• the quotidian (3.30.20)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace
    Perks: when your child takes a job at a CSA

    Not our normal fare.

    With the leftover potato and onion slices, a fritatta.

    Rediscovered: the magic of the seven-minute egg.

    She dislikes the texture of nuts in granola so she spent half an hour mincing them into oblivion.

    For the love of color.

    I must’ve fussed long enough or yelled loud enough because I finally got my door latches.

    Weed therapy.
    When the neighbors’ wolf pups come to play.

    Resident squatter.

    He’s actually more of a glamper.

    Question: What do you do when you total your car?
    Answer: Take the salvaged parts and make….

    … a five thousand-dollar GTI stereo system. 

    This same time, years previous: Asian slaw, for-real serious, the day we did everything, teff pancakes with blueberries, the quotidian (3.28.16), absorbing the words, the quotidian 3.30.15), our oaf, on being together: it’s different here somehow, Good Friday fun, the boy and the dishes.

  • milk bread

    Last week when I got the hankering for hamburgers and didn’t have any buns — and I knew the stores probably didn’t either because, when we’d stopped by a couple nights prior to pick up a pack of hotdog buns, there were none — I decided to make my own.

    I’d recently discovered milk bread, a bread that relies on a paste of cooked flour and milk for its signature light-and-fluffy texture. After I made the bread the first time, I was hooked. The process was fun — the cooked flour-and-milk gave it a thrill factor — and the billowy bread with its glossy egg wash varnish was delicious.

    Now, with no hamburger buns to be had, it occured to me that this bread, with its light, yet firm texture, would make perfect buns.

    You know how some burgers buns are so hard and dry that it’s like there’s a war going on between the burger and bun? They are too separate, too different. They don’t even try to get along. And then some buns are so inconsequential that they melt right into the burger, completely disintegrating to the point that it feels like you’re eating meat wrapped in a soggy tissue.

    These buns, though, were the best of both worlds. They managed to both conform to the burger and hold up against the onslaught of toppings.

    Perfection.

    Milk Bread 
    Adapted from my friend’s recipe and she, in turn, got her inspiration from the blog Curious Nut

    Tangzhong is simply the Japanese term for a cooked flour and water (or milk) slurry. (I’d actually first read about the method from a Cook’s Illustrated magazine — I’d even photocopied the recipe because it included step-by-step illustrations for making a challah loaf with four strips of dough — but then I never did anything with it.)

    The recipe I’ve been using makes double the amount that I have here — I halved it so it could be made using a stand mixer. Feel free to double it, if you like. (For photos of the rising bread dough and a finished loaf, go here.)

    tangzhong:
    6.5 ounces milk
    1.3 ounces bread flour

    Measure the milk and flour into a small saucepan. Cook over medium-high heat, whisking steadily, until thick. Remove from heat and let cool.

    dough:
    10.5 ounces warm milk
    28 grams sugar
    16 grams yeast
    1½ pounds bread flour
    tangzhong mixture
    2½ teaspoons salt
    2 eggs
    2 tablespoons butter, room temperature 

    egg wash: one egg yolk beaten with 1 tablespoon cold water

    Measure the warm milk, sugar, and yeast into a large mixing bowl, or in the bowl of your stand mixer. Stir briefly and let rest for ten minutes, or until puffy. Add a pound of the flour and salt and mix to combine. Add the cooled tangzhong. Add the two eggs and the rest of the flour. Add the butter and mix for several minutes.

    Cover the dough with plastic or a towel (no need to remove it from the mixing bowl) and let rest until doubled.

    For loaves: Divide the dough into two parts. Shape into loaves and place in greased pans. Let rest until doubled. Brush the tops with the egg wash. Bake at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes, or until golden brown. Turn out of pans onto a baking rack to cool.

    For hamburger buns: Divide the dough into two parts. Divide each part into twelve equal sections, making 24 sections. Shape into balls of dough and then press flat into the desired size for your hamburger bun. Place buns on greased, half-baking sheets — 12 per pan. Cover and let rest until doubled. Brush with egg wash and sprinkle with sesame seeds, if desired. Bake at 350 degrees for about 15-20 minutes.

    This same time, years previously: now that she’s back, the quotidian (3.26.18), the quotidian (3.27.17), the Tuesday boost, maple pecan scones, the visit, a spat, fabulous fatira, whoopie pies.

  • the coronavirus diaries: week three

    on a walk with my mom
    photo credit: my older daughter

    These days, I feel twitchy. On edge.

    Our normal homeschool studies, already at a bare minimum, have all but screeched to a halt. Not because we don’t have time — we have all the time in the world — but because I’m too distracted. 

    Writing, normally a difficult task, is even harder because I can’t still my racing mind long enough to focus. Which is exactly what I need to do, of course — my brain craves a break.

    And so I try to write something, anything…

    ***

    In the middle of the night when I wake to go to the bathroom, in the fuzzy space between dreamland and wakefulness, consciousness comes in fragments — … falling apart … quarantine the entire world … virus … taking over trapped — and I think, Wow, what a horrible nightmare, and then, a second later, Oh wait. That’s reality.

    ***

    Nothing is easy. Even the ordinary things, like reading a book, feel complicated. Because once that book is done, then what? Can I swap books with my mom? With my friends? Do I order from Amazon?

    ***

    And the absence of routine — church, babysitting, coffee shops, pop-in visits — is more draining than it is freeing. Figuring out what to do instead, or how to live without, sucks energy and takes concentration.

    delivery girl: from one quarantined household to another
    ***

    The deluge of information is overwhelming. At first glance, each new announcement — a hundred more positive cases! such-and-such a famous person sick! yet another preposterous statement! chilling revelation! heartwarming video! — is exciting.

    But then the kick of adrenaline fades, leaving behind fear and anxiety, rage, and something akin to grief.

    It’s a lot to process.

    ***

    Everything’s happening so fast. Two days from now — two weeks, two months — what will I be wishing I’d thought of now?

    So, at my urging, my husband and I sat down to come up with a plan.

    We asked ourselves, what do we normally need/do in April, May, and June? If we’re stuck at home, what projects might we tackle? What materials might we need? What should we buy now to keep the house running smoothly?

    Our list wasn’t that long — the headlight on the car is out; the riding mower needs some repairs; we’re almost out of lightbulbs; the propane tanks should be refilled; we ought to refill our gas cans and maybe get a couple more; it wouldn’t hurt to buy a little extra flour — but it felt good to think things through.

    What am I forgetting?

    ***

    Yesterday I went to Costco. I was a little nervous about what I’d find, but the store was wonderfully calm.

    Precautionary measures were everywhere: An employee was wiping down carts. Posted signs reminded customers to stay six feet apart. Stands of antibacterial wipes were at the entrance and exit. Open registers were staggered, and the checkout was a single line at the head of which was an employee allowing customers to pass when a register became available.

    Some items were missing — no chicken, no frozen beef, no frozen peas and broccoli, no toilet paper (of course) — and certain things, like butter and oil and sugar, were restricted to just one per customer, but most of the shelves were full.

    Since I was also shopping for my brother’s family, who is quarantined right now, and, even though we had lots of duplicates between our two carts, they let us pay for everything with my membership card, no problem.

    photo credit: my older daughter

    I followed up at Food Lion to fill in the gaps, but there were still a number of things (frozen orange juice, rubbing alcohol, frozen peas, toilet paper) that we couldn’t find. The whole hit-or-miss nature of shopping is so similar to what it’s like in other countries I’ve lived in — everything simply isn’t always available.

    Which is a new concept for us, here.

    And a bit of a rude awakening. We aren’t invincible after all.

    *** 

    One of my friends was recently very sick. We (I, she, her doctor, etc) were sure it was Covid-19, but her test came back negative. Which made me wonder: is there such a thing as a false negative?

    When I mentioned this to my brother, he sent me this article. So I’m not the only one asking this question!

    And when I mentioned this to Kim, she said that her friend in the UK never had the test but, after a week, they considered her a confirmed case, based on her symptoms only. Will the U.S. start doing this soon, too?

    Then just today my brother sent me a new link: false positives are unlikely; false negatives are more likely.

    *** 

    If you have time to listen to just one thing today, let it be this: Monday’s Fresh Air interview with Max Brooks, an apocalyptic novelist who is somewhat of an expert on pandemics. At Mom’s urging, I’d started listening to it yesterday afternoon but then stopped — I wanted the whole family to hear it.

    So last night, after our supper of Thai chicken curry and rice (I found chicken at Food Lion), we lingered at the table, listening. Even though there was nothing pleasant about the truth of our situation, just hearing someone speak about the issues plainly, with intelligence and thoughtfulness, gave me hope.

    *** 

    And, for a little humor, this lovely, spot-on essay written by one of my friends: Mom, You’re Grounded.

    xoxo!

    Jesus Loves Me is longer than 20 seconds.



    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (3.25.19), the solo, apricot couronne, more springtime babies, the pigpen, the quotidian (3.24.14), the walk home, of a moody Sunday, sour cherry crumb pie.