Tasty treat for a stormy morning

There's a powerful storm raging outside this morning, in from the Arctic, with cold temperatures, high gusty winds and rain. We're warm and cozy inside, but every time the wind gusts, we look up and wonder if the lights will go out.

This is weather for a nice warm breakfast.

Sognsvann, Kringsja, Oslo, 1991

 In 1991 our family lived in Oslo, Norway for a winter. [The Man I Love] had accepted a visiting professor appointment at the University of Oslo, and Our Son and I joined him. One of the things I remember is a weekend after a long blizzard when the parks and woods around us were covered in a thick blanket of snow that attracted scores of skiers. And near the trails, there was a little wood shed, shuttered until this particular day, now open and selling freshly made waffles, to slake their post-ski hunger. The waffles were cooked in a heart-shaped iron, and served with lingonberry jam and sour cream, and they were delicious.

No Eggos they, those waffles seemed unattainable when we returned to the states. It wasn't until several years later than Our Son, coming home from a sleepover with a friend, requested home-made waffles. His friend's dad had made them for breakfast, he said, and he wanted us to try them.

I bought a cheap American-style waffle-maker, and for the next several weeks, I made fresh waffles for Sunday breakfast. Then, as kids do, Our Son's interest moved to something else, and the waffle iron ended up buried deep in a kitchen cabinet.

This morning, maybe it was the cold wind and the sense of warmth in the house that made me take it out again.

The waffles I made this morning were made with leftover cooked rice from some Thai take-out.

Rice Waffles

1 cup cooked rice
1 1/2 cup flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons melted butter
1 1/2 cup milk
1 egg, divided

Mix together the rice, flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Mix together the milk, melted butter and egg yolk, and combine them with the dry ingredients.

Whip the egg white until it forms soft peaks. Fold the whipped egg white into the batter, and cook in a waffle iron according to the manufacturer directions.

My waffle iron works simply. With non-stick grids, you simply wipe it with a little oil (I sprayed Pam on a paper towel, and wiped the iron with it). Plug in the iron. The indicator light will go on. When it goes off, the iron is hot enough to spoon the batter in.

Steam comes out as the waffle cooks.

 Close the iron - the light will go on again. Wait for it go off again, and gently try to open it. If it sticks, wait a bit, and try again. The waffle should be browned and done.

If I hadn't known they were made with leftover rice, I couldn't have noticed anything different about these waffles, so I'll say it doesn't matter. They were light, and momentarily crispy - you had to eat them fresh before the steam made them soften. I think they could have used a touch of vanilla, sugar, or nutmeg for taste - or a pinch of ground cardamom, as Norwegians like them.

Skiing makes you hungry  -  Our Son and me, 1991

 In Norway they eat them with jam or berries and whipped cream. Here in the US we sweeten them with maple syrup. LA is famous for pairing waffles with fried chicken, at the famous chain of soul food restaurants, Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles.

I was pleased to see how easy it was to set up the waffle iron, make the batter, cook the waffles and clean up and put it all away again. They were even easier to make than pancakes! Why don't I make these more often?

What are your weekend breakfast specialties?

Gloomy day

It's a gloomy day here in Southern California. We're awaiting a storm blowing in from the north. The fog has been thick this morning - here's what it looks like right now outside my kitchen window - the fog has completely obscured the other side of the canyon.

I'm home with my cold. I'm trying to monitor by email various workplace crises that come up - a German reality show location filming and a visit by the French consul. (am I making these details up or are they real? Take a guess.)

The leaves of the jacaranda tree off the kitchen deck always turn yellow in spring, and they fall off before the new growth begins. The wisteria, now in full bloom, twines through the jacaranda, the purple blossoms a portend of blossoms to come, as the jacaranda bursts into its own purple blooms in June.

Oh - I think I did OK on the French test.

Escape

Click to "embiggen"

Someone I know played hooky from work on Monday and sent me this photo from high atop Point Dume. It was awfully nice to sit in my cubicle and open this up from my email, imagining myself up there looking out over the Pacific.

I'm not playing hooky at all, I'm at work with a lousy cold, weird goggle-eyed glasses, and (now, I think) an ear infection. I just attended a meeting where we pored over lots of detailed figures on spreadsheets, I smell strongly of Ricola, and I'm barely hanging on, here. In two hours I have my French mid-term exam.

I may need to stay home tomorrow, but what a waste. It's so much more fun to play hooky when you're not sick, isn't it?

Computer junkie

 Yesterday something - a bit of grit, maybe - got in my eye and all day long my eye was irritated. I wear contact lenses and I am near blind without correction, so I endured the pain throughout the day, then took out my contacts at home.

I do have eyeglasses, The only problem is that my eyeglass prescription is old - it dates from a couple years ago. With them, I can see perfectly well to walk around the house and do errands, but I cannot see the computer screen while wearing eyeglasses.

If I take my eyeglasses off and bring my nose within six inches of the screen, I can make out the text.

Even easier, I can read email on my I-phone if I take off my glasses and bring the screen up to my face - the enlarged text makes it easy.

Third, I can see the letters on the screen if I keep my eyeglasses on and put a pair of reading glasses ("cheaters") on top of them. You can imagine how stylish this looks.

I have always worn glasses.

Ridiculous, isn't it? I must be totally addicted.

Mes Devoirs

More French homework! I got an "A" on my second pop quiz, but this Wednesday is our first real exam!

Reading chair at Shakespeare et Companie, in Paris

Yikes!

The reason I'm not blogging is that I'm hitting the books!

Morning coffee

Today is beautiful, sunny, and clear. I'm having a cup of coffee on the deck, reading a book. The air is sweet with the scent of wisteria and lemon blossoms.

Click to "embiggen"

And this is the view from my chair. I never get tired of it. The amazing geologic folds of the earth, the heaved and angled layers of rock, the huge flat slabs upthrust like teeth from the hills. The soft gray-green chaparral and oaken forest. The vertical rills marking landslides, gullies where rainfall and storm waters drain off the mountain. That white house I've never visited in person, with its meadow and tree-lined avenue. The tile roofs of other houses hidden among the trees.

It's a beautiful Saturday morning in Topanga. How's it where you are?

Worth it? Or not?

These days I'm not much of an antique-shopper or yard-sale devotee, although twenty years ago I was so committed to thrifting that most of our household furniture was purchased used and refurbished by me.

Now, at my age, the idea of kneeling on newspapers in the driveway, stripping old varnish with steel wool and gooey, corrosive paint stripper just doesn't say "fun" to me anymore.

Even so, sometimes I get a fresh reminder of the thrill of the hunt.

Heywood Wakefield M154A side chair

Yesterday, while driving through the San Fernando Valley, I spotted something on the side of the road, made a quick round-the-block detour and went to investigate.

There, in the grass of the parking strip, with a neon-orange "YARD SALE" sign, was a Heywood Wakefield "Dog Biscuit" dining set - a drop-leaf table, two side chairs and two arm chairs. In the yard behind an entire home's worth of furnishings were displayed, but all I cared about was the dining room set.

The chairs were in pretty good shape - a little dirty, in need of a good cleaning. The upholstery was a kind of yellow chenille with metallic flecks.

Price? I asked the guy presiding over the sale.

$2000 for four chairs and a table.  "A guy offered me $1500 earlier and said he'd be back later if I didn't get $2000 for 'em," he said, in an attempt - I assume - to get me to offer $1600.

Ah. Although our dining room chair situation is not ideal, and I'd love to have a set of four Heywood Wakefield "Dog Biscuit" chairs, $1600 isn't in my budget.

Mid-century modern vintage furniture is quite hot these days, especially in L.A. So it's probably a pretty good price for the value. But no. I had to walk away, though with a touch of regret.

Heywood Wakefield M154C arm chair

I grew up with those chairs - my parents' first dining room set was exactly that table and six, not four, chairs. I think the upholstery was a kind of soft dull green chenille. Later, in the 60's, we bought what my childhood self thought was a nicer dining room set, in a kind of "Mediterranean" style with a large buffet.

But, oh, my adult self appreciates the sleek stylishness of those "Dog Biscuit" chairs. What happened to them?

After the Mediterranean dining room, the Heywood Wakefields ended up consigned to the basement, to the hobby table, or as desk chairs in childrens' rooms. When Brother 3 married and started a family, Mom and Dad donated the set to him, where they were treated just as most people treat hand-me-downs, and they are no more.

A lost chance to relive my childhood, right?

Actually, if I really really want Heywood Wakefield "Dog Biscuit" chairs, I'm in luck. The Heywood Wakefield Company still makes them. The company was bought out by another firm, and the new owner recognized the potential of these iconic Mid-Century styles. Today, you can buy new "Dog Biscuit" chairs, for around $400 - just a little more than asking price for the yard sale set I walked away from. They're still made of solid Northern Yellow Birch, with a hand-rubbed finish. There's an assortment of fabrics for upholstery.

So if I'd had $1600 burning a hole in my pocket, I could have walked away with a vintage set of chairs I'd have to clean, refinish and re-upholster - or I could order new ones with fabric of my choice.

What do you think? Is there a value in the vintage pieces that outweighs the new? Or would you go for the new pieces?

What's your talent for thrifting?

Did you know?

It's International Women's Day today.

Women's organizations and governments around the world have observed International Women's Day annually on 8 March, to honor women's contributions and remind us of the need to keep working to ensure that women's equality is maintained in all aspects of life.

With the current assault on women's reproductive rights coming from U.S. politicians, we are reminded to stop being complacent and assume the fight has already been won. It continues.

And yes, the day is associated with the labor movement, feminism, and socialism. So what?

What season is it?

Sunday morning I woke up to the scent of flowers in the air. It was sunny, warm, beautiful. The entire world seemed perfumed.

It was probably because our wisteria vine has begun to bloom. It sprawls over the top of our shade structure, and you can see it from the second floor windows. Fat lavender blooms are burgeoning all over it. Wisteria is not a plant for the timid. Ours is perhaps 8 years old now, and it wraps a stranglehold around the shade structure's pillars, waving tendrils reach out and entwine porch railings and chair backs, and the fat, dark oval seeds burst from its green pods and then emerge as seedlings in the lawn.

Still - the scent of spring-blooming wisteria is heady.

That was Sunday. Today is Tuesday - last night the fog on Pacific Coast Highway was so thick as I drove home from my night class that it was hard to see more than a few car lengths ahead. This morning the world is shrouded in mist, and I hear on the radio that an Arctic storm may bring snow to the Grapevine - a highway north of Los Angeles.

Plus ca change, as they say in France.

Still, the wisteria blooms. You can't stop it. Nothing stops wisteria, as gardeners well know.