First-world hungry

first-world hungry = being hungry, but not for anything I have in my fridge

"Give me neither poverty nor riches. . .
Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you,
and say, 'Who is the Lord?'
Or I may become poor and steal,
and so dishonor the name of my God."
--Proverbs 30:8-9

David once mentioned to me that one of the signs of poverty in first-world countries is, perhaps unexpectedly, obesity.

While I don't want to get too much into social commentary here as I am not well studied on the topic, I do think it's a good launching point for the metaphor of the kind of stuff-obesity we fall prey to in our modern day first-world lives.

When we don't have enough quality in our lives, we may substitute quantity to make up for the feelings of poverty. It's easy to grab at every opportunity that comes our way when we're afraid of not getting opportunities in the future.

In an essay I wrote for my workshop group, I talked about how there was once a time not too long ago when, ironically, we couldn't afford to "declutter." 

I spent a lot of the first years of our marriage in a poverty mentality, even if it was just first-world poverty. (I'm careful here to say "I" because David is so much more above me.) I would ask David to cut the baby wipe packages in half and save pour-overs for the weekends because coffee filters cost $0.02 each.

Now that David's career is more stabilized I've felt free to let go of some things and in doing so I've had to confront a lot of my fears and the shame of having a scarcity mentality (c.f., once again, The Secret Sauce). 

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I'm wrestling with the paradox that sometimes you need enough to get more. (This could probably be its own post one day.)

You need emotional resilience in order to grow. So when you're in a place of stuckness, how do you get momentum?

***

We once laughed at a pamphlet that came with some outdoor gear Kenny had purchased. In addition to instructions regarding the gear, the author of this little manual tried to provide the user with further instructions on survival, something I guess they thought might be relevant for the person who made the purchase. "Do not wait until you are without water to begin looking for water," it read. 

We guffawed*, but how often do we actually do this in life? And, to take this further, we could also say that the "opposite" of this is good advice, too: "Do not wait until you are drowning to begin asking for help." 

(*That was for you, Molly.)

I'm not drowning any more, though I have been there. Still, I'm realizing I need yet more margin. In particular, I'm seeing the value of having enough margin that I can make mistakes. If I want to live a brave and creative life, it will involve making mistakes.

(Molly {again}, fear not, I said "margin", not "margarine".)

***

On an unrelated train of thought...

Addenda, or Other Ramblings:

1. Wealth is the feeling of using or needing less than you are bringing in. I think we all know that living hand to mouth is no good, and that the "secret" to financial wealth is to spend less than you make (or, alternately, to make way more than you spend). But how often to we apply that to life? We want to fill our every moment with getting stuff done. What we if intentionally chose to spend less time than we have been granted? (Sabbath? We've been given seven days, and by choosing to not exhaust all seven days with work, we perhaps store up life-wealth.)

2. Another nugget I'm loving from Essentialism is the idea of shaping your life by design rather than be default. Marie Kondo also talks about this when she mentions how it's easy to hold on to things we've been given (either as gifts or hand-me-downs) but that there are ways to let go of even those things, too, if you so desire. Similarly, with life opportunities, just like we should prioritize our own lives instead of letting others prioritize them for us, we should - for our own sake, and for the sake of making our greatest contribution to the world - think hard about designing our lives with intention - proactively, rather than reactively.

Less, but better

"I'm going to donate these clothes I don't wear anymore to charity 

after I drive them around in the trunk of my car for eight months." 

--@amydillon

Sunk costs are one of the hardest things for me to let go of, and what made (and makes) KonMari so hard for me. 

Kenny, Whiz At Anything And Everything He Puts His Mind To, can often be found working on a computer that seems beyond repair, or trying to invent a solution to something that's never been done before. I love when, after many hours at something, he looks up from his project to tell us, "I've worked too hard for this not to work."

Kenny is perhaps the exception to the rule of sunk costs. But for the rest of us, while determination and contentment are good virtues, sometimes we just need to let it go.

Even now, if and when I find I'm not enjoying a book, I just stop. reading. it. (Gasp.) I'm not in school anymore (except for the School of Lisa), so who cares?

In Essentialism, Greg McKeown provides a way to assess sunk costs from a different angle by having us ask, "If I did not have [fill-in-the-blank] already, how much would I pay to have it?" If the answer is zero, then you should probably get rid of it.

I think we sorely underestimate the weight of the "trivial many" (McKeown's term) that we keep in our lives. We think that these little things aren't that big of a deal, but they can add up to a larger cumulative effect, one that could even drive you insane.

But you wouldn't know it until you removed them all, ruthlessly and entirely.

This is why and how KonMari actually worked for me. When I first read the book, I didn't buy it (literally or figuratively). But many months later I picked it up and for some reason it was different. "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear."

I followed the prescription to start with clothes. I pulled out everything I had and asked myself if I loved the item (or if it "sparked joy"). Her method makes sense. When we get dressed in the morning, we don't dress "logically" - we don't wear the clothes we "think we ought to" wear, we wear the clothes that make us feel good. 

Because I'm a Questioner, I had to trick myself into the process. I didn't mentally commit to getting rid of the doesn't-spark-joy pile right away. But when I saw how happy I was with the remaining few, it was so much easier to clear away the "trivial many."

I applied this later to our silverware drawing by removing a few "blah" pieces. The simple joy of not having to dig past those anymore has increased my sanity by a seemingly disproportionate amount. 

Taking care of stuff is already hard. Taking care of stuff you dislike (or even feel neutral about) is tiresome.

Do you like your "darlings" enough to dilute that which you truly love? (I use the word "darlings" because the same thing applies to writing, which is why I've been loving how much writing is helping my brain flow. Combinatory play at work, once again.)

When I create margin in my life to have/do the things that are supremely important to me, I find that satisfaction and fulfillment so rich that I no longer care about the other things I once thought were important to me. In fact, I find how much I've actually medicated (!) with the "trivial many" because I've neglected the critical. 

I've been loving the journey I'm on because it's not decluttering for decluttering's sake, or because it's trendy to be a minimalist (that kind of thing does not appeal to a Questioner/Rebel) but because decluttering/curating my life has helped me celebrate my uniqueness, my quirks, and perhaps eventually, even my Purpose. 

07. (In)sanity

Is the intersection creativity?

Applying the Konmari method to our house has revealed many things to me about myself, but one of the things is the way in which I have settled for cheaper options to save money in the short term, using the principle of "the time value of money" as my justification. I had an "ah-ha" moment a couple of years ago when we had to buy a new dishwasher and I almost picked a $450 one vs. a $499 one, even though I hated the placement of the utensil rack in the cheaper machine. Kenny was there with us, and he asked me, "Lisa, do you want to compromise every. single. day?" Well, when you put it that way...

How do you quantify the worth of your sanity?

I came up with this thought a couple weeks ago and wrote it on the chalkboard above my desk.

But lately I've been thinking that I need to change that to "don't overvalue money or time; don't undervalue SANITY."

What do you think? Is anything I'm saying making sense to you guys? Or have I already lost my sanity??!?!

Everything I dreamed

I realize I haven't posted a recipe in quite some time. Obviously, we've still been eating. But I have to admit that cooking has somewhat slowed down what with having a baby, being fed recently by parents and in-laws, and getting a deep freezer.

But then the other day I discovered these magical (green) beans that I knew I needed to share.

When I first saw the recipe in February's Southern Living, I thought that it looked good enough to be clipped: simple, unique, and flavorful - exactly the kind of food I love to cook, and, of course, eat.



They turned out to be everything I dreamed they would be and more: crispy, salty, lemony, herby, addicting. Oddly enough, they reminded me of Chinese green beans - the kind that are fried until they are wrinkly - salty with soy sauce and slick with oil, in a good way. But these beans weren't greasy and they didn't have soy sauce; in fact, part of the appeal is that I can't quite put my finger why they taste the way they do.

Usually when I read a recipe, I imagine the taste in my mouth, adding layer by layer of flavor as I read through the steps and as each ingredient is added to the pot / pan / whatever. But this didn't taste like what I imagined it would and I still can't exactly explain how the science of this recipe makes for its outcome.

Anyway, all that to say... You should make these. They are like green bean fries. Kenny likes to pop them into his mouth and pretend he is showing off to his friends that he is eating a hot pepper, whole.

Fiery Green Beans
adapted from Southern Living

1 lb fresh green beans or haricot verts*
2 T olive oil
2 T fresh lemon juice
1 T chopped parsley
1 T chopped cilantro
1 green onion, sliced thinly
1 t dried crushed red pepper
kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper

Preheat oven to 375. Arrange green beans on single layer on a foil-lined baking sheet (I used my Silpat). Drizzle with olive oil; toss. Bake 10 minutes.

While beans are in the oven, mix together lemon juice with herbs and crushed pepper.

After 10 minutes of baking, increase oven temperature to broil, and raise the oven rack to the highest setting. Broil for 5-7 minutes until browned in spots. (SL says they will be "crisp-tender.")

Remove the beans and combine with lemon herb mixture. Season with salt and pepper and an additional drizzle of olive oil.

We served it with salmon (baked with marinated artichokes, red peppers, lemon, tomato, and green olives).


Aaaand, randoms:

• An article and comic on the "Seattle Freeze." Kinda sad I didn't know this before we moved here. 
• Did you know you can make popcorn in the microwave in a regular brown paper lunch bag? Apparently I am at least five years behind the times because this was written in 2010. Mind blown. 
• Our deep freezer has inspired me to do a better job with fridge and freezer inventories. (Elizabeth, I'm growing up! I'm learning to embrace leftovers!) I've started to work my own template which I can share if anyone is interested, but this cute drawing was too fun not to share.
• Before I found this recipe, this is how I used to make green beans. (Woah, when did NYTimes recipes change their look? I can't say I'm a fan.)

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* Costco is a lovely place to get a 2 lb bag of haricot verts for a great price. I promise if you do this, you will make the first pound and then make the next pound the very next day. Or hour. 

Call us overachievers

I apologize for the hiatus. We've been really busy over here, having early Thanksgivings both in California and here at home in Seattle.

You could call us overachievers.

This year we experimented with having Thanksgiving dinner on Wednesday night. I once overheard a co-worker say that his family did it that way. It seemed brilliant to me - get all the hard work done on a day everyone is working anyway, and then enjoy all of Thursday off, when everyone is home from work and school.

So we tried it this year. Knowing that I would have an almost 11-month old on my hands (and under my feet), I started preparing almost a week in advance.

A new rug I couldn't resist getting to spruce up the place for the holiday. My father-in-law called it Theo's magic carpet.

So last week my friend Karen came over for dinner* and we hashed out menu plans and decorations. I told her that I'm not into the "newfangled stuff" - I love brussels sprouts (not being sarcastic), but in my opinion they do not belong on a Thanksgiving table.

We agreed on a classic menu of turkey, gravy (two boats, just being realistic here), mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, peas, and rolls.

Sketching out which serving dishes I plan to use helps ensure I'm not stressing about it at the last minute.

Karen offered to bring appetizers (spanakopita (!) and eggrolls) as well as Connie's Corn Casserole, which turned out to be the most amazing thing we had ever had. At the table, Kenny dubbed it "corn butter."

"Corn butter" on the bottom right. David generously offered for it to be placed next to him.

With everyone at work/school and a baby who doesn't nap very much anymore, I knew I needed to plan ahead as much as a could, down to the details.

David and I broke down the cleaning and set-up tasks and spread them out over the days before The Dinner. When we finished an item we got to move the post-it note to the back. (Ah!)

This was by no means the complete list.

And I didn't stop there. I also made an Excel spreadsheet. Yes, you heard that right.

I totally nerded out and it was awesome.

Planning ahead allowed me to develop shortcuts that made the day of so easy. Here are the things I would do again next year in a heartbeat, whether or not Thanksgiving was on Wednesday or Thursday or in the middle of November:

• prepare all the vegetables for the stuffing the day before. When I cooked the stuffing, it was like a cooking show as I dumped already chopped veggies into the pan. (BTW, Mom, everyone loved your stuffing recipe.)
• start the stock for gravy and stuffing in a crockpot the night before. David also set the turkey in the roasting pan and in the fridge the night before so all I had to do was pull it out.
• make the mashed potatoes a couple hours before dinner and keep them warm in a crockpot. (Karen lent me hers so I had two to work with.)

Also, next year I'm definitely asking my sister-in-law to bring dessert again. She made the most amazing pumpkin cheesecake ever!

Diana thought she made a mistake and put "too much" sugar in the crust, but we just proclaimed that PAULA DEEN MADE A MISTAKE when writing the recipe and didn't include the amount Diana used.

We had a lovely dinner with way too much laughter. I asked Kenny to serve the mashed potatoes. He kept trying to give people HUGE portions. By the end of the meal, we were calling Kenny a "potato pusher." Karen caught David "trying to go horizontal" after the meal. We ended the evening with drawing names for our gift exchange and sharing what we were thankful for. (Kenny was - you guessed it - thankful for potatoes.)

I called my parents this morning. They were on the road driving somewhere for breakfast, and because my mom and I had hosted our Thanksgiving there two weeks ago, my dad named us the two most relaxed moms on Thanksgiving day.

Karen said it best when she said that having our dinner last night was like "getting our homework done before it's even Saturday."

I'm looking forward to this day lounging with family and eating leftovers. On the menu so far is turkey pho for lunch (!!!) and turkey enchiladas for dinner (!!!!).

My mom got these cute animal placecard holders on a missions trip to Africa.

So I heartily commend to you having Thanksgiving dinner on Wednesday nights. 

Happy Thanksgiving all!

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* We had a true Dave Ramsey dinner, beans and rice and torn-in-half napkins. Actually, truth be told, Karen tore off and used the "less used" portion (her words, not mine) of a paper towel David brought back from the hospital cafeteria. I tried not to feel too embarrassed, but in actuality I have to love the shared frugality Karen and I have. 

Safely say

We really did it: a whole week of Mexican food. Caldo de pollo, carne asada tacos, lots of beans and tortillas. 

I even did a copycat of my favorite dish from a local Mexican restaurant. I'm not sure I should call it my favorite dish, because technically, I've never actually ordered it before. As I reached over to pick off of my sister-in-law's plate (on my birthday, I should add), I told my friend Coleen, "This is a dish I feel too guilty ordering, but not too guilty stealing off of someone else's plate."

Pollo ala crema

But aside from all those yummies, I was most surprised and delighted by a simple recipe from Liana Krisoff's Vegetarian for a New Generation. Her chipotle potato tacos were easy to make, full of flavor, and very satisfying (to the belly and the wallet as well).

Purple potatoes from our CSA box

It's actually very economical to eat one type of cuisine for a whole week because you don't waste ingredients. In the past we have thrown away bags of tortillas, wilted (let's be honest, rotted) cilantro (it's the worst), and other such odds and ends. But this week, nothing was for naught. Our Mexican week ended (or has it? Kenny wonders) with homemade tostadas and refried beans.

I can safely say we consumed almost 100 corn tortillas this week.

Can I blame Theo? Actually, this picture was from the summer, when Kathy made flour tortillas from scratch. The recipe is a good one.

At some point I want to tell you about the BEST SHREDDED BEEF TACOS EVER but I think that will have to be a post of its own. So for now, you'll have to be content with potato tacos. (Carbs on carbs is always a good thing.)



Chipotle Potato Tacos
adapated from Liana Krissoff's Vegetarian

I kept calling these "chorizo potato tacos" because "chipotle" and "potato" was such a tongue twister for me. But of course David laughed when I started to tell him, "I really want to make this recipe from the Vegetarian cookbook, these chorizo potato tacos..."

2 large russet potatoes, scrubbed and cut into 1 inch cubes
3 T oil
1 large onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
3/4 t ground cumin
1/2 t Mexican oregano
2-3 T minced canned chipotle peppers*
1/2 cup cilantro, chopped
sour cream, for garnish
optional garnishes: cherry tomatoes, queso fresco, limes
corn tortillas

Par-boil potato chunks: cover potatoes with cold water (I added salt) and bring to a boil. Cook for about 10-15 minutes, until just tender.

Heat up 2 T oil in a pan, then add onions and a pinch of salt. Saute until onion is nicely browned. Then add cumin, oregano, garlic, potatoes and last tablespoon of oil. Cook until they are hot and as crispy as you would like them. Finally, stir in chipotle and taste for salt.

Garnish with lots of cilantro and serve with tortillas and sour cream


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* Liana's trick to pre-mince a whole can of those chipotle peppers at once and store them in a glass jar in your fridge is brilliant. Can you imagine how delicious they would be on eggs for breakfast?

Took the plunge

Today's post isn't really about food. (Crazy, huh?)

Well, not entirely at least, because it is about something necessary for food to happen.

After two years of putting up with our nice but really annoying sink (#firstworldproblems), David finally put a stake in the ground and ordered us a new one.

You can see in the photo below how the lip is really high, so that instead of the water draining into the sink, it would run around the back. Water would drip onto the floor, and worse yet, cause the particle board under our laminate counters to bubble up. 

Of course, one day when we pay off our home we'd love to change the countertops to something solid and to something lighter in color and warmer in tone. (In a dream world I would have wood countertops and a magic fairy who would keep them clean and dry and beautiful for me when I cook and make a big mess.)

But in the meantime, we decided to do a (relatively) cheap fix that would give us a lot of satisfaction for the price. We could afford to consider doing this only because Kenny is super handy and David has learned a lot from him in the last three years. (I can't believe how time has passed!)

Believe it or not, we bought the sink on Amazon, for less than $150. With Prime, this bad boy arrived on our door step two days later.



Yup, we took the plunge and became a one-bowl family. So controversial, I know.* But we don't regret it one bit.



Even though this wasn't that expensive in the grand scheme of kitchen remodels, if you know how we live, you know that we like to run a very tight ship with finances. So for the rest of that week, we ate a lot of beans and rice.

Literally.

It's been a couple weeks now, and I still love it. At first, I was worried about it seeming like a downgrade because it's stainless and one-bowl, but now I can't imagine going back. It's amazing.

Someone has even laundered money in it. 

Literally, again. 

Are you confused by that picture? Well, let that be a cliff-hanger for a future post.

(You may now return from the edge of your seats...)

Well, that was that! First post that wasn't completely about food. Aren't you impressed?

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* Even in this authoritative article about double-bowl sinks, almost all the commenters** say they prefer their one-bowl.

** Chrome is having a spell-check issue with my usage of the word "commenters." So what are these people called?