Constance Cobbler

From Views from the Carrot Condo by Trista Cornelius

September 1, 2010

It’s only a little after seven, but it’s already dark enough outside that we turn on the dining room light, a nostalgic feel after long, bright summer days. It happens so fast, the shortening and darkening of the days. I try not to think about it and turn my attention to our dessert.

My man leans back in his chair, curves his right hand around his bowl, and with his left hand holds his spoon straight up in the air. He closes his eyes. The back of the spoon faces me, reflecting in miniature a woman, elbow on the table, chin leaning into hand. She looks like a Modigliani painting sort of stretched and swerved, languid. Behind her, warped by the spoon’s reflection, floats an image of a large etching of a poppy flower framed in blue.

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Harmonious Hummus

From Views from the Carrot Condo by Trista Cornelius

August 18, 2010

It had been an adventurous and full weekend, so by Sunday night, I ached all over and looked forward to sleep. After a long overdue grocery run, I put away our stock while my man finished where I had left off grooming the front yard, another long overdue task. It was 97 degrees outside and 80-something in, so I brainstormed what to make for dinner that would require no heat.

Spike and I were happily gnashing ingredients when my sweaty man came in from the yard.

“The symphony’s playing in the park,” he said, “The neighbors just left.”
“Our park?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“How do people know about these things?” I exasperated.
“The paper. It was in the arts section,” he said.
“I read that section!” I huffed and then gave in, “When does it start?”
“I dunno. I’m sure not for a while. They’re early risers getting a good seat,” he said about our perpetually organized neighbors whose order I envy on frequent occasions.

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Lemon-Lavender Shortbread Cookies

From Views from the Carrot Condo by Trista Cornelius

August 4, 2010

During one of our first dates years ago, my man told me he didn’t like sweets, that he didn’t really like desserts. I’d been utterly flabbergasted earlier when he told me he did not like chocolate, but I got over it quickly when I realized there would be more for me. Not liking desserts, however, was not something I could comprehend. I grew up eating a homemade dinner every night with homemade dessert after—_always_—usually cookies, the whole jar set out on the center of the table to take as many as we pleased. Not liking dessert registered as gibberish in my mind, complete nonsense, static. I think I just sort of nodded absently.

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Dance Party Breakfast

From Views from the Carrot Condo by Trista Cornelius

July 14, 2010

A few days ago, my man and I watched The Wiz. Have you seen it? It’s the 70s version of The Wizard of Oz with Diana Ross as Dorothy and Michael Jackson as the Scarecrow. Here’s a good trailer to give you an idea of the wonderful weirdness that is The Wiz. It’s set in New York City, and the Emerald City is inside the World Trade Center Towers. There’s a huge dance scene at the base of the towers--sad and ominous to watch it now.

Anyway, Michael Jackson dominates every scene he’s in because he’s so good; even when he’s just standing still you look at him because he’s so fully in character. I was in sixth grade when Michael Jackson was crazy famous, and I took him, his talent, and his fame for granted. No big whoop. Seeing him here, however, in his early days made me see just how talented he was. So, I borrowed Michael Jackson the Ultimate Collection, five music CDs, from the library.

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Vegan Cannelloni and Raw Wraps

From Views from the Carrot Condo by Trista Cornelius

July 2, 2010

Apparently, I had a thing for rolled up food this week: vegan cannelloni for dinner and raw wraps for a day hike.

Vegan Canneloni:

I’ve never made stuffed pasta before, and I expected it to be frustrating to work with the cannelloni tubes (actually, manicotti tubes because the store didn’t have cannelloni ones…what is the difference? Based on my food encyclopedia, I’m guessing manicotti are a bit shorter and wider?).

I assumed the tubes would tear, fall apart, stuffing would ooze out, and I’d have a fractured mess rather than tightly stuffed tubes laid out on a bed of rich tomato sauce like campers tucked into their sleeping bags—snug as a bug in a rug—which is how they turned out.

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Vixen Red and Black Dessert

From Views from the Carrot Condo by Trista Cornelius

June 25, 2010

June 20, Sunday night:

OMG!! First of all, I rallied myself to make Ginger-Hoison Noodles for dinner in spite of a dark, rainy, below-60-degrees, “summer” Sunday that had both my man and me lethargic and lost, lounging on the sofa all day, scowling at every jogger to bound past our living room window.

Even more impressive for such a melancholy day, we managed to march ourselves to the grocery store after dinner to do the week’s shopping. We motivated ourselves by agreeing to buy treats for each of us, something sweet and decadent to nurse these Sunday night blues.

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Vacation Breakfast

From Views from the Carrot Condo by Trista Cornelius

June 18, 2010

Yesterday was my first day of summer vacation, my stomach knew it, and she refused to palate oatmeal for breakfast—my staple for breakfast since September:

I’d come home from yoga, cut dried apricots or mango while waiting for a cup of water to boil, add a 1/2 cup of Bob’s Red Mill organic old-fashioned oats, then let it simmer while I took my shower. Wrapped in a towel, I’d run into the kitchen, turn off the heat, stir in the dried fruit, and let it all cool, so by the time I was dressed, I could sit, eat, and get out the door to work. Efficient, healthy, filling, and comforting.

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The Spinach is Worth the Wash

From Views from the Carrot Condo by Trista Cornelius

May 9, 2010

We’re making burritos for Mothers’ Day dinner: beans, rice, avocado, salsa, olives, carrots, and—lettuce or spinach? Mom, Dad, and I are at New Seasons gathering supplies. We decide on spinach, but the tight bunches look dirty and bruised. The pre-washed, cut, dried, and bagged spinach nearby, however, looks too, well, too clean and dry! Too removed from the source. Then, we notice that the bruised bunches are local. “But then you’ll have to go to the trouble of washing it,” my mom says in a tone reminiscent of my grandmother (her mother).

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No Time for Dinner

From Views from the Carrot Condo by Trista Cornelius

April 30, 2010

My man and I both work a lot. We love to work. We love our jobs. We’re not workaholics, of that I am sure, and yet I couldn’t tell you how we differ. I’ve always thought it both practical and important that he and I either make dinners together, or trade off nights, and that we sit down to a homemade meal together most nights of the week.

Well, lately, for various reasons, that’s not happening. No time, home too late, not enough energy, and some days, the worst thing of all for me--no motivation.

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Mount St. Helens Party Food

From Views from the Carrot Condo by Trista Cornelius

April 24, 2010

I just wrote an embarrassing story about my memory of Mount St. Helens erupting 30 years ago at my other blog. The memory reminded me of another one.

My dad was taking flying lessons the same year the mountain erupted, and when it was allowed, he took my mom, me, and my great uncle up and around the crater. For some inexplicable reason, I fell deeply asleep in that one and only plane ride with my dad. I don’t know if I was scared or sick, or if the plane had the same effect on me as riding in a car, which was to lull me to sleep. I was still a little kid, fascinated by the mountain, but a bit clueless about what an opportunity I was sleeping through.

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