A Finger in Every Pie

Fingers in Other Pies: Testing Mania

I've been toying with the idea of using this blog to write about subjects other than food for a while now.  I thought about starting another blog, and realized that that probably wouldn't work, since I have quite enough trouble updating one blog on any sort of regular basis. 

Some time ago, I had the good fortune to meet Meg Hourihan of Megnut, who in the short but compelling history of blogging is considered one of the "early" bloggers -- and in fact, is one of the folks who started Blogger (now owned by Google, of course).  At the time I met her, she had just changed her blog and her blogging life in a way that intrigued me.  She had been writing a sort of "everything" blog, and she made a decision to change it to a food blog.  "That's funny," I thought.  "Here I am, writing a food blog, and I kind of wish I had a little more room to write about other things and not feel obligated to tie them back in to food all the time.  I'd like to do the opposite of what Meg's just done." 

It wasn't only Meg.  You all know what great admiration I have for my blogging chums Bakerina and Bunni.  Bakerina writes a blog that has to do with food a fair amount of the time, but also devotes a good bit of space to world issues, knitting and existential angst.  And Bunni writes a kind of "stranger than fiction" blog of the tales of her life and her general take on the human condition (the prognosis is not good, folks) -- but every so often she posts something about food, including her recipe for a minestrone that could break hearts and win awards. 

And then there's my latest favorite read:  If I Ran The Zoo.  Another mixed-bag blog; no recipes here that I've seen, although I do claim personal acquaintance with one of the multiple posters (whom I happen to know has been an extremely accomplished cook since childhood, or maybe before).  She prefers, however, to share her acerbic take on politics and the politicos who make them, as well as an occasional and necessary quotidian skewering of her close encounters with local nimrods.  Another of her colleagues often posts his rather glorious photos of places I'd like to be right about now, so there's generally a fair amount of eye-candy as well as mind-protein there.  Group blogs (even those organized around a controlling idea) have, by their nature of course, multiple personalities -- but in a good way.

I know it's not unusual to have a polymorphous sort of blog. Lots of people do.  The trick is in having one that people actually want to read -- something where you might on occasion tell about your kid's antics or your lunch date or your latest, greatest recipe, and which also manages to tie those things back into some kind of unsolved mystery or universal truth or quest for fire.  So here lies a declaration of intent. I'm not going to stop writing about food, but I'm not always going to write about food.  I'm going to take the liberty of sometimes  writing about other things, and we'll see how that goes.  I know I've done that before on a few occasions, but now I'm making it formal.

At the moment I don't have much time for a comprehensive post, due to midterms.  One of the requirements of sabbatical year is that I'm obliged to spend some time sitting "on the other side of the desk."  Being a student for a change can actually be quite relaxing compared to teaching -- except during exam time. However, it helps me remember why I'm such an advocate for the abolition of standardized testing (and tests in general as a measure of what has been "learned.")  Even though the tests I take in graduate courses are not "standardized", they follow enough of a rote format to make me question their value. 

It's not that I'm a "bad test taker" -- just the opposite, actually.  Unlike many of my own students, I'm good enough at memorizing information for a test that I can immediately forget once the test is over.  But I see it for what it is -- a thoroughly ridiculous exercise.  And don't tell me that that's the way the world works, everyone has to take tests, and so that's the way it's got to be, world without end, amen. 

The pressure and urgency felt by the education community from the massive onslaught of standardized tests produced by the Bush administration's No Child Left Behind policy has been touted as responsible for "making gains" in education -- which gains are, of course, measured by standardized test scores.  Does no-one hear this as a tautology?  NCLB has, at best, caused certain communities to score better on standardized tests -- since that's all their schools teach anymore:  test sophistication skills, test-taking, test prep, material that will be on the test.  Those who actually stand to benefit from this policy?  The companies that manufacture standardized tests and test-preparation curricula.

Is there a contradiction in the words "test preparation curricula," or is it just me?   Schools are now in the business of implementing curricula that are centered around passing tests.  The test is no longer an instrument to gauge whether or not the student has learned the curriculum.  The curriculum is an instrument geared to help the student pass the test.  What is important is the test itself -- not the learning.  Indeed, no-one seems to even bother to ask why we're teaching what we're teaching, and if anyone actually wants or needs to learn it.

And if for some strange reason anyone were to decide that they actually want to measure learning, well, surprise, there are other ways besides tests to do it.  I'm not going to give a tutorial here (and no, there won't be a test on this), but just google "performance-based assessment" or "alternative assessment" or something along those lines.

I know this is not what you come here for.  Just indulge me for a while.  Maybe if I write about this in a place where people are used to reading about food, I'll reach a different audience.  Then again, if you came here for a recipe, this is probably just going to piss you off.  And you can feel free to tell me that.  Comments are open.

But for the moment, I won't try to tie this in to some favorite recipe for cookies to help students feel less anxiety on testing day.  I'll soon get back to some regularly-scheduled food-related programming as well, but an occasional meandering into other subject areas is also on the AFIEP agenda. 

Farewell to the Cooking Elective

The semester draws to a close, and alas, so does our cooking elective.  It's been a real joy to work with this group of 9th and 10th graders -- and also a serious challenge.  There was so much that we couldn't do within the constraints of a half-hour class and no real kitchen.  People would ask what I did with them, and I would wryly reply that we "made a lot of salads", among other things.  Which is true.  But they've developed a taste for homemade salad dressing, at least -- as well as broadening a few horizons.   

Too often, our classes were based on my bringing them fruits and vegetables to taste and discuss, rather than doing any real cooking.   Or I'd bring in baked goods I'd made at home, and in lieu of actually cooking the treats with them, I'd simply give them samples, share the recipe, and we'd talk about food and nutrition.  They loved this, but I felt unsure as to how much they'd really learned over the course of the semester.  So I asked them.

"What did you learn in cooking this semester?" I said.  "We learned that organic food is much better for you than non-organic," said Amber.  "Why?"  I asked.  "Because it doesn't have pesticides and chemicals that go into your body and cause you diseases and problems later down the road in your life," Alyssa said. 

"Don't make things from boxes and mixes and frozen food and cans," Deisy said.  "Homemade food is much better for you, cheaper, and tastes WAY better."  "Yeah, food 'from scratch'," said Manny.  "That's the good stuff, the real stuff." 

"We learned that eating too much junk and fast food is really bad for your body and your health," Mirlenys said.  "You should eat plenty of fruits and vegetables, and not too many sweets and things with lots of fat." 

"Eat seasonal!"  Eddie said.  "What does that mean?" I asked them.  "Ummm...it means, like, no strawberries right now," Jocelyn said.  "Right," I said.  "What else?"  "You should try to eat what grows at that time of year, and maybe close by to you, not from far far away," Ashley answered. 

"Oh yeah, and colors," Amber said.  "What about them?" I asked.  "You can sometimes tell what vitamins you're getting by the colors of the food you eat."  "Give me an example," I said.  "Squash or carrots, yellow and orange vegetables, are good sources of vitamin A." 

I was pretty satisfied with this pop quiz.  But even better was what happened next.  We decided on a celebratory ending for our penultimate class, and went out to lunch together at a Japanese restaurant -- their choice.  I was quite proud that no-one wanted to go to McDonald's or other more familiar options, but that they all wanted to "try something new."  Some of them were familiar with sushi -- and Manny suggested that we "go to one of those places where the chefs do tricks."  Since hibachi cooking no longer enjoys the vogue it once had in NYC, our only option for that was Benihana, which fortunately offers lunch specials.  Otherwise it would have been too costly.   

Our kids are brave tasters.  I ordered sushi for the table.  Playing it safe, I went for California Rolls, but Samantha, a sushi veteran, ordered Spicy Tuna Rolls, which she passed around.  Everyone ate some -- and, for the most part, liked them too.  They were suprised by the kick of wasabi, and wrinkled their noses at the pickled ginger.   They liked the ginger dressing on their salads, however, and enjoyed trying the various dipping sauces made with miso and other unfamiliar ingredients.  I ordered them some tempura too, which was rapidly gobbled up by all.   

They loved the theatrical aspect of Benihana -- which are the same things that make me, of course, scoff and dismiss it as a tourist joint.  But it's actually perfect for adolescents -- and epecially for a cooking class, since they could watch the food being prepared.  We all sat around a big communal table, passing food around, sharing everything.  They adored it when the "chef" for our table tossed shrimp tails into his big red toque with the tip of his chopping knife.  They clapped when he made a smoking "volcano" out of onion rings, and laughed when he shaped the fried rice into a beating heart right on the grill. 

They liked their grilled hibachi entrees and their yakisoba, which was compared favorably to lo mein, as well.  There were no complaints about the food -- and it was truly a joy to take this group out to lunch.  Teachers spend so much of their time in school feeling despondent about students' bad manners and insulting behavior.  My cooking group really knows how to clean up their act, however.   Not only were they well-behaved and easy to be with in public, they were also clearly relaxed and having a good time. 

They wanted to chat about one of their current favorite topics:  my strange desire to have an un-wedding.  "I don't know about this cupcake idea of yours," Ashley said.  They had asked about my "wedding cake" -- they are all, of course, quite desperate to be invited to the "wedding", not quite getting that I'm going to be married privately and have a couple of low-key parties for family and friends. The idea of no poufy white dress, no ceremony, etc., dies much harder for them than it does for G and myself, fortunately.  I had shared with them that G and I were probably going to have the somewhat hackneyed but extremely economical tower of cupcakes at our family party, rather than a traditional wedding cake.  They had never heard of such a thing.   "No knife?" Manny said, pouting.  "No ceremonial cutting of the cake, and keeping the special knife?"  "Don't worry," I said.  "We can cut a cupcake, and feed that to each other."  "Mmmm," said Ashley, disapprovingly.  "I think you deserve all the good traditional stuff."  What I actually want doesn't seem to be an issue. 

So I will miss them -- and I daresay, they'll miss me too.  But not too much.  One of the joys of working in a small school is that I see kids, all the kids, every day in our common space/lunchroom and in the halls.  "Miss!" Eddie will cry, running after me as I'm on my way to a meeting.  "I made the cookies -- the ones you made for us last week."  "How did they turn out?" I'll ask.  "Mmmm," he'll say.  "Not so good.  I didn't have any chocolate chips in the house, and I baked them kind of a long time."  But someday his cookies and everything else will turn out well, because he's giving it a shot.  He's trying, experimenting, seeing what works, what you can leave out, what you can't, how long your particular oven takes for a certain recipe.  "Miss Julie!" Alyssa calls.  "I"m gonna make the pumpkin bread recipe you gave us next week, for a family party."  "Good!" I say.  "Let me know how the family likes it." 

"If you don't do cooking, what are you going to teach next semester?" Samantha asks.  "The principal has asked me to do a blogging elective," I reply.  "Do you want to take it?"  A large number of them nod "yes."  "Yeah," says Manny.  "Especially if you keep bringing us the treats you make at home." 

Update: Cooking With Adolescents

No, the title is not meant to imply that I'm using the adolescents as ingredients, although sometimes allowing them to stew in their own juices is politic during a power struggle.  Just thought I'd post a brief update on my adventures with the cooking elective I've started at my school.

We've had three days of class with no actual cooking yet (I bought some time by insisting that we can't cook until they all bring in aprons).  Alexa (I'm using fabricated names here, since the kids are very protective of their identities -- except on MySpace) brought in a very sexy, tight little apron and is insisting that she wants to wear gloves in order not to ruin her elaborate nail extensions.  Nicqui “can’t boil water,” she claims --  and her friends back her up on that one.  The boys are excited about flouting the school's "no hats" policy, since I've told them they're allowed to wear "do-rags" or caps to keep long hair back.  Elisa informed me that she's taking the class because her grandparents feel that she needs to know how to cook for her future husband.  This generated a discussion of how cooking is a life skill for EVERYONE, boys included -- and that it's a great way for everyone to show others some caring and consideration, as well as a good dating skill.  "Yeah!" Emmanuel said.  "I hear cooking is a good way to get girls!"  Yep.   

Even more encouraging, a number of them expressed a desire to try new things. Rashida wants to learn to cook so that she can have some meal other than “brown stewed chicken” which she claims is served every night at her house.  Quite a few were forthright about wanting to know more about nutrition, which of course thrilled me no end.  Yes, I know I have no life, but these are the kinds of things that get teachers pumped up.  I had forgotten how much fun it is to teach an elective; everyone actually WANTS to be there, instead of teaching to a captive audience.

Today we had a brief lesson on macronutrients, and despite the fact that Marlena seems to think carrots are a protein, they were able to share a fair amount of knowledge about proteins, carbs and fats.  Adriana shared the fact that nuts contain healthy fats.  Shortly thereafter a conversation about meat and meat preparation ensued.  A number of kids postulated the theory that it’s unhealthy to eat beef cooked “partly raw”.  I told them that when I have a choice, I always eat my steak or burgers “bloody”, but that I also try to make sure that most of the meat I eat is organic or grass-fed. This evolved into some lively talk about food safety, including how to avoid salmonella and other forms of food poisoning. 

The interest level is incredibly high, despite the fact that no food has graced our tables yet.  Tomorrow we embark upon preliminary knife safety with sliced apples and a hokey fruit dip made of peanut butter, yogurt and honey.  This may sound strange to some, but I found this recipe printed up by some Greenmarket farmers a few years back, and it turned out to be rather yummy as well as very popular with school kids.

Fruit salad is in our near future, as is a tossed green salad with homemade vinaigrette – or maybe a variety of homemade dressings.  According to their questionnaires, a number of them are interested in making potato salad, which would be fine too, if I bring in potatoes that I pre-cook at home.  Or perhaps we’ll wait until I get the two-burner electric hotplate I’m planning to purchase.  Even so, potato salad will be a multi-day task – boiling potatoes and chopping celery, etc. during one half hour class, peeling and slicing and dressing them the next.  Fresh applesauce will also be possible with the advent of a hotplate, as will homemade cranberry sauce.  It occurred to me that I could bring in my waffle iron; waffles would be pretty do-able in a short time – and not a single one of my students has ever eaten a waffle other than a frozen Eggo, according to a brief poll I took today.  Making yogurt, fresh butter and mayonnaise would all be good lessons in "where food comes from," as well as separately demonstrating fermentation, separation and emulsification. 

I’m also contemplating some foods for Hispanic Heritage Month, which begins on Friday.  I’m sure that kids want to bring in some recipes from home, so I think we’ll have a great time with that too. Quesadillas, various kinds of salsas, fried plantains, guacamole and my favorite rice and bean dish, Nicaraguan Gallo Pinto, are contenders.  Dejanira, whose family hails from Mexico, apparently has a great taco recipe, and I found out that Rafa’s family is Chilean and he’d like to share some Chilean foods with us. We also have Puerto Rican and Dominican students, as well as African-American, so we’ll have a good number of traditions to draw from throughout the year – as well as making and tasting food from some less familiar cuisine.  The fact that cookies and brownies are unlikely without an oven elicits groans and sighs on an ongoing basis, sadly. I try to explain that even if we had a toaster oven, making quantities suitable for 16 of us within a half-hour period simply isn’t feasible.  I have come up with one halfway measure, so to speak:  we could conceivably make cookie dough and portion it into packets for students to bring home and bake on their own.

Tomorrow we take out the knives (not very good ones, either – rejects culled from various kitchens), even if it’s just for slicing apples.  Keep us in your thoughts.   

Kudos go out to Tanna, Cathy, Sucar, Melissa, Bakerina, Tea, Molly and Kelli for their supportive comments as well as a wealth of great suggestions.  Thank you all so much.

Like Kids in a Candy Shop

The beginning of a new school year is never seamless or smooth.  Never.  Especially when you're dealing with a school in a transitional phase -- like the small Bronx public school where I work as a literacy/writing consultant.  We're in our second year of expanding our arts-centric middle school into a middle/high school, which means that our high school has just grown from a single 9th grade class into a 9th and 10th grade.  Our classrooms are crowded and shared; we simply don't have enough space.  But we've all been rolling with the punches, faculty and students alike.  In June of 2009, we'll graduate our first class of seniors. We try to troubleshoot as many situations as possible, but unanticipated happenings always crop up.

As is always the case, the first week has been filled with surprises -- not the least of which was the moment when the principal came up to me and said "You're teaching a high school elective.  What do you want it to be -- cooking or blogging?"  Fortunately or unfortunately, my reputation precedes me, due to the baked goods I bring to staff meetings and my one loyal reader on the faculty, who often mentions to others how much he enjoys this blog.  The problem is that the elective slot is going to be difficult no matter what the subject.  Electives are held for only half an hour, right before lunch.  I couldn't quite see how I would help between 15 and 20 adolescents set up their own blogs in such a limited time space.  Cooking too is problematic.  It's too short a time to actually set up, prep, cook and clean up any dish of substance -- in addition to which, there's no kitchen and no equipment.  The food service staff isn't exactly going to welcome me and my motley crew into their industrial-strength kitchens -- and certainly not in the 1/2 hour before lunch is to be served.  Too bad, because those kitchens might be glad to have real food cooked in them for once, instead of having frozen pizza and hamburgers reheated in the huge ovens, day after endless day. 

Given two impossible choices, I went with cooking.  I made sure that kids knew that we wouldn't actually be cooking every day, that we wouldn't be making things like chocolate chip cookies, since we had no oven, and that nutrition would comprise a large part of the curriculum.  Despite this cold-water reality check, fully a third of the 9th and 10th grade students chose cooking as their preferred elective.  Is it just that food is involved, and they're anticipating lots of snacks?  Or do some of them actually want to learn about what they eat and how to prepare it?  This and the answers to many other questions about how one teaches cooking with no kitchen in 4 weekly slots of 1/2 hour each will eventually be revealed. 

Cooking, interestingly enough, turned out to be by far the most sought-after elective.  Of the 65 students who listed cooking as their first choice (countless others had it second, third or fourth), I chose 17.  I wanted to cap it at 15, since I'm working out of a very small classroom with no real cooking facilities, but I had to let a few more in.  This is one of the few times during the school day when grades actually mix, so I went for a balance of 9th and 10th graders, girls and boys.  I took some of our tougher kids, figuring that this might be a place to grab their interest as we learn a bit, just a bit about chemistry, geography, history, foreign languages, math, literature, and all the other domains that are also ingredients in in the culinary world.

Tomorrow is our first meeting.  I'm creating a little questionnaire, and an introduction/icebreaker activity.  I'm busily making up a sheet of expectations (everyone has to bring their own apron!  Wash your hands before you come to class!) and even homework requirements (bring in a piece of SEASONAL fruit to make fruit salad!  Do you know what fruits are in season right now?).  They get credits for electives, so actual work will be required of them.  Hopefully we'll write a mini-cookbook, complete with anecdotes and reflections from students about what they've made, eaten and tried.   

But what will we actually cook, once we get down to that part of the curriculum?  Well, I've gotten a mini-fridge for my shared office space, so at least I'll be able to store some fresh food.  There's a microwave, and I'm hoping to get one of those electric burner hot-plates, much as I hate cooking on electric stoves.  Years ago, I did quite a lot of cooking with my elementary school students.  But I had them for the whole day, so we could put together a soup and let it simmer on the hotplate while we had other lessons, and then eat our soup at the end of the day.  I could incorporate math lessons and science, reading and writing, geography and language into a unit on Breadmaking.  We made African peanut soup when we studied Nigeria, and did a chemistry lesson with chocolate pudding.  We visited a Greenmarket, and made applesauce with the apples we brought back. 

For now, I'm thinking about salads, both vegetable and fruit, since they will require only chopping boards, knives, bowls and ingredients; possibly salsa and guacamole; sandwich combinations, wraps, and bruschetta. Since I got my new tangerine-colored Waring Blendor at the Broadway Panhandler sale, our old blender can be brought to school to make nutritious smoothies.   Our limitations are not only spatial and monetary, however.  Our kids, for the most part, are not exactly brave tasters.  Many of them eat chips and soda for breakfast, shunning healthier options.  Lunch, as I've said, is almost always frozen pizza or hamburgers, tinned fruits and vegetables that the kids don't even bother with  -- and many of them don't eat lunch at all, unless it's more junky snack foods that they've brought in on their own.  I don't know how many of them actually sit down to a home-cooked family dinner each night, but I doubt the numbers are large.  This will be an opportunity to have them expand their horizons, begin to figure out their own predilections, develop an adventurous palate.  I want them to try new things, venture into new disciplines, learn about places and times outside their experience -- all through a bit of minimal "cold cooking".  I want them to learn to love fruits and vegetables as much as they love candy.  As you well know, I'm certainly not one of those who think that we should completely refrain from an intermittent or even a daily treat.  You will take my sugar and butter from me when you pry it from my cold dead hands.  However, I do believe that a sweet should be a (small) component of a healthy meal.  Far too often our students have candy, soda and junk foods as the entirety of their meals. 

Think of us as we're mucking about with fruit salad and such.  I hope that culinary adventuring will be a window into some brave new worlds.  I hope we'll have as much fun as kids in a candy shop, only instead of tummy-aches and sugar-glut, we'll end up with personal discoveries about tastes and preferences, as well as a few delicious and nourishing dishes.  Knife skills will surely be the scariest part for me, not because our kids will do anything deliberately unsafe, but because we all get cut using knives from time to time.  Since I myself could really use a good knife skills class (Shuna, are you coming to NY any time soon?  In fact, I realize that as I write this, you've just started today's knife skills class in Alameda...sob).  Somehow, I have to figure out how to teach them to use knives safely. 

And so I ask for your help.  Given the limitations I've outlined above, what else can/should I make with my new crop of 15 and 16 year olds?  Give me ideas for dishes that can be made without a kitchen (at moments like these, I like to think of my darling friend Bakerina fermenting sourdough starter and marinating steak in her purse while at the office).  What other kinds of learning do you see as implicit in a high school cooking curriculum?  All replies will be gratefully received. 

The photo above is from Munchies candy store in Sausalito, which has the enlightened policy of allowing shoppers and even browsers to sample as many candies as they wish from the barrels and bins.  You'd think they'd go out of business, but on the two occasions we've visited, we haven't been able to leave the store without dropping at least $20 for bags of our old-time favorite "penny" candies (which we eat in very limited quantities between our fruits and vegetables, of course).  Smart marketing ploy.   

Happy Blogamonthaversary!

"The next night, after we had moved and arranged about having Al's trunks of books sent from the station,  I looked up the word anniversary in my dictionary and told Madame that it was our first one.  'Impossible,' she shouted, glaring at me and then roaring with laughter when I said 'Month, not year.'"
        -- M.F.K. Fisher, The Gastronomical Me

A Finger in Every Pie is one month old today.  New arrivals in one's life are generally difficult to care for, because you have to learn so much about them.  They require a great deal of love and attention -- but I must say, this baby is already quite rewarding.  Many, many thanks to all who are reading and commenting -- it does make it seem worthwhile.  My month-long free trial period with Typepad is now officially over, and I'm going to start paying for the privilege of doing this -- and I don't say that with irony, truly.  It does feel like a privilege, and the quite nominal fee I'll cough up for the blog is worth every cent. 

What I've discovered is that blogging is a marvelous thing.  It gives me the opportunity to work out a little, stretch my limbs as a nascent writer -- even when so much else is happening all around, to me and because of me.  Our lives constantly clamor for our attention -- loved ones, work, obligations of all kinds -- and many of us find that we need oases.  But there are times when the usual ones -- the "something that's just for me" is lacking in the right spirit.  I go to the gym or even to dance class, which I love, because it's good for me.  It's a release, surely, but it doesn't always give me all the sustenance I need.  In shopping some find their sanctuary, especially in large cities.  For others of us, though, it's fraught with economic ambivalence and the perils of decision-making -- something we do for necessity, not for recreation.  Occasionally, in the right company, I can be persuaded to indulge in a brief bout of retail therapy; for the most part, however,  shopping does not provide the hyacinths that feed my soul.  Making art and/or music are worthy passions, and ones I'd like to be able to pursue more, but don't really have the venues right now -- a class, a choral group, others to create with.  Cooking is wonderful -- it does feel both creative and nourishing on multiple levels.  But this is something else. 

I had thought at one point, more than a year ago, to try to collect a writers' group around me.  I joined a group formed by someone else, but it fell apart with amazing speed.  Something always came up for someone -- or for several someones -- and the whole project just quietly faded away.  I hope someday to have a writers' group, and to have time and space to write about many things:  food, education and its politics, literature for young people, adult fiction perhaps.  For now, however, this works well.  I love writing here, and I love reading comments and responding.  I like the fact that I feel some obligation to post regularly, but that I don't have to meet a deadline or be pressured in any way.  This is a good way to begin. 

As for celebrations -- I've been doing quite a lot of that lately.  And the fact that public schools are closed this week means that my days are free, although I'll have to attend a meeting and teach a grad class tomorrow.    And that, my friends, means Time, blessed time for whatever I want -- which is celebration enough.  It's so breathtakingly precious to have some days to myself.  Today I cleaned out a few kitchen cabinets, straightened up some areas of ongoing cumulative mess and took a damp cloth to bits of grime on walls and fixtures.  I was rewarded with the smug virtuous feeling that comes to those of us who are not cleaners by nature when we actually get off our nether regions and do something.  God knows I'd rather be cooking.  And doing other things.  Later in the week we might actually go see a movie, hallelujah.   

Yesterday was certainly a celebration of time to do what we will.  G and I went for a long, beautiful snow walk in Central Park.  I wanted to experience The Gates first hand, rather than just in passing.  G can't stand them -- not his kind of art.  To him they feel like an obstruction, an intrusion.  And although I think the scope of the project is heraldic and rather glorious, I could see his point.  At one point we wandered into a ravine where there were no bright safety-orange Gates.  We followed the little stream that flows through the park, trickling over rocks and through old natural stone bridge tunnels designed by Vaux and Olmsted.  We saw one cardinal, then several.  I pointed out the differences between the male and the female.  We realized that we were actually surrounded by cardinals -- and then we saw a downy woodpecker, right there in the middle of our city of eight million people.  Perhaps one of the lessons of the Gates is that we'll appreciate the spine-melting beauty of our park even more once they're gone. 

Earlier in the day I had made the delightful Cardamom-Cinnamon Buns posted by the extraordinary Moira over at Who Wants Seconds? (Her photo of these buns, by the way, is up for  Does My Blog Look Good In This?  Check it out.)  I won't post my own photo of them, since both the actual buns and my picture of them are to Moira's what The Crackers are to The Gates.    

In any case, the buns are quite, quite delicious, especially after a cold snow walk, especially with a cup or so of rich hot chocolate made with whole milk, a soupçon of cream, bittersweet chocolate and good cocoa...and topped with no less than 3 marshmallows per cup.  We knew we could have that many, because we deserved them.  The woodpecker and the cardinals told us so. 

Beginning with a Finger in the Pudding...

This isn't so easy, finding a way of beginning here. But I suppose that like so many have done before me, I'll just have to start by, well, starting.

For the last couple of years I've been reading, enjoying and have sometimes been inspired to cook from a number of lovely food-related weblogs. I often hear a nagging voice in the back of my mind, "Gee, why don't I do that too..." The idea of having my own little baby blog itched at me, but has remained for a while, percolating inside my head rather than springing forth. Well, boys and girls, I've finally decided to let it out.

So today -- the day we finally got our first true winter snowfall of the season here in New York -- seems as good a day as any. Especially since I decided that a snow day necessitates a good dessert, and I made chocolate pudding. Not just any chocolate pudding, mind you, but the one that makes your heart go pit-a-pat -- partly because it makes you remember the puddings of childhood, but also because it has a totally artery-clogging cap of whipped heavy cream. And it's made of real chocolate, and sugar, and whole milk, although you could play around here with 1 or 2% milk if you wanted to, I suppose. And you can play with the degree of chocolatiness too. I use 70% or 85% cocoa solids chocolate -- either Scharffen Berger or Lindt or Valrhona. The bitterness provides such a wonderful counterpoint to the fluffy vanilla or boozily rummy whipped cream. But you might not like such a densely, darkly chocolate undertaking, preferring to go for something that recalls more of a Jello Pudding experience -- which is certainly what we had when we were kids, and a big treat we thought it, too. So in that case go for the semisweet...

Old Fashioned Chocolate Pudding

This recipe has evolved over a period of years from an attempt to turn a cornstarch-based vanilla blancmange into chocolate pudding. It took a while to get the proportions exactly right. I know the ingredients don't look like much, but somehow the result is greater than the sum of its parts.

What I've listed below makes quite a lot, so you can cut it in half if it sounds like too much. It's my favorite comfort dessert, so I tend to make an extra-large batch. The quantities below make about 8 servings.

6 oz. best bittersweet chocolate, chopped
4 cups organic whole milk
5 tablespoons cornstarch
1/2 to 3/4 cup sugar
pinch salt
1 teaspoon vanilla (I love love love Nielsen-Massey Madagascar Pure Bourbon Vanilla)

1 1/2 cups organic heavy cream (we get this great stuff from Jersey cows that's thick and almost yellow)
1 teaspoon vanilla and/or 1 Tbsp. rum
2 tablespoons superfine/caster sugar

In a medium bowl, whisk together the cornstarch, sugar and salt. Slowly add 1/2 cup of cold milk, whisking until the mixture is smooth. Heat the remaining 3 1/2 cups of the milk to just below boiling in a large saucepan. Turn off heat, stir in chocolate, and let it melt thoroughly. Whisk the chocolate and milk together well. Stir about 1/2 cup of this hot mixture into the cornstarch paste, whisking to insure that it stays smooth. Pour it all back into the saucepan with the rest of the milk and chocolate, stirring constantly. Heat gently until the mixture is just boiling, stirring until it thickens to a custard consistency, and unctuously (don't you love that word?) coats your wooden spoon. Remove from heat, and stir in the vanilla.

Pour into a large serving dish, or into individual ramekins or bowls. Let cool to room temperature, and refrigerate until chilled. Whip the chilled cream until stiff, beating in the sugar and vanilla or rum. Top the large pudding with cream, or dollop it on top of individual servings, and enjoy.