07 January 2008

Philosophy and Bread

Alas, not only a Monday, but Christmastime is now officially over, which always makes me feel a little sad. I guess due to events in my life, I tend to wonder as I put things away if everyone who means something to me will be around for the next Christmas. I don't get morbid about it, I just realize that a year can seem like a lifetime, or a minute, and it makes me feel thoughtful.

Anyway, now that I've gotten all philosophical on you, let me show you one of the things I did this weekend:

Garlic Potato Bread

I saw the recipe for this bread here, and it really stuck in my brain. Possibly because the words "garlic," "potato," and "bread" in one sentence are like a nirvana of language for me. I did change a few things, like adding a cup of whole wheat flour, and kneading it for about 10 minutes. My dough also needed more water than the recipe states, but who knows if that would always be the case. I am not a master bread baker, but I do know that it can be an inexact science, so I just figured I'd try and see what happened. As you can see, two loaves became one and a half loaves pretty quickly! (And your house smells good too! Unless of course, you don't like garlic. But then you shouldn't be making this bread anyway, Sherlock ...)

It was even declared delicious by The Tim (who is pretty close to being a master bread maker), who used it to make a grilled cheese and spinach sandwich for lunch today, and also by Sebastian, who ate two pieces when he was here yesterday. I have therefore deemed it a successful recipe, and will make it again sometime.

Speaking of Sebastian, yesterday we had our Christmas celebration with him and his mom, Karen. They showed us pictures of their trip to Oaxaca, and brought us very nice gifts ... which I assumed were our Christmas gifts, but we got one of those also! I will try to take some pictures to post, since seeing everything would make my descriptions of them make more sense. Seb also brought us a print he had made with his father in his studio, which was really amazing. We received number 1 out of 4 of the prints made. Seb has decided that he really enjoys printmaking, so he's hoping to get supplies to continue here at home.

*******

One of the blogs I regularly read is Romi's, and she has what she calls "Monday's Musing." It's usually a quote, or something that she has experienced recently that has made her stop and think. Today's (though it's dated January 6) really struck me. As I read it, I kept thinking what it must be like to write something that you want someone else to read after you are dead, and how the person who wrote this managed to write what seemed like a conversation with friends. Maybe because it's the eve of the New Hampshire primary, I was especially struck by the whole thing. I don't claim to have any of the answers, but I do know that most of us tend to forget that every single person involved in the war in Iraq, on all sides of things, is special to at least one other person in the world. It doesn't hurt to be reminded that every soldier, every citizen - even every insurgent - is a person.

I just hope that the presidential candidates have someone to remind them of that fact. All of the time.

6 comments:

MrPuffy said...

Ah. Our legacy - a somber topic indeed. Unless you are like my mother who manages to work her demise and implications thereof into every conversation. Bread looks yummy. I made dinner rolls on Saturday - to die for.

Liz K. said...

My father died very suddenly three weeks after Christmas four years ago. I felt in the deepest grief so comforted by having just shared a really wonderful, but uneventfully so, holiday together as a family. I felt relieved to know that everything was OK when he left us, and that our last moments all together were really joyful, in a normal, unremarkable sort of way.

Carrie K said...

While I got stuck on the bread....yum, bread.

And Amen to everyone involved in keeping our boys over anywhere that they are indeed, our boys.

LadyLungDoc said...

Wow.

knitseashore said...

Sometimes it's the most ordinary moments that are the sweetest with the loved ones we miss. It's true for my grandfather, whom I lost about 4 years ago.

I'm sad to see the holidays go as they really sped by this year. But it also means spring is coming, which seems very hopeful. I'm so ready for that. And warmer weather. :)

Maureen said...

I feel the same as you when I pack up the Christmas decorations. What will be the state of things for all of us when the boxes are opened again next year?

I linked to Romi's post but have not yet gone beyond to the young soldier's. What strength and courage to be where he was and to do what he did. My heart goes out to his family.