Curry Carrot Soup

Well, the rain has officially started here in the Pacific Northwest. Sure, we had a few day stretch about a month ago when it sprinkled, but that wasn’t really the start of the rainy season. A few last warm sunny fall days had been promised, so spirits were still high. And then yesterday happened. Gray and rain, and we officially stepped foot into the weather Seattle is known for. The showers permeated the city, the old windows in our apartment started to rattle against the wind and the “clunk, clink, whoosh” of the steam radiators that heat our apartment building kicked in at 7am.

Once I drug myself out of the quilted cocoon (a.k.a. my bed), and had a cup of tea, I spent the morning hanging shelves all over my apartment (which, by the way, has no storage, but very high ceilings). I realized around 3 pm I was famished, and found an onion and some carrots in the fridge: fixins for a perfect meal to welcome in the fall weather. Nothing beats hot soup on a cool day, especially when it doesn’t take much time or effort. 
 

Curry Carrot Soup

Nikki McClure adorns my walls

A new place doesn’t feel like home until the pictures are hung. I can continue to live out of boxes as I slowly put stuff away in their new spaces and still feel settled if I’ve got pretty stuff on the walls to look at. So last night I thought, “walls be damned, I’m not waiting to paint! I’m a gonna hang me up somethin’ purdy to look at.”

Nikki McClure has long since been one of my favorite artists. Before she started creating totally amazing art with an exacto knife, I would rock out to her song “Ominvore,” the last track on the Stars Kill Rock compilation and dream of singing in my own grrl punk band. Now, 14 years later, I get to sit in my living room (or I will be able to, as soon as I get my hammock up), look at her amazing cut paper prints that adorn my walls, and think about the somewhat circular life I lead. 

But back to the prints: I ended up picking up a tension wire from Ikea the other day (do you know expensive 6-14x18” frames are? Fuck that!) and just clipped the prints along the tension wire. It was a cheap solution and they look pretty damned good (and will look even better once I get my walls painted.) I must give props where they are due, so a major thank you to my friend Vanessa who hung her prints on twine with wooden clothespin. Also a rad solution for a small budget.

Nikki McClure’s prints speak of simplicity and compassion, sustainability and community, and have a quintessential northwest style. Plus, they’re all paper cuts- the lady’s got mad skills with an exacto knife. Each of the six I choose represent a truth that is intrinsic to me, and serve as a reminder on how I wish to live my life. Take a look for yourself, and if you fall in love with her work, you can always grab one through buyolympia.com

 

Miso Soup

This is a very simple miso soup - one that you can make when you move into a new apartment and have shit-all in the pantry. Somehow, I had some sushi seaweed, some tofu, and some buckwheat soba noodles. We’ve been so busy unpacking and setting up house, we haven’t gone to the market for much more than beer and Corn Pops. Thank fucking god the box from the CSA comes tomorrow. Our apartment is in unpacking upheaval with no chairs and a landside of shredded paper and cardboard, but a good friend showed up anyways with a tub of miso paste and I knew we had the makings of a decent meal. Plus, it’s super fast and easy. 

 
Impromptu Miso Soup

Pumpkin Risotto

I love autumn in the Pacific Northwest. Leaves on only a few trees change colours in the evergreen state, and when you stumble upon one, it’s a treasure. Sunny days also must be treasured by pulling on a sweater and a scarf, taking a stroll, and soaking in the crisp chill of the air. But the rain provides a nice break, a chance to hole up wherever you may call home and cook, write, play music, read a book, or make art. So if you’ve ever wondered why the PNW gives birth to so many creative people, blame it on the rain. There’s also small local farms dotting the landscape, so on a sunny day, you might find yourself at a farm picking pumpkins. And the next day, when it’s grey and raining, you might find yourself making pumpkin risotto.

Pumpkin Risotto

Nice (Spice) Rack

I just spent eight weeks obsessively looking at spice jars and racks. I’m not exaggerating. First I looked at those damned test tube racks, scouring cookware stores and science material stores on the interwebs until my fingers turned red from banging on my keyboard in frustration. I thought I had figured out what I wanted, when I went to a friend’s house for tea and ended up helping her pour spices into her test tube spice racks using funnels we rolled out of sheets of paper. As it turns out, test tubes don’t actually hold more than a few tablespoons, and form over function definitely does not apply. At that point, it was "Fuck you, test tubes!"

So I looked at wholesale jar outfits, more cooking stores, houseware stores, container stores, spice jar realtors and more. If there’s a spice jar on the market, by this point, I’ve seen it. I also looked at spice racks (wall mounted, I have very little counter space) knowing the only thing I didn’t want was something from Ikea. I looked on etsy, ebay, thrift stores, department stores… the list goes on. And finally, I found the perfect rack, and the perfect jars. Ironically, I decided upon the one thing I was against when I set out- the Grundtal Ikea spice rack. In itself, it isn’t anything special, but matched with miniature old timey canning style jars I originally spotted at MarketSpice Tea (and later found on sale at Crate & Barrel), it’s perfect. The rack is just the right size for the jars, and holds 21 jars total. Plus, my spice jars now match my pantry jars. I get weirdly particular about things in my kitchen–nothing else in the apartment has been unpacked, and the walls are still a shitty shade of brown-gray, but as long as I’ve got my spice rack and a cast iron skillet, I’m doin’ alright. 

Top Row: Ground Ginger, Ground Coriander, Ground Cardamom, Bay Leaves, Black Lava Salt, Sel Gris, Alder Smoked Sea Salt. Middle Row: Garlic Powder, Rubbed Sage, Herbes de Provence, Turmeric, Ground Cumin, Clove, Ground Nutmeg. Bottom Row: Ground Mustard, Chili Powder, Smoked Paprika, Sumac, Cumin Seed, Fennel Seed, Black Sesame Seed. Below Shelf I’ve hung measuring spoons, my ginger grater, and my tea infuser spoon. Stay tuned for a post in the near future one why all these spices (and minerals) are my staples.

Quinoa and Roasted Veggies (or, what to do with all the remnants of the CSA box)

A few weeks ago, I attended “Apples in the Orchard,” a potluck/ cider press on this darling Island on which I grew up. Like most potlucks I go to, I wanted to make a dish that could feed a lot, tasted great, and didn’t cost much. I also wanted to use up all the little remnants of vegetables in the fridge from my mother’s CSA subscription that had yet to find a dish. There were a few yellow squash, some chard, mustard greens, and a red pepper. After 15 minutes of standing in front of an open fridge, ignoring my mother’s voice in my head going “Close the door! You’re wasting energy and killing the planet!” I decided to fall back on my trusted standby “I don’t know what the hell to do with these veggies!” dish. Roasted veggies and quinoa. Fast, simple, and fucking delish! Bring it to a potluck and your omni friends minds will be blown, or just make a batch and eat the leftovers for lunch throughout the week. 

Roasted Veggies and Quinoa

On Friday, I saw Corin Tucker...

Her glitter eye shadow left remnants; a diatomic piece lying on her pectoral muscle next to her armpit kept catching the light. Halfway through the first song, the strap of her red plaid dress slid off her shoulder, and when she re-adjusted, it twisted and stayed that way the rest of the show. I stood in the second row, held hands with my good friend and cried like a bitch the whole time.

See, I’ve followed Corin Tucker’s musical career since I was 14. First listening to Heavens to Betsy, and later, Sleater-Kinney. The Riot Grrl movement shaped my identity in the mid-nineties. I saw Sleater-Kinney play live more times than I can count, from shows at RKCNDY, a now defunct all ages club in downtown Seattle, where my fourteen year old self was pressed against the edge of the stage, to a 21+ show at the Showbox a few months before I left Seattle for the east coast. Corin Tucker’s soft subtle melodies paralleled with her belting warble, that verges on a scream filled with passion followed me through moves; friendships formed and lost, death, break-ups, and immense joy.

So when I learned months ago she had recorded a new album, and was going on tour, I bought tickets as soon as they went on pre-sale, called a friend who had been crushed up against that stage at RKCNDY with me, and cried when she heard Corin Tucker’s voice live. The album hadn’t yet been released, but it didn’t matter. When the show started, we stood, 2 rows back, held hands, jumped up and down to Doubt (the only song on the new LP, 1000 Years, even remotely in the style of Sleater-Kinney) and cried the rest of the show. She is still one of the only musicians I’ve ever seen that is better in concert than in person, apparently no matter who she plays with.

The songs in her most recent endeavor are slower, more deliberate. Carefully planned. But her howl can still be found. Her music has changed, she still wore the glitter eye shadow and the vintage style dress, but, like us, she had grown up.

Oh, and P.S., during the encore, she sang The Golden State, by John Doe, with Eddie Vedder. I totally lost it.