November Nostalgia

It’s these moments, when my big dogs are sacked out, back-to-back in a quiet house, that my chest feels it could explode with contentment. Is that phrase an oxymoron?

“Everything Changes,” by Sarah Bareilles plays on the stereo. Seems fitting. It is November and the seasonal merry-go-round continues to turn. We are in the bare-branches and rusty, remaining leaves phase of fall. Things are changing. The young couple who live next to us are going to be moving. They have been fantastic neighbors, and their toddler daughter a joy. We'll miss them, but they are moving into the meat of their lives, new jobs and settling near family. I'm excited for them. Sadness and excitement really can exist together.

My Maineiac heart vacillates between peace and a little nostalgia. Autumn is always about nostalgia for me. Losing leaves reminds of other loss. The theme this time of year is of passings. What was, is gone.

The landscape becomes more transparent in this land of hardwoods. I can appreciate the chance to see more sky, which harkens memories of my childhood in the Great Plains, where the sky is everything. A small smile is on my face as I write. 

The dogs shift in their sleep, but still seek out contact. November has a new sense of warmth to me. I exhale with ease. In a while, I'll head outside to begin raking this year's detritus, while thinking about what was and what will be.  

Autumn in the Maineiac Kitchen

My friend Denise is a fantastic cook and often my go-to for hep with my novice skills. She had made a date, bacon, and mozzarella pizza for a get-together in late summer.  It was scrumptious and inspired me to give pizza a try. 

Newsflash for novice cooks: easiest food to master! I don't have a pizza stone or peel. I thought about what might be somewhat equivalent for holding consistent heat and used a cast iron skillet. Turns out I am not the genius I thought I was, as a Google search turns up lots of these recipes. Anyhoo, I decided to make a fig, Jarlesberg, and caramelized onion pizza. (No bacon, as my husband is a vegetarian.) It was perfection. 

I used this Jim Lahey no-knead pizza dough recipe and seriouseats.com video for technique

Ingredients:

9 oz. package of Golden California Figs (my friend Denise has done this with (more if you need it to thicken the liquid)

1 tbspn. butter, one large onion chopped,

1/2 c (or more) of Jarlsberg cheese, one round of pizza dough (recipe link above) warmed to room temperature. 

Preheat the oven at 500. 

Process:

Never having cooked with figs, I was no sure what to do with the stems (update: you can leave them on if you want), so I cut them off each one, then sliced/chopped them up, threw them in a pot, almost covered them with water and brought it to a boil. It wasn't thickening enough, so I called Denise. She said, throw in a tablespoon of cornstarch and three more tablespoons of water, and then bring it to a boil, again. That worked! I then threw all of it into a food processor and pulsed it three times. It made a fig paste to spread onto the pizza. (You can decide how much fig you want. I used half of my paste.) I caramelized a large onion in butter (it was probably a tablespoon). Lastly, I shredded some Jarlsberg cheese. There are recipes for this combination with Gruyere, but that costs a fortune at my grocery store up here in the north woods. Jarlsberg is somewhat similar cheese, so I went with that. I spread the figs on first, then put half the onions, covered with Jarlsberg, and then the last half of the onions. 

One of the cast iron pan recipes I checked out said to briefly warm the pan on the stove top prior to putting the pizza in it.  Then, I switched the oven to the broiler, on High. Cooked the pizza for 5 minutes, and it was done! Gooey and golden and delicious, with a crust just crispy enough to make it a bit crunchy. Denise did say to pay attention to the crust and not let it get too burnt. I didn't have to do that. The five minutes seemed just right.

The trickiest part was getting it out of the skillet. I used two spatulas and went at it from either side, and plopped it onto a cutting board.

On to the next pizza! For this I went with maple syrup roasted butternut squash, caramelized shallots and onion, some sliced up left-over green pepper, grated mozzarella and parmigiano-reggiano cheeses, and a white sauce. The inspiration pizza was Brandon's of Kitchen Kofidence. You can find it here.

I peeled and sliced open a butternut squash, scooped the seeds out with an ice cream scooper (works for me), and then diced the squash. I drizzled both olive oil and maple syrup over the squash and mixed it up so all the pieces were covered with both liquids. That was topped by a sprinkling of sea salt and ground black pepper. I threw some fresh lemon thyme leaves into the mix, as well. I put it into a 425 degree oven and roasted for about 25 minutes, stirring around 10-15 minutes into the roasting. You can check around 20 minutes to see if the squash is soft enough to have a fork easily insert into it. It came out smelling lovely.

While the squash roasted I worked on the other ingredients. I made this white sauce adding some seasonings of my choosing (I didn't use basil, but relied on the lemon thyme in the roasted squash), and sauteed the shallot and onion in about a tablespoon of butter (feel free to reduce or add butter to your desire) until they were caramelized. The green peppers were leftovers so I didn't have to do anything there. I had sauteed them a day before for another meal, so you decide how you like them. 

Next, I placed the pizza dough (watch the serious eats video above to see how to "toss" it) into the pre-warmed skillet, slathered the white sauce onto it, scattered the roasted green peppers, squash and caramelized shallot and onion, covered with mixture of grated parmigiano-reggiano and mozzarella, and popped it under the high broiler.

This one went quickly and I forgot to take a picture of the finished product!

Roasted Squash Pizza Ingredients:

(white sauce) 2 tbspns. butter, 3 tbspns. flour, 1 c milk,1/4 tsp salt, 1/8 tsp black pepper, 1 clove garlic minced, 1/2 c parmigiano-reggiano; (rest of toppings) 1 butternut squash, two tbspns. maple syrup, 1 tbspn. olive oil, 1 tsp. fresh lemon thyme (or basil), 1 shallot, 1 medium onion, 1 green pepper, 1 tbspn. butter, 1/2 c. mozzarella grated, 1/2 c. parmigiano-reggiano grated.

Remembering, When It's Gone

The breeze, with its sounds of leaves brushing past other leaves, played its fall melody. Such a glorious song. Leaves floated down, like red and yellow notes descending on a page of music. I felt like I was in church. Not the church of Sunday sermons and crowds. Rather, the quiet of a church in mid-day, when no one is there. Just the hush and the colored light streaming from the stained glass windows. 

It got me to thinking about one of my favorite topics, the cycles of the seasons, the metaphors of life. How there is this last remarkable display of colors--that final push of what is left. How, during the winters of life, it can be hard to remember the potential a living thing holds. 

I had been listening to Sarah Bareilles's new song, "You Used to be Mine," from her musical score for the Broadway-bound show, Waitress. The woman at the song's center has lost herself, has forgotten all the vibrancy she used to hold. The winters of her life piled high and hard. There is one stanza that really hit me:

It's not what I asked for/ sometimes life, just slips in through a backdoor/ and carves out a person and makes you believe it's all true/ now, I've got you.

Give it a listen here.

I can't imagine there is a person who has not felt the same, at one time or another. That sense of losing your best self, the spirit that sustains you. Yes, there are people who manage to have a tighter hold on that, but I have learned that they, too, have periods when they lose their colors. 

To some degree, starting this blog was my attempt to get back to the part of myself that drew energy from the harmony in the world around me. Taking pictures, celebrating the glory of a walk in quiet woods, thinking about the poetry in life, listening to music that resonates, connecting with the people who matter most and also appreciate those things--all of this helps give meaning to my footsteps on this earth. All of this is creates the rhythm for my beating heart.

As I walk upon these remnants of the past seasons, I hear the music that lifts me, I feel the breeze that strokes my cheek, and I recognize I have a desire to see what is next.