Comcast decided to wait until now to charge us for the month of July and thus double our internet bill.  I don’t know how I’m going to pay rent and buy enough food for my family without continuing to drain our ever-dwindling ‘emergency’ savings.  Though perhaps the brink of starvation would be an emergency.  Fortunately we’re not there yet.
I find myself hoping that my co-worker in dance will continue to have knee problems that keep her out of the restaurant and myself in business.  I don’t wish her ill, per se— it’s just that I need the money.
We’re eating lots of beans and rice.  And soup— frozen from more prosperous times.  I’m using the internet double-time to make it double-worth-it.  My knitting projects consist of scraps leftover from previous blankets and scarves.  I intend to use my child’s free Halloween candy for meals… okay, not really, but I wish they had been handing out fresh fruit and vegetables or maybe a loaf of bread and ½ dozen eggs at the mall.
I feel fortunate to be able to pull random things from a bag of donated Gymboree seconds, and it looks like my child will have enough shirts and socks to get through the winter.  I’m not sure where we’ll get the money for a winter coat.  Fortunately, it’s still warm outside and California winters are usually pretty mild.  My husband and I desperately need socks (and socks from here would be nice, but that may be in a richer, though probably no less obscure time… if you have the money, ahem, these socks rock… but I digress)   but again, the continued warmth means we’re still in sandals most of the time.
So what am I doing besides rockin’ it like Bon Jovi and ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’?
Soup works, despite the warm weather.  We walk most places and I use the library’s snail-pace internet for school when I can’t spring for the $1.80 that a cup of Peet’s coffee and an hour of wi-fi will get me.
I discovered H&M for kids, which is not only inexpensive and less cheap than Target, but also not made in China.  Which means I can still have my standards when I’m poor.  We managed a preschooler’s birthday party on about $100, including food and cupcakes for kids and adults alike.  I nixed the goody-bag idea because most of that crap is from China and breaks about an hour after it gets home.  Then it sits around the house for three months before it gets put into the trash and on to the landfill.  So I sent them home with a balloon (minimal waste, though admittedly momentary fun) and a self-decorated pumpkin (edible if you choose, but definitely compostable).
We will entertain on rainy days with videos from the library and homemade play-dough—see recipe below.  The last of the home improvement and decorating ideas have been put on hold, but before we put up storage shelves in the kitchen, we have to make sure water doesn’t drip down the inside of the wall during the rain… again.  So I guess it’s a blessing that we didn’t get those shelves up before last month’s momentary deluge.
I’ve entering the big, bad, wild world of ebay (anybody want a nearly new fluffy green bathrobe?), and managed to sell a few Anthropologie items from my days of being a stylish employee, and maybe a few more.  That money will hopefully put a dent, or at the very least a scratch, in my rising credit card bill.  That said, my credit card debt is nothing like the national average, and I console myself with this thought and at the same time practice iron-clad self-control to keep it from getting there.
Next, there will be serious research into scholarships for poor and stylish library students, as well as the great cesspool of paperwork that entails getting on the waiting list for subsidized housing.

Barring all that, perhaps we’ll camp out in the city square and take up residence at one of the Occupy Wall Street protests.
Anybody got a tent we can borrow?

Homemade Play-Dough
(good, cheap fun to make and play with, and if it goes in their mouths, at least you know what they’re eating)

1cup flour
½ cup salt
2 teaspoons cream of tartar (it’s in the spice section, in case you didn’t know)
1 Tablespoon oil (use the cheapest kind you’ve got—this ain’t gourmet cooking)
1cup water
food coloring of your choice

Mix all your ingredients together in a metal bowl (see directions below as to why it needs to be metal) and add the food coloring a little bit at a time to get the desired color, noting that when it cools, the color will be darker.
Now fashion yourself a double boiler with a saucepan filled about 3-4 inches with water, your metal mixing bowl tucked on top so it gets nice and warm, and a trusty spoon.
Heat on medium and stir the mixture frequently until the mixture really begins to stick to the bowl and balls up as you stir.  It’ll get a little bit tricky, but stir for another minute, and then scrape the play-dough out onto a piece of wax paper and let cool.
It’ll be a little sticky for the first round of creating, but when you’re done, wrap it tightly in plastic cling wrap and tuck it in the fridge.  Next time around, it’ll be cool and smooth and perfect for imaginative little minds… as well as your kids.
Hangin’ in there, over and out,
Ms. D

How the destitute go to school

Disclaimer: For those of you regular readers, please note that this post is part of a school assignment– yes, yours truly is going back to school to get her Masters of Library and Informational Science (MLIS) online.  That’s right, I can go to school, get a snazzy degree to be the next hot, local librarian and never have to leave the house.  Is that a good thing?  I’m not quite sure, but at least I don’t have to pay for the gas to get there.  So, read along as I discuss a couple groovy little lectures on TEAMWORK!!
There is no ‘i’ in team.  I remember reading a poster with this mantra some where in a work environment, and having a good giggle over its cheeziness, and then tossing the phrase about with my co-workers anytime we wanted to remind someone to hustle, buck up, shape up or generally laugh.  It may have been said mostly in jest, but there was a kernel of friendly nudging in there that, at the very least, boosted morale.
In Dr. Haycock’s lecture (I know, I giggled the first time I heard the name, too, but the guy is apparently a guru in the library world) he makes it very clear that doing team assignments is essential training for the workplace, and it’s more than just grinding through the assignment the professor gives you, trying to ignore the idiots who do nothing, grit your teeth and do all the work and hope for the best.  Unless you’re blogging in a vacuum (wait, is that me?) then you’re going to have to learn to work on a team.  Even parenting is learning how to work on a team.  And the way Dr. Haycock (in his charming Canuck accent) described the ground rules and consequences of setting up a team, it can be a lot like raising a child.
The other lecture by a Ms. Enid Irwin (and how can you not love a librarian named ‘Enid’?) said that many of her former students got internships and jobs because of their great teamwork skills learned through the program.  Here’s hoping I’m that gal.  Though I do wonder if maybe I’m the one she describes as having a bad attitude (as in how much I hated working in an all-female-gossipy-as-hell retail situation) or maybe I’m the clown Dr. Haycock describes– the one who’s always joking and trying to make people laugh because I feel it’s the only thing I have to contribute.  But what I really want to be– in school, in life– is the editor, the one with worthy skills to offer.  I also want to be that maternal encourager who checks in every now and then to see how the team is doing– are you hanging in there?  Have you got too much on your plate?  Is there something else you would like to offer?
And then Ms. Enid brings up the ‘p’ word– PLANNING.  Oh, boy.  I try, I plan, I control-freak, I meltdown.  But really, life takes planning, because it is like another famous workplace adage, ‘If you fail to plan, then you plan to fail.’  (Or my mother’s favorite response to passive-agressive meltdowns– ‘Poor planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine.’  So take that.)  I bought a notebook today in hopes that I might be better organized, as organization is the cuddly buddy of planning.
So now, I shall sally forth, read what seems like 500 hours of reading for my other class, turn in this bloggy assignment and go on with my chipper attitude, my Destitute and Obscure skills of planning and organization (cause isn’t that what good style and frugality are all about?) and my Darwinian will to survive this next adventure called ‘graduate level education.’
Wish me luck, an extra 8 hours in the day, a well-behaved child and a generous helping of sanity!
I’M OFF TO SCHOOL!!!  (well, at least I’m gonna sit down here on the couch and open my laptop)
Cheeri-o,
Ms. D

How the destitute start paying rent again and other moving news

Moving.
It’s hellish, but when it means having a place to call your own, it’s worth it.  We went from co-habitation with my parents and sharing a zip code with the likes of Motley Crue’s Vince Neil, rapper E-40, NFL general guru and hardware store spokesman John Madden, and author Terry McMillan, to our own teeny apartment within walking distance of a brand-new Nieman Marcus (or did I mean Needless Mark-up?) and Tiffany’s.  I can’t even afford to window shop in my new neighborhood, but the up side is the totally beautiful and completely free library and park nearby.  Even my pre-schooler can walk there, although not without Mama.
The first night, it was a bit like camping out in chaos—the dresser piled high with clothes, but empty, the kitchen outfitted with boxes, some dishes, a few borrowed pans, but no cutting board, and no silverware tray– it’s kind of amazing how necessary those suckers are.  My 8 spoons, 4 knives and 3 forks are nestled in a plastic bag.
We would be the well-furnished owners of a broad, Japanese-style coffee table, a vintage-looking turntable, most of my dance costumes and my seven-volume collection of signed Salman Rushdie’s, except they’re on a boat coming from New Zealand.  So when I talk about my ship coming in, I mean it literally.
Discoveries I made the first morning:
*we left the coffee at my parents’ house
*we have to heat water in a saucepan because we don’t own either a kettle or an electric jug, either here or on the boat
*there was not a rubber band or a pen in sight, both of which I suddenly discovered that I needed—desperately.
Example of good timing:
*while we have no internet, simultaneously, my phone had run out of minutes.  We’ll find out if pre-paid is a better way to go with no land-line.
Because of the status of the majority of our possessions, we have had to rely heavily on our friends for kitchen items.
On loan, currently:
*3 teflon frying pans from Natasha
*dishes and dish rack, bike and vacuum from Anne-Marie
*toaster from Kimberly  (which may be the exact model that we have floating across the Pacific at press time)
*casserole dish and saucepan from Grey
Most of these items are on loan, but some of them are gifts, things passed on to us in our time of need.  I never would have thought to long for a vacuum until I didn’t have one and the rice I spilled in the kitchen was sticking to my feet.  It’s a gift from heaven, really.  And a woman entrusting a Le Crueset  dish to another has an enormous amount of faith.  I believe I did her proud last night when used it to cook up and serve Tamale Pie (see recipe below) to my family.

Do I still feel destitute?  You betcha– our rent is astronomical for the country’s average.  But I have a place of my own and I am blessed.
And that, my friends, is richness.

Tamale Pie
This recipe is originally from the Joy of Cooking is a ground beef extravaganza but upon inspection, it appears to be nothing but chili with cornbread on top, in the true spirit of one-dish casserole meals.  Here’s my vegetarian version of it:
1 Tbsp. cooking oil (canola or olive, whatever you got that’s mild in flavor)
1/2 cup diced onion
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1 1/2 cup frozen corn
1 can kidney beans (drained and rinsed)
1 can black beans (drained and rinsed)
1 14oz. canned chopped tomatoes (not the kind with the basil and garlic)
1 tsp. cumin
1 tsp. chili powder
Sautee the onion until translucent on medium heat, then add the garlic, stir and cook for another minute.  Add the corn and stir around until its not quite so frozen, then add both cans of beans and the tomatoes with their juice.   Simmer for 5-10 minutes on low, until hot and a little bubbly.  Stir in the cumin and the chili powder.  Pour into a casserole dish and then mix up the following for the cornbread:
3/4 cup cornmeal
1 Tbsp. flour
1 Tbsp. sugar
pinch salt
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
Mix dry ingredients above and then mix and add, until just combined:
1 egg
1/3 cup milk
add 1 Tsp. oil and pour evenly over the top of the chili mixture.
Bake at 400 degrees (whatever that may actually be on my new oven, I do not know– it seems to run a bit hot) for 15 minutes or until the cornbread is lightly browned.  Savor and enjoy, especially when the weather cools down.
Ciao!
Ms. D

how the obscure keep on keepin’ on.

AAAACK!  It would appear that I have not written in almost a month.  Graduation, summer vacation or an attack of killer tomatoes?  No, just life.  I got a job, sort of, and then I got heavily into the land of imagination and disappeared.  But the reality is that life—destitution and obscurity ever-present as always—goes on.  And therefore, so must the blog.
In the past few weeks, we here at L of the D n’ O have been cultivating lettuce and preschoolers and trying to figure out the motivation for some people to sell their trash on their driveways and call it a ‘Garage Sale’.  (A friend mentioned the term ‘box of socks’, and if there had been hosiery available for purchase, I might have been interested.)
The ‘job’ of sorts is a stint being a paid (marginally) blogger (!) at BayAreaMama as their residence Health and Fitness writer.  I’ve blogged there on raw milk, running for sanity’s sake and the in’s and out’s of sunscreens.  Please do check it out, and understand that I am blogging for 2 now, and may not quite hit weekly on both.

In the coming weeks, as both patriotism and barbeques ignite, I’m sure that there will be able opportunities to share how the poor and creative get down and dirty.  So here are a few suggestions for Independence Day:
1.  Turn east and somewhat north, depending on where you are in the US (and only if you are a citizen of the United States of America) extend your middle finger and aim.  This might be the true spirit of the holiday, excepting the fact that it’s a bit childish, and that the Brits have a different hand gesture for the same expression in their country.  It just goes to prove how really independent we are—we made up our own obscene hand gestures.
2. Okay, really.  Check out where your nearest parade is and partake in the scenery waltzing by, or join right in for a few minutes.  Most local parades include the high school marching band, a few fancy cars and lots of fun for kids.  I used to attend the Fourth of July Parade in Danville, California back when local men pushed their John Deere’s around in a choreographed routine as part of the Lawnmower Brigade (no one in Danville mows their own lawns anymore, but a bunch of guys still get together with their old mowers anyway) and the parade finished off with a troop of Civil War buffs firing off their rifles (I hated that part—too loud and scary… oh, wait—that idea is still loud and scary, and apparently, they still do it) but now it’s a little tamer with lots of Mercedes and real estate agents—still a little scary, but always good, campy fun.  And the vintage tractors in the second video link are pretty cool.  I have to believe that somewhere in the good ol’ US of A there’s a small town parade or two that still believes in charm and creativity.  The Midwest has got to be a hotbed.  If you know of a good one, let me know.  I might even make travel plans for next year.
3.  Don’t drive all over creation (or drive much at all on this drunken holiday) to go to a fireworks show.  You’ll spend most of your evening in the car, trying to park, trying to get out of the parking lot and trying to find it in the first place.  And for heaven’s sake, don’t try them at home.  At D n’ O, we love DIY projects, but fireworks are not one of them.  Climb up the nearest hill or roof and see if you can spot one or more from afar.  Or at the very least, walk or carpool. One of the best fireworks show I’ve seen was from my friend’s roof.  It was made more spectacular by the fact that my boyfriend at the time dropped his pants in the middle of the show to reveal his Stars-n-Stripes boxers and bellowed at the top of his lungs—‘I’m a g- -d-mn patriot!’  Brilliant, though it had little to do with the fireworks in the distance.  Still, it was in the true spirit of the Destitute and Obscure.
And lastly, uh, don’t drink and drive… really.  Don’t drive at all, if you can.  There are too many drunk loonies out on the road and you don’t need to hang out with them, or be one of them.  If alcohol is a necessary part of your celebration of Independence from the mother country, then please do so in a manner that keeps you functional and in the confines of your own neighborhood.  Please note: the fact that the words ‘functional’ and ‘alcohol’ appearing in the same sentence in no way advocates the ideas of ‘functioning alcoholic’—malarkey, I’m convinced.  Public service announcement is now, ahem, completed.   Thanks for your time.
Stay tuned in the next few weeks for adventures in lettuce, moving, garage sale-ing, interior decorating and more book recommendations and recipes.  Shortly thereafter, it will be worth noting that most stores’ lines of swimsuits go on sale.  Conversely, the time to shop for jeans is in February.
And so, thus armed, I shall sally forth into the world, armed with ideas and an empty wallet.  Happy Independence weekend to all ya’ll Yanks and Howdy and thanks for your support to all ya’ll all over the world.
Cheery-o!!

(nifty flag photo credit)

How the obscure utilize and love their local library

I have a college education.  I am poor.  These two descriptions didn’t use to exist together very often, but thanks to the new economy and a healthy dose of artistic temperament they fit together in my life quite neatly.  During my college years, I used to take pride in putting together funk-ily furnished apartments, dressing in thrift store finds (it was the 90’s after all) and reading all the beatnik-era classics I could get my hands on.
One of my favorite forms of decorating has been to find an old book case, cover it in some ethnic, vintage fabric, plop a trailing plant on top and then fill it with ALL my books and a few nifty albums.  It looks great, and it’s functional—where else would I put my hordes of books?  In stacks on the floor?
Heavens, no!
But these days, I certainly can’t buy all the books I want to read, even when they’re used books (a kind with a history), so that’s why my home away from home is the Public Library.
My county library rocks, and I’m not just saying that because I work there, um, as a volunteer.  Nor am I saying it because come fall, I will be starting my educational career to become the new hot librarian in my town (Ahem, that is a worthy aspiration, no?)
No, I’m saying it because I love to read, I love the services the public library provides for free, and because the best way to be less obscure, or even less stupid when you’re poor, is to read.
Read and learn and get yourself educated.

I, personally, am a card-carrying member of the Contra Costa County Library system— found easily at ccc.lib.org, as well as the physical edifices in Walnut Creek, Danville, El Cerrito, Antioch, Pittsburg, and all over Contra Costa County.  In the Bay Area, Alameda County has its own library system and Berkeley is an entity all unto itself—no surprise there.  I hear that the Rancho Cucamonga Library in So. Cal “rocks” as well.  That is, by the way, a direct quote—thanks, Aletha.
My favorite part about the library being online is that it can be a lot like shopping, only it won’t cost you a thing.  Unless of course you are naughty and don’t turn your books in on time.  The good news is that you can also renew online, which is super handy.  You can also pay your fines online and thus avoid that stern look from the librarian—you know the one, where she stares over the top of the glasses perched on her nose and hanging from a chain around her neck.  (I can’t wait to get me a pair of cat-eye glasses, complete with ornate chain—a graduation present when I finish school.)
Here’s how you to make it really work for you: if you know of a title or author, or movie title, (yes, they’ve got movies, too, and I only had to wait about two weeks for a copy of Eclipse to come in… but don’t tell anyone that I wasted two hours of my precious time watching it.  My time, but not my money.) just enter it into the search field, let the system work its magic and then, voila, you just enter in your library card number and your last name and tell them when and where you want to pick it up.  It couldn’t be easier, and it enables bibliophiles with kleptomaniacal tendencies to collect books, magazines, movies and cds (formerly know as books on tape) on all manner of subjects.
Currently checked out on my account:

• Real Food for Mother and Baby by Nina Planck
• the documentary, Grey Gardens
• Mercy Watson to the Rescue by Kate DiCamillo (an illustrated children’s chapter book with a darling little pig on the cover—advanced research)
• The Pebble First Guides to Songbirds and Horses
• Dance Anatomy
• The Female Brain by Louann Brizendine, M.D.
• The New Frugality by Chris Farrell
• The Disciple Miracle by Dr. Linda Pearson
• James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl
• Rechenka’s Eggs by Patricia Palacco.
• Curious George by Margaret and H.A. Rey
• Food, Inc.

All of which broaden my knowledge of various aspects of my life, Grey Gardens not withstanding, unless I plan to become a reclusive and eccentric old woman who feeds feral cats and raccoons.  At this rate, it could happen.
The other nifty thing about libraries is the free stuff and cool, free events.  I’ve picked up a few old tour books for free, a nifty decorating book for a mere dollar, and taken my child to the weekly kid’s story time (with the ever-so-patient and animated Mrs. B), and to see a Chinese New Year celebration.

Contra Costa also has free coupons available with a library card.
Your public library—you can’t beat the price or selection, for you or your child, and you can’t beat the cool people that work there.  Let me know how much you love your public library and your librarian.

Ciao and happy reading!

ps. I always love a good reading recommendation…