I got this from Phyllis Hoffman Celebrate, summer 2011 edition. Yum!
Pasta Salad
1 pound pasta
1 1/2 cups fresh asparagus, cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil, divided
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup pine nuts
1 1/4 cups sliced zucchini
1/4 cup chopped basil
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
1/4 cup chopped fresh chives
2 tablespoons lemon zest
3 tablespoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Cook pasta. Add asparagus to water during last 1 to 2 minutes of cooking time. Drain.
Heat 1/4 cup olive oil over medium heat. Add garlic and pine nuts. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes, or until pine nuts begin to turn slightly golden, stirring often. Add zucchini. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes, or until zucchini is soft.
In a large bowl, combine pasta, asparagus, zucchini mixture, remaining 1/4 cup olive oil, basil, parsley, chives, lemon zest, lemon juice, salt and apper, tossing gently to combine.
This is the story of Poppy the pig, who ends up in New Pork (yes, Pork) City, chasing her dreams. BIG dreams.
It’s probably not fair to Kristi Yamaguchi that I just read When I Grow Up by Al Yankovic, whose book was filled with dozens of fun, wacky and silly ideas for jobs. Poppy set her sights on 1) ballerina, 2) singer and 3) supermodel.
OK. It probably doesn’t help that I’m also reading Cinderella Ate My Daughter by Peggy Orenstein, who does a brilliant job of showing how the “princess culture” limits our children, especially our daughters. Oh well.
Poppy ends up being a great ice skater (of course) and eventually a pilot and a sky diver. Even though Poppy’s dreams seem somewhat limited, ultimately, the book has a positive message, and I can’t fault Yamaguchi for that. She has two daughters of her own.
If you have an 8-year-old like I do, you will understand the wide-open-spaces dreaming of what to be when you grow up. It changes every day, and there’s nothing better than hearing about those gigantic hopes and dreams.
Al Yankovic captures it perfectly with wonderful rhymes and great illustrations by Wes Hargis. (Yes, that Al Yankovic.)
“My walls will be filled with awards that I’ve gotten
For toast-on-a-stick and my Twinkies au gratin.
My kitchen will be the most famous in France,
So make reservations twelve years in advance!
There’s no doubt about it — I’m certain, you see —
A world-renowned chef is what I’m gonna be.”
I’ll bet you anything he grew up reading Dr. Seuss. My kids love this book!
This is for Lance, whose people are, in part, Norwegian — from what I’ve heard.
Lefse
1 large egg
2 cups kefir*
1 1/2 cups sugar
3 tablespoons hornsalt**
1 cup melted butter
flour
Makes about 15 lefse. The less flour and less preparation time used, the better. After you grill each lefse, cover with a tea towel to keep them from drying out. When done grilling, lay them out and let them cool off. Spread filling on one lefse and cover with another of a similar size. Cut in half. Eat some now; freeze the rest.
Filling
1 1/4 cups butter
1 cup sugar
cinnamon
Prim***
Mix on high speed until smooth and spreadable.
*I find kefir in the organic dairy section of my grocery store. Some people make their own, but I haven’t tried that.
**I usually buy hornsalt when I’m in Norway. Otherwise, I can get it through Ingebretsen’s in Minneapolis. It’s a raising agent that smells like ammonia, and it always reminds me of smelling salts (and, wouldn’t you know it … they’re both the same thing). Seems like a smelly thing to use for baking. But, remember, these Norwegians also soak their fish in lye.
***Prim is a spreadable brown cheese. I’ve always gotten it in Norway, but I bet I could check with Ingebretsen’s or Willy’s Products to see if they could get it. It’s not completely necessary, but it adds a nice flavor to the filling.
I just finished reading Turn Left at the Trojan Horse: A Would-be Hero’s American Odyssey by Brad Herzog.
I noticed this on the shelf at Bookadee. I picked it up and read the back cover one day while I was straightening shelves. I felt he had a connection to Iowa, though I’m not sure why. He wasn’t on the shelf with Iowa authors. The inside flap said he lived in California. (Ah, but lots of Iowa authors don’t live in Iowa anymore, I thought.) I figured I’d look him up later and maybe I’d read this book someday. My to-read list is about a mile long, so I figured, sure. I’ll get to it in a few years.
Well, I got to it sooner than I thought. I bought it with a few other books from Bookadee. (It’s kind of a joke that I just endorse my paycheck over to the bookstore to feed my habit.) I picked it up a couple of weeks after taking my in-laws on the tour of Winnebago Industries. That’s when I looked him up and found that he writes a travel blog, as well as books.
So I started reading Turn Left. At the very end — almost on the last page, in the acknowledgments — I finally saw his connection to Iowa in black and white. He offered his gratitude to “the fine folks at Winnebago Industries” in Forest City, Iowa.
So, no. He wasn’t born here. He hasn’t lived here. I don’t even know if he’s been to Forest City.*** But there’s the connection. Go figure.
Turn Left is a story of a person in the middle of his life, looking back, looking forward and looking inward — all the while looking outward for connection and meaning. While trying to make sense of it all, he heads out on the open road and crosses the country on the way to his college reunion.
I picked the exact right time to read this book, although I’d trade my mid-life crisis for his any day. Still, I get it. I’m about his age and (I hope) somewhere in the middle of my life.
His theme was Greek mythology, heroes and fate. He went through enough characters and stories that I thought, it’s a good thing he studied so much about this … now I don’t have to. Although I admit I feel a nagging need to read Homer now. I even put The Iliad and The Odyssey on my Goodreads to-read list. Again … I’m sure I’ll get to them in a few years.
Herzog was searching for something heroic in himself, and he found heroes all along his path — a missionary-turned-county commissioner in Athena and an adventurer-turned-one-room-schoolteacher in Troy and everyone in between.
Coincidence (fate?) abounds. (My favorite is when he met in Siren, Wisconsin, a bartender named Dawn, who’d just finished reading The Iliad.) Enough to raise my skeptic’s hackles. But he says at the end of the book, “This isn’t a work of fiction. Every single event, every quotation, every location is real and true to life.”
So I’m taking his word for it. Because I want to believe. In fact, one of the strongest beliefs I have is in the power of words and books.
This book is a great one. He tells the stories of dozens of people he met on his journey and also those from his life. I loved learning about his grandparents. He describes people and places with a sharp eye, and he weaves his current stories with history.
Herzog had me laughing out loud in places, getting chills in others and reaching for a tissue in others. I’m not sure what most people think about at a tractor pull, but Herzog might be the only one to turn philosophical, thinking of ancient Greek gods and the meaning of life.
The photographs in the book are black-and-white. I found this video after reading the book, and it brings people and places to even more life with brilliant color.
***So, if he hasn’t been to Forest City yet, I hope he finds us on his trusty atlas. I see he will be in Minnesota this week. (He will be at Magers & Quinn Booksellers, 3038 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis, MN 55408, on Tuesday, July 12, at 7:30 p.m.)
And we’re just two hours directly south of Minneapolis. There’s Winnebago, of course, and the 2011 WIT Grand National Rally starts Monday. And, hey, Bookadee is right in the heart of downtown Forest City on Clark Street.
So while reading Turn Left at the Trojan Horse by Brad Herzog — who writes about a white buffalo in North Dakota — I read about a white buffalo born (and subsequently named) in Texas. If you ever read this book (and I highly recommend that you do), you’ll understand why “weird things happen when I read” happening when reading this book is even … weirder.
