The Critical Mom Posts More Poems

They're part of a series about my husband.

Waking at Night

This nighttime sky holds winds, waters

A distant plane—

The moment goes on,

Another moment enters,

Exits, yet another

These moments

Continue coming,

Continue going,

Beside me, you are not.

Ancient, forgotten feeling,

So long gone, returns.

Three a.m. outside

Winds rushing,

Waters running,

Clouds waiting,

No voices, no dreams

Bedside Table

Your photo is beside me,

I pick it up, talk to it,

Hold the white frame with both hands

Kiss the glass face

Your smile, your eyes,

Your tie, some little piece of dust

In your hair? I’m actually

Reaching to brush it off?

Every part of you is there but you

I do my usual bedtime thing—

Pick it up, talk to you

As if you could hear me

But the more I tell you things,

The more you’re not there.

Going the Stairs

He was a bit out of breath,

I was the nagging wife:

“Lose a little weight,” he was

Tolerant, slapping his

Beer belly, we were still quite

Happy.

Halfway up, he paused to breathe, brought

One foot up, waited, then the other,

Hand gripped the banister.

Unable to complain, he let me pretend.

Long past what the point of

Endurance, he would not

Let me carry the tank

When he did,

I still didn’t know

A day would come when

He couldn’t walk—when

He would say, “The

Dying process

Has begun.”

The Critical Mom Posts Another Poem

 The April poetry marathon continues: here's a recent one: 

The Shoebox

It’s labeled Ankle Strap Sandal: Giraudon

Now filled with “Shoebox Greetings,”

(A Tiny Division of Hallmark)

Cards you sent me in 1991

When some shrink was saying,

Forget this man, finish grad school.

I order each one

By postal cancellation. They all

Begin with “my dear” and end

With “Love,” but

It was only sheer luck— you would say God

That the walls fell, that you came to me,

That we married, had this life,

The Shoebox Greetings, the photos,

The children, wall around me, hold

Me together now that you

Exist in memory only.

Inspired Vegetables

I'd forgotten how good baked mushrooms can be--I'd planned to toss them in olive oil, add a little balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper, and chives that did fine in our garden planter over our climate-changey non-winter. And I did mix all of the above, then noticed we had a yellow bell pepper and a couple of Roman tomatoes. Why not add those--color, flavor, vitamins. So I did--and baked them all at 220º C (about 425ºF) for a bit longer than they needed, because the chicken drumsticks on the upper shelf needed a longer incubation. But they look fine--they only need around 20 minutes, but they're fine with more too:

Notice the garlic press to the right, trying to upstage the veggies

"Feeling Blue" Berry Pie

It all starts here:

A friend in New York has COVID--mild, she says, and I lie awake hoping she has an oxymeter--which you can get online for less than 35 euros, and which, if you have any symptoms, you should have. Tells you how your lungs are doing before you suspect things are going south. Which I hope they aren't, as I mix and roll out the dough--same recipe as yesterday's for star-studded apple pie. The round hunk above is half the dough, and you roll from the middle out, going in all directions, until you have something big enough to fit your pie plate, which should be around 9 inches wide (23 centimeters).
Berries do better with citrus than spices. So pour your 500-gram container of blueberries (around 3.5 cups) into a big bowl and add a cup of sugar--raw sugar is best, but any will do. In a pinch you could use maple syrup. Add the juice of one whole lemon and dot with a bit of RAMA (or butter):

You can see the raw sugar and a bit of the RAMA. Possibly I should have added a tablespoon or two of flour, but the sugar may caramelize more this way. As COVID spreads, as mail servers crash, as ZOOM flickers, as the bad guy gets more orange, LET THEM EAT PIE!

Finished Product

 Yeah, probably should have thrown in some flour with the berries: 

But this did taste good.

Star-Studded Apple Pie: Another Leftover Special that Turned out Great

We had a whole bowl of apples that were getting wrinkly. I told the teenagers they were perfectly fine, especially for cooking, but they didn't believe me until I made this: (the before picture)

Now here's the after--and it made a great breakfast:

The recipe's pretty close to the one in the Fanny Farmer cookbook, but I did tweak it a bit. Madame Farmer advises the cook not to mix the crust too much--if you do, you won't get all the little flubs of flour and grease that give the pie character. Or so she thinks. When the teenagers are hungry, here's what you do: Pre-heat the oven to 220º Celsius (about 425ºF). Get out the food processor and dump in the following:
Two cups of all-purpose flour plus a half teaspoon of salt. Mix with fork before you add the other ingredients which are: 2/3 (or even 3/4) cup of RAMA margarine or butter. We have vegans in my family, so I used the RAMA. Then add two or three tablespoons of chilled water--I put a half cup of cold water with ice cubes in the fridge before I started assembling the ingredients. And a bit of ice fell into the mix as I was measuring out the water. 
Process the flour mixture until it's a big doughball. Divide in two; roll out one on a floured board and put in a lightly greased pie plate. 
The apples: first, put a cup of sugar, a teaspoon of cinnamon, a half teaspoon of salt, two tablespoons of flour, and a dash of nutmeg into a bowl. Mix well. 
Peel, core and slice into the mix about six apples. You're okay with five. You can add raisins if you like. Mix well. Dump into the pie plate that's already got the crust in it. Put a few more dabs of RAMA or butter on top. Set aside. Roll out the other half of the dough, cover the apples, press down. Punch a few holes with a fork. Use any leftover bits of dough for decoration; I got out the Christmas cookie cutters and made starts. Put pie in oven. After ten minutes, turn down to 180º C. Bake for at least another thirty minutes--I usually leave in for about fifty. 
Yum!

Garlic is the Secret of Stir-Fry (and Other Tips for Cooking in Corona-Times)

If you have a wok, it should never see a meal without garlic. Red onions if you're somehow out of garlic, but how could you be? It's the very first thing I always make sure I have enough of.
Here's how I cook:  I look at what I have and type those items into Google, adding the word "recipe." But hint: I always have good ingredients. I can't imagine a kitchen without the following:

Enough garlic to sink a battleship
A hunk of fresh ginger
Red onions
Bell peppers
Tomatoes
Scallions
Bananas
Apples
Berries
Olive oil
Plant oil
Coconut milk
Peanut butter
Salt, pepper, garlic powder
"Variety" salt--you know, the kind that comes with rosemary or thyme and a few other fancy things in it. 

It's also always good to have other green veggies around: broccoli, spinach, peas. Frozen versions of these are just fine, especially now. 

The recipe pictured above was easy. I knew I had a pack of boned chicken, and figured it wasn't quite enough to satisfy the energetically hungry eighteen-year-old. But then I remembered we had a massive garlic sausage in the fridge, and I felt inspired. Assemble the following:

Wok
plant oil (rapeseed oil, sunflower oil)
Dish of chopped garlic. Lots. There's never enough.
Sliced yellow bell pepper (other colors will do. The green ones never taste as good to me)
Blanched asparagus (in other words: rinse, slice into chunks, throw in boiling water for, like, three minutes; drain).
Sliced garlic sausage
Sliced hunks of boned chicken
Garlic powder, salt, or "salt with benefits," any fancy kind. 

(On the side, of course, you've got the rice stoked away in the rice cooker.) Any rice. I like sticky rice, so I opened a pack of black glutinous rice, realizing I didn't have time to soak it for hours and steam it in the bamboo steamer. I put the rice in a bowl, poured very warm water over it, stirred and drained. I did that five times. Then into the rice cooker it went, with exactly ONE cup of cold water to the ONE cup of rice. So the rice was all taken care of by the time I put oil in the wok and threw in the garlic. Then the sliced peppers. Then the sliced sausage. Let all that sizzle. Throw the asparagus into the boiling water. After three minutes, drain it. Add the contents of the wok to the asparagus. Set aside. Throw a little more oil into the wok and let it get hot. Now, throw in the chicken pieces--which you've sprinkled with garlic powder and any kind of salt and pepper you like--and stir fry. When the chicken's almost done, which takes about three minutes, throw in the asparagus-sausage-garlic-pepper mix. Stir. Serve with rice and white wine: 

The Critical Mom Posts a Poem #1

It's the cruelest month: the tree surgeons came with their crane to remove a very old and beautiful ivy-covered conifer. Between the ivy and some romantic lichen gracing its bark, appropriate backdrop for Hansel and Gretel heading home after dispatching the witch, the poor tree was leaning forward--oh, very far forward, even farther since the last storm. Since I didn't want the thing collapsing on the house, where it might have gone through the roof, my daughter's room and the fish tank, it had to go. It's also the cruelest month because I've signed up, as I do every year, for the poetry challenge--one a day, all month long. I'm posting one of them, below: 

The Four Watering Cans of my Apocalypse

There are, really, four around the house

But they don’t come anywhere near the plants

Whose dirt stays dry as my eyes.

I water the plants when I’m crying.

Usually I’m yelling.

When I’m really hoarse,

Too tired to scream,

I get more honest, grab the handle,

Fill the can, pour some little something

Into those poor plants,

While a little something pours from my eyes.

You’re dry as dust, ashes,

Under the pink and purple pansies

In your Bavarian grave

I needed all four cans.

Slashed the dead leaves

Went for the weeds, wild beasts

Provided the water

But they’re still plagued by the woman

Who would rather cry than water them.

Beans, Beautiful Beans

I'm revising a novel while trying to figure out electronic teaching via Moodle. The teenagers, lovely people when they aren't ripping each others' heads off, are not enjoying quarantine. In other words, I didn't have time to soak the Brazilian beans. But I had three 400-gram cans of black beans, red bell peppers, red onions, garlic, scallions, fresh cilantro, salt and pepper. That's all you need. Throw a little olive oil in the pan, hack the peppers, let 'em sizzle, chop the onions, throw 'em in, garlic likewise. Lots. Around a tablespoon of cumin. Yum. Stir. The onions and garlic need time to get a little transparent before you add the drained, rinsed beans. Also a little water, maybe a cup. Doesn't hurt to add a tablespoon or so of any vinegar you can reach, red wine being best, but I used apple cider vinegar to good effect. Salt, pepper, plenty. Stir, toss in a bay leaf or two. Let boil, turn down. Cover and while it's simmering, pour yourself a glass of red wine. Sip and contemplate life. Slice the scallions, likewise, but gently, the coriander. Add, stir, cover. This is what you get:

Genuinely easy--ten or fifteen minutes.

Feel free to have some taco chips with this.

Meanwhile, you've made rice. I rinsed the leftover sticky rice and used half of that, half risotto rice, which turned out fine. Slice lime, squeeze over the plate of rice and beans. Pour yourself a little more red wine, watch the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy, feel your blood pressure sink.

Chick Pea De Luxe in Corona-Land

It's warm here--over 66 degrees Fahrenheit, and I've started, but hardly completed, the moth-proofing. I was lazy around dinner time, but did throw something together: a surprisingly delicious chick pea salad--yes, with canned chick peas.  Ten-fifteen minutes prep time:
One nicely chopped red onion
At least two cups of mini red tomatoes
A chopped yellow pepper (any color you like, actually, or substitute cucumbers)
White vinegar
The juice of one large orange
The juice of one lime
A little salt
Fresh ground pepper
Olive oil
Salt mix of your choice--or basil--whatever.

Voila (added steamed broccoli, a little cous cous, and a glass of red wine):
 

Remarkably satisfying

Chicken Delight in Corona-Land: An Easy Stir-Fry for Another Cooped-Up Day

Assemble the following:
Wok, chopping board, three bowls (two big, one small)

Ingredients: Two packs boned chicken breasts, two or three packs spinach (or any vegetable you like), fresh red onion, garlic, ginger, scallions, vegetable oil, cornstarch (not mandatory), seasonings (garlic salt is fine--you could use soy sauce after the stir-fry is done).

Wash the spinach and drain.
Heat oil in the wok--should be hot but not smoking
Chop or grate the onions, garlic, ginger--add to wok, stir, turn heat down.
Chop the chicken and put in a bowl; add around two tablespoons or cornstarch and garlic salt. Stir and set aside.
When the onions look transparent, add the spinach to the wok and turn the heat up. Stir and turn spinach for a few minutes until done but not soggy. Put in one of the bowls; set aside.
Add a drop more oil to the pan and put in the chicken. Heat can go up while you brown one side; you can also use this moment to chop scallions if none of your children are demanding things at the time.  Set the chopped scallions aside in the small bowl, stir and turn chicken, add spinach mix and turn. Add scallions, stir and turn. Done!
I paired this with red cargo rice--added a teaspoon of dark sesame oil to the rice cooker. Once the food was on my plate, sprinkled on soy sauce.
Red wine--good for the heart!
Enjoy.

My Fry-Chef Facial Ornament Fends off Corona

It's ugly as sin and, in non-pandemic times, worth less than one percent of the almost-thirteen euros I shelled out for it. It was advertised as a mask for reducing splatter when cooking. The photo, however, depicted a girl in a surgical mask, accessorized with the splatter guard.

I figured:
(1) It'll fit around my head with the attached elastic band--better than the twine-and-rubber-band arrangement I made for myself.
(2) It covers my entire face--if someone coughs on the back of my head (but I'd never let them get close enough to try) I might still be okay
(3) It's better than nothing. Even though the plastic is so grainy I couldn't tell if the potato chips I was purchasing for my vegan child passed muster.

See for yourself:

Keeps off rain--so keeps out somebody's sneeze?

I see why Amazon's not selling this one anymore. Plus, it's smaller than it looked in the ad--but desperate times call for desperate measures. Having just retrieved a roll of plastic "tarpaulin" from the package shop, I plan on making a few masks of my own. Bigger, clearer plastic, maybe even better.

P.S. In all fairness, the thing is better than I realized at first--a thin layer of additional plastic made itself known--I thought I was looking at a sticky price tag residue--and when I removed that, the thin layer of plastic came off. So the mask is now clearer. Not very thick plastic, but hey--still keeps off rain. And so, presumably, viruses.