In Flander's Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row...

...from Keoni

***

The Silex Coffee Maker & Turnover Toaster

Memories of early mornings during my pre-school years include an electric glass Silex coffeemaker situated near the middle of the table, close to the kitchen wall. Alongside it sat the turnover toaster. 

The coffee brewing in the Silex fascinated me then, and might even do so today. When I'd wake and come into the kitchen to sit at the table, water bubbled in the glass, bulb-shaped pot sitting in its curved, electric hot plate. On top of that sat another glass container that held the ground coffee. A filter kept the grounds from falling into the bottom part. The top container had a hollow tube reaching deep into the water heating in the pot below it. As the water reached the boiling point it rose, miraculously all by itself, up the tube into the top container where the coffee brewed. Soon the brewed coffee rushed back down into the bottom pot ready for Mom to remove the emptied top container and put the lid on the bottom, full pot of coffee.

I had a job to do that required quite a bit of concentration. Flip the bread slices in the turnover toaster.

The first side toasted, then, if you guessed right--that it was nicely browned--you quickly opened each side and the curved flanges at the base of the bread slices caused it to slide down to "turnover" the bread so that the untoasted side was now up. Then, close the toaster sides to toast the second side. Successful, guesswork timing yielded nicely toasted bread.

Mom added buttered toast (oleo) to a plate of bacon and a fried egg for me to eat. Even though I could cut the egg up for eating, I'd ask her to do it for me because when she did it each square stayed in place, just so. I've never been able to duplicate that. I liked seeing Mom's pretty presentation.

***

Food Philosophy

Toby asked me, "Do you have a food philosophy?"

"Hmmm, let me think," I replied. Where does he get these ideas? After a bit, I answered, "It's a little like years ago when I told about Plan A and Plan B when Keoni and Aidan were little kids."

"Oh, yeah, I remember you telling us about those times."

"Okay, sit back, Toby, I'll tell you my food philosophy. Here goes..."

________

I organize, but that is Plan A. An important component of A is finding the kitchen tools in their usual spots, so I stay fairly organized. 

When I'm cooking I have a Plan A. Often, it develops into a Plan B or even C. That's OK and gives me the latitude to use what feels right. And, if (ugh) Plan Z results, it might make the family dog happy. I start with a Plan A but allow flexibility and that's true for my grocery lists, budgets, shopping; any stage of cooking or serving, or even setting the table. It seems like continual re-invention while still minding the balances of the structural parts (e.g: baking a cake from scratch relies on structure and procedure a lot or it won't rise), with the feel-right parts of the moment. But isn't that true with everything?

I'm mindful of the earth, animal life, and workers our food systems exploit, and try not to make things worse. When possible, I buy locally and organic. Organic dairy especially because of the added hormones in conventional. Some GMOs are bad, some are good. I avoid hydrogenated fats since we learned they're much worse for our health than other fats. I source online information about commodities that do or don't have a bad insecticide or herbicide story.

Best of all, Toby, something happens when I sit down at a table with family, friends, and others to share a meal I've made or perhaps collaborated with, but whatever it is, it's satisfying and affirming. I treasure those meals. 

A memorable meal that actually came to take place at the farm was wishfully on my mind on March 21, 2021, when I blog posted It's Time to Begin Again as the Pandemic separateness was beginning to subside...

"One of Mark Bittman's food-world-related, email newsletters of the last few days asked us to write what we're most looking forward to now that we can cautiously, protocol-consciously come together soon for meals. I posted that I'm looking forward to this--

A family meal, a holiday, or an everyday. A daughter, her husband, and two (now OMG young men!) grandsons. There will be homegrown, homemade, or local foods on the table that will sit under the big tree near the barn. The late afternoon sun will dapple us and the chickens will slowly make their way back toward their roosts, the goats in the close-by pasture will comfortably lie in the late sun to chew cud while the mare munches grass. The cat will wind around our feet and the dogs will lie about watching the perimeters for action. Our masks will be laid aside. Our bodies will have had time for their immune response since we'll have nearly completed the vaccine doses. My hearing aids will be in place since mask bands won't interfere or flip them away. It will be grand to hear and see what is said and laugh again until tears when the conversation veers into hilarity. We'll linger and talk and eat and laugh some more. A breeze will slide by, and dusk will meld into night. We'll carry the table's remains to the kitchen--clean some, put away some. We'll sit at the kitchen table for dessert made by the grandson who explored uncounted pandemic dessert-makings. Soon music will start and we'll listen to the two young men with their viola and cello or maybe the piano. I will be enchanted just as I was before the pandemic began. I will know again that it doesn't get any better."

_______

"Toby, What made you ask about my philosophy of food?"

"Well," he said, "I've been watching YouTube cooking shows on your smart TV while you are gallivanting around without me."

I was shocked but then remembered how he had listened to the neighbor's audio coming through the loose wire in the video cam in the barn. "How do you do this now that you reside with me in senior housing?"

"When you leave the remote on the couch it's easy to watch some YouTube or catch up on the news and what's happening now."

Great heavens! I thought. Toby's watching the news?! "Say, Toby! For the record, you could go out with me but you are the one who won't wear your kitty harness and leash and won't even get into your crate I put on wheels."

"Slava Ukraini!"* he shouted and stalked out to the kitchen.

I'll never get him into a harness!

***

*Glory to Ukraine!

***