Living With Poetry | Don't Hesitate + Potato Salad with Creamy Dill Dressing

---

Living with Poetry is an occasional series where we explore how poetry infuses our everyday lives. Catch up with past features here.

---

If you ask me what I've been cooking lately, I might not be able to tell you. There was lasagna a while back, Saturday morning pancakes, and hummus slathered on pita bread. I've also been drinking a lot of almond milk and turmeric-ginger tea. The reason I can't remember my meals is because the past six weeks have been a whirlwind (the mostly good kind). (Also, more on that in an upcoming post.)

On occasion, monumental life events require our full attention. Although cooking remained constant out of sheer necessity (we have to eat, of course), I found myself relying on instinct and old favorites rather than seeking inspiration at the Sunday farmer's market or in my enormous stack of magazines. But now that the dust has settled, I'm starting to find my way back.

I'm not sure why, but I committed to posting a poem a day on Facebook and Instagram during the month of April, my busiest month on record this year, but once the idea shot into my head, I couldn't turn back. In some ways, it kept me grounded to this space, and allowed poetry to seep in for a few minutes each day, so for that I am grateful. 

Mary Oliver's poem "Don't Hesitate," resonated with me the most last month. This recent season was one filled with fear and uncertainty alongside profound gratefulness and joy. It's easy to run from the goodness, even though we want it so badly, because we're conditioned to grin and bear it, to not assume we're worthy of happiness. I tried to embrace the unsteadiness as much as I could, and poems like this one helped remind me that even in the midst of change and growth, "joy was not made to be a crumb." That might be the best line of poetry I've read in a long time.

---

Potato Salad with Creamy Dill Dressing

A recent Good Eggs order arrived with a gift of dill, and the potatoes in my yellow bowl on the counter were begging for a brightly-flavored fate. I've made Heidi's dressing with sunflower seeds before, and thought their addition here would go nicely with the lemon, sour cream, and dill. I've been warming up to dill, and the flavors here are not overpowering. If you'd like a bit more, feel free to adjust. Most of this is mere suggestion.

For the potatoes
2 to 2 1/2 pounds Yukon or red potatoes, quartered 
1/4 cup dill, chopped
Salt and freshly cracked pepper

For the dressing
1/4 cup sunflower seeds
1/4 cup dill, lightly packed
2 tablespoons sour cream
Juice of 1 lemon
Drizzle of honey
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 to 2 tablespoons warm water
1/4 teaspoon salt
Freshly cracked pepper

Bring a large pot of water to a boil and season generously with salt. Add the potatoes and cook for 12-15 minutes, or until tender when pierced with a fork; drain.

While the potatoes cook, make the dressing. Add the sunflower seeds, dill, sour cream, lemon, and honey to a food processor and pulse to combine. With the motor running, drizzle in the oil. If the dressing is too thick, add warm water a tablespoon at a time. Season with 1/4 teaspoon salt (plus more to taste), and freshly cracked pepper.

Pour the dressing over the warm potatoes and season with additional salt and pepper. Gently toss to combine, and finish with the chopped dill.

Nostalgia, Musicals, and Blood Orange Tea Cake

---

Living with Poetry is an occasional series where we explore how poetry infuses our everyday lives. Catch up with past features here.

---

Over the weekend I took some time to straighten things around the house, this time going through old papers and files. I came across a box of CDs I'd kept, most of them from high school. Artists like Lisa Loeb, Tori Amos, Dave Matthews Band, and Save Ferris, that provided a soundtrack to my teenage years. There were also several musical scores, including Guys & Dolls and Rent. (If you didn't know me back then, I grew up performing in musical theatre.)

Rent was a soundtrack that defined my generation. If you were in musical theatre in high school in the late 1990s, its popular song "Living in America" was your mantra. A string of my memories one summer involves sitting on top of a friend's car outside her parents house, blasting the Rent soundtrack and singing along at dusk.

In a fit of nostalgia, I decided to put the Rent CDs in my car for the long commute to work, and listening to it reminded me of this time of my life, in the fond memory kind of way. One of the most popular songs, "Seasons of Love," asks the poignant question, "How do you measure a year?"

Maybe because it's still resolution-season and I'm lowering my feet to the ground after hovering around during the holidays, or because I'm feeling hopeful, or because I nearly forgot the two year anniversary of this blog that occurred in January, but something about me was filled with pure nostalgia for the past, and full of questions for the present. After all, how do you measure a year? If you're abiding by the laws of Rent, it's in laughter, cups of coffee, and sunsets. Another good reminder, then, that there's really no day but today, and to at least live in the present as much as one can. 

As for poetry, music is a version of it, so a few lyrics will suffice for today. Cheers to the 525,600 minutes we have to laugh, love, live, and eat this year.

---

BLOOD ORANGE TEA CAKE

Recipe adapted from Rachel Eats 

I look forward to blood oranges every winter. They're my favorite part of citrus season, and this year I've been using them every week. I made granita, salad dressing, and now cake with them. I call this a tea cake because it's the perfect afternoon snack that would do well with a smear of honey or butter (or both!) alongside a warm mug of tea. I love it right out of the oven. While it's still warm, the cake will be tender with a slightly crunchy golden crust.

Rachel's measurements were in milliliters, and since she used a cup that's the equivalent of a 1/2 cup measure U.S., so I've adapted her measurements accordingly.

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
3/4 cups sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 cup olive oil
1/2 cup Greek yogurt
2 large eggs
Zest and juice of 2 blood oranges

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Whisk the flour, sugar, and baking powder, then pour in the oil, yogurt, and crack in the eggs. Whisk until well combined. Add the zest and blood orange juice and whisk again until well incorporated. Pour into a greased baking dish and bake for 50 minutes to 1 hour, or until a toothpick comes out clean.

Living With Poetry | Caught in the Rain + Almond Granola

---

Living with Poetry is an occasional series where we explore how poetry infuses our everyday lives. Catch up with past features here.

---

The day it took me two hours to drive to work was the same day I was caught in the rain during my lunch break. 

I knew it was a risk taking the walk when I did, but decided to chance it because the clouds weren't quite gray enough to assume rain was imminent. Also, given the morning I had, I was determined to enjoy some fresh air. 

Everyone who lives in Los Angeles knows that traffic is part of the deal. It's what we Angelinos dislike most about the city, by and large. We grumble and plan outings based on which side of town an event is being held, at which time of day, on which day of the week. You get used to it, because what the city requires of your time in traffic, it makes up for in culture, food, and sunshine.

I have a longer commute than most would consider "normal" for LA. Thirty-two miles one way from the westside to the suburbs takes me 40 minutes in the morning on good day, but occasionally there are bouts of unpredictability. A series of accidents on the 405 caused an amazing amount of backup, and I made it to work two hours later, worn out and disoriented. By the time lunch arrived, I quickly heated up my spaghetti from the night before and set out on my walk.

I usually walk down to the library about half a mile away and bring a book to enjoy when I reach my destination, but this walk was more purposeful. By the time I made it to the library and started my loop back, it began to drizzle. Not hard, and if it had stayed that way for the next 10 minutes, I would have hardly been affected, but with every step, the bushes on either side of the sidewalk began to hiss. It was the sound of raindrops hitting dried leaves and bouncing off sticks. It was loud enough for me to hear through the Dave Matthews song playing in my iPod Shuffle. I quickened my pace, but I still had at least eight minutes to go, and the rain was coming.

I thought about this quiet poem by Peter Everwine.

"Toward evening, as the light failed
and the pear tree at my window darkened,
I put down my book and stood at the open door,
the first raindrops gusting in the eaves,
a smell of wet clay in the wind."

-from "Rain" by Peter Everwine

Wet clay in the wind. That scent filled my body when I came to the signal, the last one to cross before reaching my office building. My sunglasses were covered in water, and as I reached up to wipe it away I heard someone yell. It was a kind woman rolling down her window to offer me a ride. I laughed and told her how close I was, and thanked her before rushing across the street before the signal turned. 

Then I started jogging. In my black Theory slacks and blouse and cardigan, up the road to my office. I couldn't help but laugh. I needed the rain. Needed it in my hair and on my sunglasses, not just outside my office window. I smiled thinking about the kindness of strangers, and once I tousled my hair a bit and dried off, I consoled myself with a bowl of homemade granola and a splash of my favorite almond milk.

Rain calls for granola, I think. I've been making a lot more of it this year thanks to Megan. Her master recipe in Whole-Grain Mornings is a splendid template for experimenting with your favorite flavors, and I've finally settled on mine for the time being. I use a combination of olive oil and maple syrup as she suggests, and swap the measurements for cinnamon and cardamom. It's such a satisfying thing to eat at any time of day, rain or shine.

---

Almond Granola

Adapted from Whole-Grain Mornings by Megan Gordon

3 cups rolled oats
1 cup almonds, roughly chopped
1/2 cup pumpkin seeds
1/4 cup flax seeds
1/4 cup chia seeds
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon cardamom
1/2 cup olive oil
1/2 cup maple syrup
1 teaspoon almond extract
1/2 cup raisins

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silpat. Mix the oats, almonds, seeds, salt, and spices in a large bowl. Stir to combine. Add the oil, maple syrup, and almond extract. Stir again until very well combined and the oats are well-coated.

Spread on the prepared pan and pack the granola down in an even layer using the back of a wooden spoon. Bake until light brown and fragrant, about 35 to 40 minutes. Stir every 15 to 20 minutes, and be sure to check on it at the 30 or 35 minute mark. When you take it out, the granola might not seem fully crisp, but as long as it's golden brown, it will crisp up as it cools.

Let cool completely on the pan and stir in the raisins. Store in an airtight container at room temperature.