Recipe to Warm Your Heart and Soul and Belly

Heather's Amazing Vegan Chili

I like recipes you can fudge. (I also like recipes FOR fudge, but that's a different matter entirely.) The thing about chili is that everyone makes it differently. Some people think it's essential to make it with beans. Others think meat is a key ingredient. I've seen it made without either. To me, chili isn’t chili without beans and tomato sauce. But if the beans and tomato sauce are the heart of the chili, then the spices, veggies and herbs are the soul. I hope you enjoy my chili recipe – but remember, this is just a framework – modify at will and make it your own!

Ingredients:
Margarine/cooking oil – a tablespoon or two
1 chopped red onion (Tonight I only used 1/4 onion, as it was all I had. Still good. See? Wiggle room.)
4 cloves fresh garlic – chopped (I’m a garlic purist – that minced sh*t from the jar is just gross)
1 can whole pinto beans, drained
1 can whole black beans, drained
1 can kidney beans, drained
1 can chick peas (garbanzo beans), drained
2 Mexican grey squash, washed, halved, and sliced – so cut into half-moon shapes
(Also good in addition or instead: bell peppers, zucchini, summer squash, yellow crookneck squash.)
Fresh organic oregano leaves (from my garden!)
1 large can plain tomato sauce
1 can plain (unseasoned) diced tomatoes
Half a small package of frozen corn
A good shaking of Tapatio sauce
A generous sprinkling of garlic salt
Black pepper / fresh ground peppercorns
A couple sliced fresh jalapenos, or if you're a Gringa cheater like me, one or two tablespoons of sliced jalapenos from the jar. And IF you ARE a Gringa cheater like me, go ahead and add in a dash of the juice from the jalapeno jar. ;)
1 package Mexican flavor Smart Ground (fake ground beef)
A dash of smoked paprika (Sounds all fancy, right? I bought a small can for a couple bucks at the Co-Op. No big deal, but super good!)
Fresh cut organic garlic chives (from my garden!)

Directions:
Heat oil or margarine in a large frying pan over medium heat.
Brown onions, garlic, and squash (or other veggies, except corn).
In a large stock pot, heat the tomato sauce and tomatoes over low heat.
Add oregano and all beans to the frying pan, and allow them to cook for a few minutes over medium heat, absorbing the flavor of the onions, garlic and oregano.
While beans are browning, add corn, Tapatio, garlic salt, pepper and jalapenos / jalapeno juice to the tomatoes.
After beans are heated through, add them to the tomato sauce mixture. Stir. Cook, covered on low for a few minutes.
Add in the corn. Cook, covered, a few more minutes, until the corn is getting all hot and bothered.
Add in the Mexican flavor Smart Ground. (I wait to add it in until later because it gets mooshy if cooked too long.) Cook on low for a few more minutes, stirring occasionally.
When the Smart Ground is making beautiful steamy love to the chili beans, add in the dash of smoked paprika and the garlic chives. (I add them in juuuust before taking the chili off so as not to mess with their delicate texture and flavor.)
Stir it all up again! Top with deliciousness below, and serve with pipin’ hot cornbread. Voila!

IMPORTANT: You may like thick chili or thinner chili. Thin it down as you cook by adding proportionally more tomato sauce or even a little water. Thicken it up by letting it simmer a little longer with the lid off. After adding the smoked paprika and stirring well to mix the flavors up, taste the chili to make sure you like it, and adjust the spicing as necessary.

Top with the following suggestions of deliciousness:
~ Black olives
~ Cheese – I prefer Spring Hill garlic cheese curds. Nom nom nom!! Cheddar or jalapeno jack also work well.
~ Onions
~ Fresh cut garlic chives or plain ol’ chivey chives
~ Sour cream
~ Whatever floats yer boat!

I love to make a big pot of chili and put it in Tupperware and freeze it for lunches and dinners! I even add cheese and olives on top inside the containers so each one is ready to take to work and pop in the microwave!

I had it tonight with cornbread, made from the recipe from the back of the Quaker corn meal container. You can get that recipe yourself so I won't post it here, but the bread was fabulously moist! Next time I make it, I'm going to try adding jalapenos to the corn bread it for extra kick!

SO. FREAKING. GOOD. RIGHT??

Can One Be Taught to Write?

Teaching Writing

To sum up a note I recently received, I was asked whether writing is something that can be taught to anyone. The inquirer is a musician, who stated that he tries to imagine how he could teach music to another person. He mentioned that it feels like an intrinsic talent/passion to him, and wondered whether it's the same with writing. He said he's always loved to read, but he thinks that reading and writing are two completely different things.

My reply:

P-J,

I ask you this: Are appreciating music and making it so different? Or do they feed off one another? That's how I look at writing. I've become acutely aware of this recently, as I haven't been reading as much as I usually do lately. I can tell it's taken a toll on my drive to write, my creativity, my self-discipline, and even my vocabulary/ability to express myself. So while reading and writing are completely different, I do believe one must have a love of reading to truly be a great writer. Otherwise, one just comes off as self-absorbed, boring, vapid, banal. In my ever-so-humble opinion, that is. ;)

To answer your question about whether one can be taught to write... well, I suppose I'd have to say both yes and no. There are techniques; styles; mechanics; grammar; spelling; and formulas that can be taught. There are masters and mistresses of the craft of the word who can help a person find her or his own voice.

But I think it's more a question of whether a person WANTS to write, and whether that is how one chooses to express herself or himself. Some people have a creative force, or perhaps an idea that can't properly be expressed in any other way aside from explicit use of words. If that person, who is a medium for that idea or that creative force, chooses to discipline and dedicate himself or herself to the craft of writing, and to seek knowledge about how to improve her or his craft, then, yes. One can be taught to write.

But if a person does not give a flying F about expressing the self or the idea through words, then, no. One cannot be taught to write.

But now I've gone on long enough. What do you think?

~ Heather

PS - I don't always speak in such an erudite manner. I promise, dude. ;)

What are your thoughts, Reader?

A fabulous poem!

I think the line breaks are a bit funky on this, but it's still fabulous:

God Says Yes To Me
by Kaylin Haught

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that ...sometimes
she said you can do just exactly what you want to do
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't
paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she
picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

Goodbye, Hello

Clothes

I have too many clothes. There’s a plethora of reasons I may hold onto something…

~ Because someone I love gave it to me;
~ Because I am waiting for the perfect thing to wear it with;
~ Because I might iron it next time it comes out of the dryer wrinkled;
~ Because I might like it better on me the next time I try it on…
… and so on.

So I’m always on the verge of getting rid of about half of what I own. I devised a new way to say goodbye to clothes I don’t wear so much, but am not quite ready to get rid of: Wear each item one last time before popping it into the clothing swap bag*, and make it as memorable as possible.

The last time I ever wore my pale green World Peas sleeveless tee shirt – the one that has a pea pod on it with tiny earth-peas inside – was a few weeks ago. My friends R and A were en route from Burning Man to San Francisco, playa dust still molding their hair into wild, lovely chunks. They parked at my place and we walked to the Tower Café. We sat at the angular table outdoors, me at the apex, under the warm white glow of the lights strung in the trees. I had a glass of white wine, and the Caprese salad. My birthday had been the week before, so they surprised me by ordering a lemon tart from the dessert case! When it came, there was a little candle stuck in the top, and the waitress lit it. They sang me “Birthday” by The Beatles; “Happy Birthday”; and “God Danced the Day You Were Born” loudly and joyfully, and other diners grinned at us. One told us it was her birthday, and thanked us for the show. When R & A left, I gave them CDs to listen to for the drive home.

The last time I ever wore my blue plaid skirt was at a dinner party at E’s house last week. W was there, and E’s friends T and N. We laughed so much and had such a great conversation. We drank awesome chardonnay. E made delicious tofu, veggies and rice, and salad with sweet poppy seed dressing. I brought a chocolate cake, which I had baked with Reese’s Pieces, which ended up looking like moldy spots on the cake… it tasted good anyway. We piled onto the couch and watched silly YouTube videos while N tried to fix E’s mouse. I left with a big grin. I’m pretty sure it was the best dinner party ever.

* As most of my friends know I have a clothing swap party with my friend K twice a year.


Seasons

I feel the changing of the season. I feel the slowing of my world. I feel the way each person or thing is preparing itself for hibernation. I want tea and baked goodies and naps. I am less in the mood to go out, and more in the mood to sit and read.

Goodbye, summer, you sticky, coconut-scented, skin-baking thing. Goodbye sunshine till late evening. Goodbye, swimsuits and sunburns on legs I forgot to shave. Goodbye, choosing which pair of flip-flops look best with my tank top. Goodbye, eternal warm nights on roofs looking at stars. Goodbye, carefree, no-school-havin’ teenagers with highlighted hair and cell phones tucked into bras under aquamarine or orange tube tops. See you all next year.

Hello, autumn, you smoky-smelling, cool-aired thing. Hello, pajama pants, thick slipper socks, and soft glow of lamp. Hello, reason I kept my Netflix subscription through the blur of nights I preferred going out while Tyvek-encased disks collected dust near the TV. Hello, crisp apples and kids crossing the street in school zones and new, sharp-cornered magenta Dora the Explorer backpacks. Hello, crunchy brown and yellow and red speckled leaves falling on rivers and into gutters. Hello, cat in my lap and orange sherbet-colored blanket of cloudy urban night sky. Hello, Halloween costumes, Thanksgiving potatoes, and everything pumpkin. Hello, nutmeg. Hello, long-sleeved top the color of baked yams creamed with marshmallows and butter. How’ve you all been?

Petrichor and Other Autumn Joy

Eleven Cool Things To Love About Fall

A few days ago, I was feeling kind of gloomy about the impending end of summer, and so I posted a status update on Facebook saying as much, and soliciting from my friends things to enjoy about autumn. My friends responded in full (gale) force! What a windfall!

Kel Munger of the Sacramento News and Review thought the list was fun stuff, and posted a condensed version to the SNR's blog, SNOG.

And now, shamelessly stolen from SNOG, I present you with the Top Ten Reasons to Love Autumn in Sacwhich was shamelessly stolen from my Facebook page! Shameless thievery abounds!

10. Walking around without sweating out all your bodily fluids,

9. Wearing awesome socks without melting,

8. Flannel!,

7. Apple Hill! Cider!,

6. Leaving the windows open during the day,

5. Fall colors, followed by the crunching sound of leaves under your feet,

4. Dusting off the Crock-pot and making soup,

3. No more air-conditioning,

2. The sound of rain on the roof, and

1. The smell after it rains!

Read the SNOG posting here, or friend me on Facebook to read the entire status message with all its deliciously detailed comments!

Also, thanks to S, and to Wikipedia, for informing the masses that there is, in fact a word to describe the smell of rain. That word is "petrichor."

The term was coined in 1964 by two Australian researchers, Bear and Thomas, for an article in the journal Nature. In the article, the authors describe how the smell derives from an oil exuded by certain plants during dry periods, whereupon it is adsorbed by clay-based soils and rocks. During rain, the oil is released into the air along with another compound, geosmin, producing the distinctive scent. In a follow-up paper, Bear and Thomas (1965) showed that the oil retards seed germination and early plant growth.

Finally, a haiku I wrote awhile back about enjoying fall without risking the ire of landscaping neighbors:

Leap in piles of leaves!
Jump only vertically…
Don't scuff; leave no mess.

I hope you enjoy fall, friends and readers, and keep me posted on your seasonal adventures!

Ode to Oatmeal

We decided to write odes at our writing group meeting tonight. I wrote an

Ode to Oatmeal

O oatmeal,
you simplest
of foods,
you most unassuming
nutritious
victual,
you shy,
naked,
quivering
bowl of mush.
How insulting
your properties
sound!
But how essential
you are,
quietly nourishing
entire generations
and their children's children's children.

O oatmeal,
you never asked
to be dressed up
in apple-sugar
and paraded in boxes
through 10-Items-Or-Less lanes
at Vonn's, Albertson's or Safeway
by soccer moms
with false eyelashes
and purses they can't afford,
by college students,
pulling crumpled dollar bills,
one
by
one,
out of front jeans pockets.
No, you gnashed
your teeth
and cringed
and sighed
the day they shook
maple flakes into you
and put you in
plastic-lined
brown paper packets,
hermetically sealed
by the crimper
at the end of the
assembly line.

If you had your way,
o oatmeal,
you'd only be
sold in bulky
cylinders,
with
"rolled oats"
humbly printed
in plain Arial font
on the label.

O oatmeal,
you would be
satisfied
to live your
life
out among the
heather,
beneath a cloudy
sky,
the shepherd's fiery-haired wife
slowly bringing
you
to
a boil,
in her cream-colored
sweater,
wouldn't you?

An Olfactory Tour of SacTown

Last fall, I was in the midst of writing a piece about the smells of Sacramento, when the Sacramento News and Review published Josh Fernandez's article "Inhaling the City." I scooped together the bits I'd written and stitched them together into following letter. Enjoy!

Letter to the Editor

October 27, 2008

Dear [Sacramento News & Review] editor,

A big “bravo!” to Josh Fernandez for his article “Inhaling the City” (October 23, 2008). Having always been a scent-sitive soul myself, I thrilled to read about Josh’s olfactory memory associations. Many writers neglect the power of smell in their works.

I am an aficionado of the olfactory myself, and have many memories linked to odors. Having been raised in Placerville, the musty smell of caves and mines immediately evokes evenings spent at the coffee shop at the converted Pearson’s Soda Works (now the Cozmic Cafe) which itself is built into a hill. The smell of tar reminds me of an indistinct nightmare, so summertime construction projects always make me illogically squeamish. Wet summer grass is the smell of road trips and being achingly in love at eighteen. Fresh laundry drying is one of the best scents: it immediately takes me back to a particular rainy afternoon spent listening to Sarah Vaughan and reading paperback novels in my bedroom, just next to my apartment complex’s laundry room. I was shivering under a rust-colored afghan blanket, but couldn’t bear to shut out that clean, wet smell. And smelling pie baking will always take me to Thanksgiving Eve in my grandmother’s orange-linoleumed kitchen, where I would sprinkle the pie crust dough scraps with cinnamon and sugar, and bake them on a cookie sheet into crumbly "cookies".

This summer, at age 26, I belatedly taught myself to properly ride a bike. Since mounting my blue mountain bike, I have often found myself toodling through Downtown, sniffing wildly at fleeting smells, like a dog with her head out a car window. I’ll sometimes find several in a single block. For example, T Street between 11th and 12th Streets tonight smelled of sour and smoky cooking (sausage and sauerkraut, perhaps?); the faintly acrid tang of a just-peeled green banana; and something perfumey, like the bubble bath I used as a pre-teen. Downtown Sacramento's alleys are even more fragrant than the streets, exuding the rich scents of backyard soil, ripe garbage cans, and motor oil.

In fact, I think the yellow-jacketed Downtown Sacramento Partnership guides ought to offer tourists SacTown Scent Maps. Here are some olfactory packages to get them inspired:

Locale: Old Sacramento.
Time: Mid-day, warm weather.
Scents: Dust, chocolate (near Rocky Mountain), hay-laden horse droppings.

Locale: Southside Park neighborhood.
Time: 5:30pm to 7:30pm.
Scents: A mouthwatering menagerie of Asian delights on the stove: rice, hot oil, fish in the pan.

Locale: Capitol and McKinley Parks.
Time: Post-rain, springtime or early summer.
Scents: Wet pavement, infinite combinations of flora and fauna.

Locale: Lavender Heights.
Time: Saturday night.
Scents: Each carouser wears her or his own cocktail of scents, a mixture of beer, sweat, soap, cologne, and lotion.

My best friend J’s stepfather lost his sense of smell as a child to hay fever. I’ve often wondered, looking at him pityingly, what a world without my sense of smell would be like. When people ask those irritating “Would you rather…?” questions, aimed at forcing you to think long and hard about which fate would be worse, I usually answer to the one about deafness versus blindness, “either one, as long as I can still have my sense of smell.”