Local Burger

The VB project took us to Lawrence, KS today to eat at the locally and nationally acclaimed "Local Burger." (Bon Appetit named Local Burger as one of its 2008 Top Eco-Friendly Restaurants and Gourmet called Local Burger one of America's Best Farm-to-Table Restaurants.) I was so glad we finally made the trek to this unparalleled restaurant. Indeed, a place with the name "local" in it is very promising. And sure enough, the emphasis on the nearest environs was made evident all around: multiple maps of Kansas on the walls, a list of supplier farms WITH mileage so you know precisely how far your food traveled.


Almost all the burgers at Local Burger are (you guessed it!) local - beef, elk, turkey, etc. The veggie burger - the "World's Best Veggie Burger" (and I think it was) - features a housemade patty with organic quinoa and is distinctly delicious. (The quinoa unfortunately isn't local, but this is the midwest, not the Andes and I'm starting to think my hunt for relatively local quinoa is a wild goose chase. But quinoa is healthy - so I'll add it to the category of exceptions like orange juice.) But if you are a vegetarian and you do prefer something more local, you can get the Tofu Filet Burger with Central Soyfoods tofu from right there in Lawrence, KS. 2 miles away according to the list. The Tofu Filet is what I ordered and it was very good indeed - the tofu was crunchy on the outside with a nutritional yeast coating. And it worked surprisingly well as a burger.

I'm impressed with the level of care and consideration that has gone into the menu - it seems like they've left no dietary preference unturned. (They're clever, too - they even have an omnivore burger, 1/2 veggie patty and 1/2 meat patty. And one of their sides is "progressive potatoes" - a.k.a. french fries.) To meet so many needs successfully with one menu is an admirable feat. The entire restaurant has a fun, relaxed atmosphere and is definitely the kind of place I'd go to frequently ... if it weren't 42 minutes away. However, I read in last month's Tastebud that "2009 is the year for a Kansas City Local Burger!" Really? Could it be true? Could I get a Local Burger that is more local to me than Lawrence? I'm keeping my fingers crossed ...

Jam Status Update

Last summer, I told a farmer at the market that I had been learning to can and I had lots of canned goods in the cabinet ready for the winter, but that I wasn't sure how long they would last. Farmer Dan replied, "Oh, we keep our canned goods for over a year and they're fine." Realizing he had misunderstood my I-don't-know-how-long-they'll-last concern, I said, "Oh, no. I mean, I don't know if I have enough canned goods to last me the winter. I'm afraid I will eat everything too soon."

We had a little laugh about that but I was right - I don't know how to gauge how much of whatever I need. Even before the new year arrived, we had already run out of Blueberry Spice Jam (of which I only had one half-pint jar to begin with). We are now half way through what Barbara Kingsolver calls "the hungry months" and won't be getting fruit at the markets any time soon. However, in my stock there is still tomato jam, which is good, and frozen peaches which are delicious, if a bit cold for winter. But otherwise, our preserved fruits have dwindled. I wish I had made a lot more jam and jam of many more varieties. I did try to save as many blueberries in the freezer as possible, in order to make a lot of jam ... it's just that I couldn't keep from eating so many of them fresh. It's so tempting to eat it all fresh, but some of it you've got to put away for later.

Note for this year: make more jam. A lot more jam.

Sunday Lunch at Mema's

Last Sunday I had lunch at my grandmother's house - something I used to do every Sunday, and now only do on those rare treats when I go back to OKC to see my family. Last weekend, Mema had a hankerin' for pecan pralines, so late Saturday night, Mom gathered up all the praline fixin's and took them to Mema's when we picked her up for church early Sunday morning. After church, while lunch was being prepared and while I was trying to set the table (forgetting where Mema keeps the table cloth - mistakenly trying to use real plates, like when I was a kid, instead of using paper plates, which they've been using for years), Mom and Minli made the first batch of pralines. They stirred constantly and watched the thermometer rise to soft ball stage.

Mom spooned the pralines onto a buttered foil sheet; they were perfect, but there were too few. So the whole process began again - this time with light brown sugar instead of dark, and with Ling at the spoon instead of Minli. They stirred constantly and watched the thermometer rise to soft ball stage. Mom spooned those pralines out onto the same buttered foil sheet. They were perfect, too.


Mema loved these pralines so much - even more than she thought she would - and she sampled several of the both batches (light and dark) even before lunch.

We eventually sat down to lunch - with the paper plates of course. I think it was Minli, age 5, who fully explained the paper plate procedure to me, reminding me that "we onwy use weal pwates when it's somebody's buhthday and we use the special wed pwate." The last time I attended Sunday lunch at Mema's regularly was before Minli was even born. Everything has changed so much. Except for the things that have stayed the same.

After lunch we lingered at the table over dessert. "Judy's Pralines" - not yet on the market, but surely marketable - were so delicious that only the strongest among us could resist just one more ... just one more. Ling and Minli facilitated a poll to determine who liked the pralines with dark brown sugar and who liked the light. (We were about half and half; Mema preferred the light.) We divvied up the left-over pralines (into pairs, one each of dark and light) so everyone could take some home, in addition to parceling out any of the enchiladas that remained. As my friend Kim says - if you don't have left overs, you didn't have enough. But we had enough.

Indeed, we had plenty of all the things you could want.

Ling eats a potato chip.

Minli poses

Self portrait in mirror with father. Also Mema has a flat screen TV now.

Mom checks the candy thermometer; Jetta and the family tree watch.

Daisy waits.

The Sights We Saw in Sarasota...

...now available on Flickr for all the world to see.

Just click here.

Jazz and Post-Structuralism on Fat Tuesday

I live down the street from the Phoenix Piano Bar, a legend of a place in this city. But I haven't been there in ages, not since long before we moved in down the street. Tuesdays are open mic night and a friend was on the schedule to sing and Sergio was going to listen. I wanted to go, too, but I'm behind in my reading for class and maybe I should just stay home ... unless I could read there ... with a beer. It is Mardi Gras after all. So I went, with my articles in tow. And, in the glow of a deceptive, fake candle adorned with beads, I read Jane Tompkins' "A Short Course in Post-Structuralism" to the tune of a lot of live jazz.

Tompkins: "...the notion of the arbitrariness of the sign, of the unmotivated relationship between concept and sound image..."
hi-hat: tssss-t-ts-tssss-t-ts-tssss-t-ts...

The Phoenix is a quintessential place, flawless in its informality, refreshingly straightforward. The neon sign in the window glows "Jazz" - not the brand name of a beer. The musicians are lodged like permanent fixtures into the stage up front, held in place behind a bar, as if in a cartoon with impossible proportions. Is that a drum set back there? And a baby grand behind the bar?

Remarkably, the Phoenix shut down for a while last year. I hated to see it dark when I drove past on my way home. (Even though I never went, I just liked knowing it was there.) I'm so glad it's open again. Tonight it was not dark at all. And I am going to go more often.

The musicians who are there play all the parts for the ones who aren't so the sound is totally full and if you were reading instead of watching you'd think the band was much, much bigger than it really is and you might be distracted long enough to watch a little of one of your favorite songs.

vocalist: ...There'll be no one unless that someone is you ... I intend to be independently blue...
Derrida: "In every exposition it would be exposed to disappearing as disappearance. It would risk appearing: disappearing."

In my next life, perhaps I'll come back as a philosopher. Or maybe a jazz singer. In the meantime, I'm just somebody who is glad she lives on 8th street.

Good times on Fat Tuesday.

KC Rep: The Arabian Nights

Mary Zimmerman is the reason we got season tickets to the KC Rep. Five years ago we happened upon free tickets to the Rep’s production of her play Metamorphoses and were so stunned. Craving more opportunities to be amazed, entertained, and edified, we signed up for season tickets and the Rep has provided pretty consistently since then. This season, when I heard that they were putting on another Zimmerman production, I was anxious to attend. And it did not disappoint.

Again presenting ancient texts with modern twists, Zimmerman’s The Arabian Nights is teeming with characters and stories. Every night, Scheherezade tells her trail of stories, captivating the King, her husband, so that he won’t kill her. Each tale within a tale within the big tale of the play itself compels everyone (the king and the audience) into the plot maze, and we hold on to the thread so that we can find our way back.

Along the way we are treated to a full spectrum of performance: drama, comedy, and improv; choreography, song, and dance; audience participation and stand-up; bawdy jokes and chilling political references. The set design – consisting simply of a full spread of carpets, low tables, and numerous luminous lamps hanging on both sides of the broken ‘fourth wall’ – lent itself to each and all of these.

If I had to choose, I might say that Metamorphoses was a slightly more memorable production. Which might be due to that giant pool they used in the middle of the set. But I don't want to have to choose, and I feel very moved by simplicity yet richness of The Arabian Nights. I feel just as moved as after that first Zimmerman production I saw. Both plays are powerfully lavish collections of tales that are timeless. Both reveal what Robert Trussel, writing for the Star, called "the sheer audacity" of Zimmerman's vision. And both left me wanting more.

Ask Me About My Houseplants (a photo essay)

July 2008 - baby arrowhead vine, baby kalanchoe, baby airplane (or spider) plant, baby devil's ivy (l to r). These were cuttings from Scott and Lauren's plants in Chicago - they gave them to us in July when we visited and we brought them home on the airplane.

Except for the airplane plant which is from Mom and Dad and brought home by car. (We didn't do so hot with the airplane plant cutting from Scott and Lauren.) I potted these last summer with compost from Green Worm and used four identical pots precisely distanced on our window sill by my resident perfectionist.

January 2009 - Much bigger now; I finally had to trim the ivy and vine - they were long enough to wrap around their pots multiple times. Sergio, my resident perfectionist, began to cringe as the vines kept going and growing all over everything.

So I cut them into pieces and put them in water.

Right away the devil's ivy got to work on its new growth.
I was worried that the arrowhead vine wasn't doing the same. Until I finally noticed it was doing this ...



and when we got back from Florida it was well on its way.

The airplane plant is well on its way, too, looking for new depths and reaching for new heights.


I think I am going to need more identical pots precisely distanced on my window sill. And I might need some more window sill, too.

Sightseeing in Sarasota

palm trees

We had all day on Valentine's Day to see the sights in Sarasota, after Chris and Mirna's wedding on Friday. At the Mote Aquarium we saw exotic fish - fish that didn't quite look like fish - fish with both eyes on one side of their body or with strange, ugly spines or with fins like manes. We hung out with sea turtles, watched the dolphins paint valentines, and peeked tentatively at the lengthly tentacles of the dead giant squid on display. When we left there we headed back over to St. Armand's Circle which was packed with people. Traffic moved slow and parking wasn't promising until by some Valentine's Day miracle we managed to squeeze our rented, plump Chevy Caliber into a spot only a block off the circle. The circle is where the Ferrari, Porsche, et. al. show was and so we spent the next little while looking at exotic cars - cars that didn't quite look like cars - cars with doors that open up instead of out, cars with engines in the back instead of the front, cars with unaccommodating shapes and unusual colors.

the sea turtles didn't seem feisty at all

features not available on our rental car

We left St. Armand's Circle and headed back over the water (so much water! so many palm trees! what a place, this strange "Florida") to get back to downtown where we grabbed a plenteous pasta lunch, with doppios for dessert, to tide us over until Valentine's Day dinner at Marina Jack where the food was good, all the women wore red, and the server was above average.

But before that delicious dinner, we did make it to the John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art (Ringling as in Ringling Bros. and as in Ringling College of Art and Design) where we had just enough time to see the miniature circus - stunning in scope for how it effectively conveys with such small figurines just how vast an endeavor the circus was in its hey day - the larger circus exhibit, with actual fixtures, trailers, and signs - and the Ca' de Zan - the "House of John" (Ringling) which is an exquisite and unique Venetian mansion which has been sitting on the waterfront, replete with gorgeousness inside and out, since 1926.

miniature circus figurine

giant sign from the non-miniature circus exhibit

a statue at Ca' d' Zan, eccentrically aged

a banyan tree and me

at the back of the Ca' d' Zan

We had a pristine day of sightseeing together - a good way to spend the 14th day of February, which also happens to be Valentine's Day.

an exotic tree at the Ringling museum

Chris & Mirna's Wedding

Our friends got married in Florida on Friday - Sergio and I were delighted not just to attend the wedding, but to be able to participate as well. Chris and Mirna asked us to officiate their ceremony for them, which we considered quite an honor.

The wedding was at a gorgeous mansion on the water front in Sarasota, the Crosley estate. The sun was shining, the weather was warm, and the place was gorgeous, both because of its own outstanding architectural merits and because of Chris and Mirna's exquisite and artistic tastes. Everything reflected the bride and groom so perfectly and underscored just how well-suited they are together. The wedding cake was a delicious creation by a friend from work and was decorated by Mirna herself whose beautiful illustrations came to life in fondant ... Chris' son Alex, who was the best man, played "Here Comes the Bride" on his guitar (and did so perfectly, I might add) while Mirna and her dad came down the aisle. Chris and Mirna's affection for each other and the importance of their loved ones was evident in the arrangement of the ceremony, in their sincere and original vows ... indeed, in the beautiful presentation of the entire evening.


These are the things that one loves to see in weddings. And one is especially glad when one can be a part of such a wedding as well.

Spicy White Bean and Collard Soup

This is a favorite recipe from my Fresh from the Vegetarian Slow Cooker cookbook; the Spicy White Bean, Sweet Potato and Collard stew. It's the soup featured on the cover of the book, and while mine never looks exactly like that one, I'm certain it tastes just as good if not better.

I used some great northern beans from an undisclosed location (I have yet find any local beans, much to my dismay). For these I tried a new bean cooking method that our friends taught us which bypasses the soaking - it's a handy thing to do when pressed for time (although, I think I still prefer beans that have been soaked). You cook the beans in boiling water for five minutes, remove from heat - drain - rinse with cold water - and then return to boiling and simmer for 30 to 45 minutes. It worked well, except my beans needed a full hour to move past al dente.

My sweet potatoes were local. They have been on stand by for a while. So patient, waiting in the wings. In fact, most everything else was local too ... I cracked open a giant quart of tomatoes (canned at the five-hour canning class I took in August). It was my first jar of tomatoes to open from that class and I was very pleased with how well they turned out. I used bell peppers frozen in a mason jar (bad idea - it was impossible to squeeze the air out when I packed them and it was impossible to remove only a few pieces to cook with. But I managed with some unseemly knife work).


I used a half portion from my zip-lock of collard greens from the big freeze in October (that would be the big indoor freeze, not an outdoor one). And in addition to broth from an undisclosed location, I used some veggie broth ice cubes and tomato juice ice cubes from the freezer (brilliant!).
I also used a bit of frozen jalapeño and - when that proved to be too mild - some dried red chilies from the farm which I added hastily towards the end. So hastily, in fact, that I got my fingers all spicy and then absent-mindedly scratched my nose and ended up with two burning red blotches on my face. Classic. FYI: the dried peppers DO retain their heat, unlike the frozen jalapeño. Apart from that mis-hap, the soup was a total success that fed me for a whole week.

Spicy White Bean and Sweet Potato Stew with Collards
from Fresh from the Vegetarian Slow Cooker
serves 4-6

1 Tbsp olive oil
1 med yellow onion, chopped
1 small red bell pepper, seeded and chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 pound sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks
1 fresh hot chile, seeded and minced
1 tps peeled and grated fresh ginger
one 14.5 ounce can diced tomatoes, with their juices (or about two cups of your own canned tomatoes and juice!)
3 cups slow-cooked or two cans cannellini beans drained and rinsed (or great northern)
1 tsp light brown sugar or a natural sweetener (like local honey)
1/2 tsp ground allspice
1/4 tsp ground cumin
2 bay leaves
3 cups vegetable stock
salt and pepper
2 cups chopped collard greens, cooked in simmering water until tender and drained

1. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onion, bell pepper, garlic. Cover, and cook until softened, about five minutes.
2. Transfer the mixture to a 4- to 6-quart slow cooker (or a pot on the stove-top). Add the sweet potatoes, chile, ginger, tomatoes, beans, brown sugar, allspice, cumin, bay leaves, and stock; season with salt and pepper, cover and cook on low for 4 to 6 hours. (OR cook on the stove-top for 30 to 40 minutes.)
3. Close to serving time, stir in the cooked collard greens. Taste to adjust the seasonings, remove the bay leaves, and serve.

City in Motion: A Modern Night at the Folly

Tonight, for the first time, I attended a modern dance performance. A friend, who was directing and performing in it, invited us to come. It was at the Folly Theater - a wonderful venue and the show was put on by City in Motion. The performances were unlike anything I’d ever seen, and yet they resonated with me.

The first one made me happy for reasons I couldn’t articulate. The second one made me sad for reasons I could explain. The third was a delightful, cartoon-like mating ritual between two members of a species that does not exist. That one was my favorite. Until the solo performance that involved a booth like a dressing room with retractable curtains - that was my other favorite. No wait: the one with eleven dancers all dressed in gray who moved together swiftly across the stage - like rain, Sergio said. That was my other favorite. No wait: the solo performance by the woman in white who stood at the very front edge of the stage and moved so slowly and deliberately. That was my other favorite. They were all so different - maybe that was my favorite thing of all.

There were things you don’t expect - pieces of cupcake flying across the stage, a blowout noisemaker featuring prominently in two performances, that booth like a dressing room. But the things you do expect were there in full force: beautiful shapes, expressive details, and impressive physical strength. Many things to be moved by. And at the end of each performance while the audience clapped and cheered, the dancers, so pliable, would bow and fold precisely in half in gratitude before vanishing from the stage.