February 2016 – pruneandpear

Tremble and crow

Lucy turned eight months old yesterday! We celebrated with sunshine, yogurt, and a game of chase.

I have been looking forward to the eight-month mark because it means she can have more finger foods and variety in her diet. She’s already kind of over being spoon fed, so we are all glad for this new, messy phase. Her current favorite thing to eat is mashed avocado. She grabs fistfuls of it and gets most of it in her mouth, only occasionally stashing chunks under the tray of her high chair or behind her ears.

It’s time to expand her palate. So yesterday we made a special trip to the grocery store to stock up: tofu, chickpeas, ground pork, salmon, cottage cheese, broccoli–all kinds of tasty treats to try over the coming weeks. Lucy rode around in the shopping cart, clutching her polka-dotted giraffe/reindeer/llama friend (we’re not sure what he is, but she loves him), grinning at the lady at the fish counter, and singing in piercing tones at the checkout. I think she sensed the festivity.

For dinner, she tried yogurt for the first time. She puckered at the sourness and then bounced and clapped for more. This morning we both had some, watching each other to see the reaction and enjoying eating breakfast together. These shared experiences, no matter how small, fill me up.

She is becoming more aware of how we interact. Last night, as we played on the floor before bed, I made a game of crawling away from her. She doesn’t crawl yet, and I was really just trying to encourage her. I didn’t expect the joy that emanated from her, the excitement that made her tremble and crow. She came after me, rolling and scooting and stretching out her hands, laughing wildly as I peeked around the corner of the couch. All of a sudden we were actually playing together, a real game that we both understood. It was magic.

Adapt and be agile

Sometime in the last few weeks, my baby turned into a kid. She’s a week shy of eight months old and is looking forward to getting her driver’s license, voting, and enjoying a cold beer. Last night I wrestled her into her jammies as she thrashed like a hooked salmon, and I was amazed at the change in her. Gone, it seems, is the serene little dove who laid about patiently, content to gaze at faces and light and shadows. She is ready to move, to go, to explore, to run and jump and dance and fly. Lucy is a raptor now, screeching and flapping and clawing. My god, the clawing! My poor chest is a connect-the-dots puzzle of red welts and scratches left where she has dug in her talons while she nurses. I think she’s trying to make the milk come faster so she can get on with more important things.

My sweet baby has changed, but I am not sad. This girl who’s here with us now is fabulously strong. She is curious and confident and cool. She likes to make us laugh. She gives fierce hugs and open-mouthed kisses. I loved who she was the day she was born, and I love who she is now. I will love who she is tomorrow and next year and in 20 years. I love that I must adapt and be agile to keep up with her. She makes me want to go, to explore, to run and jump and dance and fly.

She doesn’t want to miss a thing.

Along with her blossoming verve, she has developed a keen awareness of and interest in whatever Mike and I (and anyone else around) are up to. She sometimes cries when we leave, knowing now that we exist beyond her sight. She is probably irate at the thought that we are doing something fun without her. For the last several nights she has woken up just as dinner is ready and we are settling down to eat, no matter if she had been asleep for an hour or three. So I leave my plate on the table and go to her, receive those miracles of hugs and kisses, rock her and rub her back. I weather the weakening salmon flails and the rakish clawing that becomes soft pat-pats as she drifts back to sleep. Then I go eat my dinner with dear Mike, who has been waiting for me.

Last night I cooked risotto with mushrooms, to go with pork chops and salad. I was a symphony in the kitchen. I managed multiple meal components and timed everything just right so that it all finished at the same time. I am becoming a more efficient cook. I anticipated Lucy’s awakening as I took the pork chops out of the oven, wincing as I clanked the pan on the countertop. I mentally prepared for cold, gluey risotto. And you know what? She slept through dinner.

She keeps me on my toes, that one.

Risotto with mushrooms, thyme, and garlic

I have made this risotto with different types of mushrooms, depending on what’s in season. It’s a treat with chanterelles but also very good with sliced crimini or button mushrooms. This time I used some baby shiitakes that came in my produce box. They were small enough that I could sauté them whole and toss them into the risotto when it finished cooking.

For the basic risotto:

1 tbsp olive oil
1/2 of a large onion, diced
1 cup arborio rice
1/2 cup white wine
4-5 cups chicken stock, simmering in a pot on the stove
1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese
Salt to taste

For the mushrooms:

2 tbsp butter
1 lb mushrooms
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 sprigs fresh thyme
Salt to taste

Heat the oil in a large, heavy-bottomed skillet over medium heat. Sauté the onions until they are soft. Add the arborio rice and cook for a couple of minutes, until the rice is coated with oil and the individual grains are translucent at the ends. Add in the wine and cook, stirring, until all the liquid has been absorbed. Add 1 cup of stock and stir. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the liquid has been almost completely absorbed. Continue to add stock one cup at a time, stirring and cooking after each addition. This process of adding stock and cooking the rice takes about 30 minutes.

While you are working on the rice, start the mushrooms. Heat butter in a pan over medium heat. Add the mushrooms and sauté them until they are brown and soft. Add the garlic and thyme and cook about 30 seconds more. Taste and season with salt if need be. Set aside.

Taste the rice and see if the texture is to your liking. If it has too much bite, add a little more stock and continue to cook it. The risotto should be very loose and relaxed when it is done; it should sort of spread out languidly when you drag a spoon through the pan.

Take the risotto off the heat and stir in the parmesan cheese. Fold in the mushrooms, taste, season, and serve immediately.

Magic of the mundane

Having a baby around lets you see the world as a brand-new place. It is the coolest. Ordinary objects and events become utterly fascinating because I get to watch Lucy notice them for the first time. A candle’s flame shape-shifting in the quiet house, leaves fluttering in the breeze, hail tap-dancing against the car window, sunlight patterns glowing through the shutters, the snap-pop of a flag in a windstorm; these phenomena elicit the most wonderful reactions. Sometimes she gets very quiet and stares. Sometimes she laughs—a chuckle, a giggle, a chortle. Sometimes she turns her head back and looks at me with her bright eyes and delighted smile: “Do you see that? Please tell me you see that.” She makes magic of the mundane.

FullSizeRender

Thanks to Lucy, I have found myself experiencing a joy that I had almost forgotten. I have been uncovering memories bit-by-bit, like peeling wallpaper. Suddenly, I feel more alive, more hopeful, and my heart beats in anticipation like it used to when I would turn over beach rocks at low tide to discover tiny tidal worlds of sand crabs and snails. I realize that I pushed away the child I was, reinventing myself, as we do, trying to be Somebody but not finding the satisfaction that I so desperately sought. It is refreshing, cleansing, and freeing to remember the things I used to love so much and to feel so completely unashamed in reclaiming them as mine. Books and stories, songs, hobbies (I used to sew! I used to paint! I used to make collages and paper flowers!). I feel as if I have been born anew alongside Lucy, given new innocence, or at least a reprieve from concern over the judgments of others—and this feeling is an unexpected and welcome gift. I feel light. I feel happy.

My 36th birthday was a couple of weeks ago. It was a Tuesday, and I had to work. Mike had a late-night poetry class and a lot on his mind. He forgot to tell me happy birthday. I got a text from my mom that made me cry. I got a headache from my students. It was kind of a shitty day. I felt sorry for myself for a while, and then I got home, and Lucy laughed and pretty soon Mike came home and gave me a hug and everything was mostly okay again. Except that no one made me a cake. I was about to forgo the festivity, to wallow in just a little more self-pity, but then I decided: no. I wanted a birthday cake. I wanted carrot cake. So I made it myself! What a delicious relief to do as I pleased.

Darling Carrot Cake
adapted from The Joy of Eating, by Renny Darling

This cake is one of those sense-memories. I forgot about it, until I remembered it. And then no other recipe would do. Its secret weapon is cream cheese not only in the frosting, but in the cake itself. This touch makes the cake dense and moist in the best way possible.

For the cake:
2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg (freshly grated is best)
4 eggs
1 1/2 cups canola oil
1/2 lb cream cheese, softened
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 cup chopped walnuts
3 cups shredded carrots

Preheat oven to 350º. Butter and flour two 9-inch round cake pans. Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg in a bowl and set aside. Beat together eggs, oil, cream cheese, and vanilla in a large mixing bowl. Gradually add the dry mixture, beating after each addition, until batter is smooth. Stir in walnuts and carrots. Pour into cake pans. Bake for 40-45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool the cakes in the pan for 10 minutes, and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely. Frost with cream cheese frosting.

For the frosting:
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, softened
1/2 lb cream cheese, softened
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 lb sifted powdered sugar

Beat together butter, cream cheese, and vanilla. Add the sugar gradually (so that it doesn’t puff up in a huge sugar cloud all over your kitchen), and beat frosting until smooth and creamy.