Tag Archives: direction

Tak for Mad: Abelskiver

Right now I’m suffering from a not-enough-hands-and-too-many-pies kind of situation.

Maybe suffering is not the right word. Because I’m loving this time of life. Reveling in it.

My desk is covered in books on photography, typography and cooking, crowded by an empty bottle of gin, a glass of iced tea, an unopened wedding invitation, business cards, watercolor paints and brushes, my journal, a bendable ruler, an empty picture frame and a cast iron skillet.

My mess is glorious
and energizing.

Why can’t I just put my hands in pies for a living?

In a serious nesting fit, a couple of weeks ago, I went a-searching on Etsy for some food art to put on the walls of my kitchen. I found a few things that I thought were fun, but nothing caught my eye and said “ME. CHOOSE ME!  YOUR KITCHEN HAS BEEN UNBEARABLY EMPTY AND COLD BEFORE NOW!!!”

I posted a few of the potential pieces on Facebook, where my friend Amanda suggested (in that sort of casual, yet genius way that she has of saying significant things) that I should just make foods that I like, photograph them and frame them myself.  I just love that girl.  I immediately connected with the idea and when James and I were talking it over that night, he added the suggestion that I make foods from my family’s cookbook, photograph them and blog about it…

***DING***

WELL YEAH.  I coulda thought of that. PRObably.

With enough gin.

Several years ago, my aunt Janet compiled a WHOOOLE bunch of our family’s favorite recipes and bound them together in to a cookbook.  Our Danish ancestry is a big part of the food that we eat and how we eat it (I learned pretty early to spread my butter ALL THE WAY TO THE CRUST) and Janet titled the book “Tak for Mad” which is the Danish expression for “Thanks for the food.”

I have my own copy and while I rarely make the traditional Danish recipes like Rabarbragrot or Frikadeller, I frequently reference it for my favorite banana nut bread recipe and my Grandma Jane’s Cinnamon Rolls.

A few days after the seed for this idea was planted by Amanda and James, a birthday gift from my mom arrived in the mail that cemented the whole plan.

Good gracious, who dented my pan???

THIS, my friends is an Abelskiver pan.  And Abelskiver is THE very first recipe in Tak for Mad.

“But what is Abelskiver, Laura Jane?”

I’m so glad you asked.  Abelskiver, or Aebelskeever, or Ableskivver, or Ebelskiver or any number of variations is basically a pancake ball.  The word itself is Danish for “Apple Slices” which were sometimes put inside the pancake balls.  (Stop drooling, I see you.  Gaping mouths are unbecoming.)  These pancake balls were a part of my growing up.  We had them at family get togethers and my mom’s pan got lots of use whenever my sister and I would bring friends home from college to visit.

THIS is how you make them.

Simplicity. (Or, enkelhed, in Danish.)

If you can’t see the picture all that well (or if you just want to copy and paste the recipe) it’s

Abelskiver

1 T. sugar
1 1/2 c. flour
4 t. baking powder
2 eggs (separated)
2 T. water in egg whites
1 1/4 c. milk

Mix the dry ingredients, add beaten egg yolks and milk. Fold in the stiffly beaten egg whites.

That’s about where Norma stops giving instructions, so I’ll let you know that you can put delicious surprises in the middle, if you’d like.  Obviously, you can put apple slices inside, or jam, or custard, or heck…peanutbutter…chocolate… You could even do some savory versions with bacon or garlic and butter or cheese inside.  The possibilities are endless!  You can have abelskiver at every meal!!

*ehem*

In terms of HOW to prepare these little guys, I had the best results placing the pan on a lower setting and letting the abelskiver cook slowly.  I put a little bit of butter in the bottom of each divot and let it melt first.  Then, I poured the batter in until it was about 1/2 an inch from the top.  It took long enough that I had time to snap some shots of the anticipation in the kitchen.

I like to keep him waiting because then he makes this face.

SISTER!!!! You can still kind of see the lines on her face from sleeping on the couch. heh.

I also found that it was easier to turn them over using a kabob skewer, but you can use a fork. Or a crochet needle. Whatever tickles your ableskiver.

In a bowl. Like a boss.

Even the puppy waited her turn.

Covered in maple syrup and powdered sugar. Oh, and clumpy powdered sugar at that. How embarrassing.

They’re best served hot hot out of the pan.

And preferably with mimosas.

Next time I post a recipe from Tak for Mad, I’ll try to make something that doesn’t require a specialty pan like this.  Something you can make from home.  Like “Liver Postej,” if you’re in to that kind of thing.

So much love!

 

Ukelele on the corner

On my way home from work, I got to see something awesome.   Two kids were stopped at a crosswalk while I waited for my light to turn green.  Suddenly, joyfully, and with no audience, the guy on the left pulled out the uke and played while the guy on the right started singing.

Luckily, my phone was on hand to catch the moment.

This is how I want to be
ready with a song and a friend
when the world is telling me to wait.

A short poem about a troll named Huey

I accidentally woke up my brain troll,
Huey
.

It all started last week when I went and got
a brand new set of goals.
They were fresh and new
and I washed them clean
and I stacked them up, and arranged them in an
aesthetically pleasing manner.
They were sensible, practical goals,
sturdy and well made.  Not those
see through porcelain goals I’ve had before,
easily broken, easily left unused
because of their delicacy.

And then,
I noticed a very
tiny
crack
in one of my goals.

And that teeny tiny crack made a noise loud enough
to wake up
Huey.

He lumbered in to my brain
knocking open the cupboards with his meaty hands,
casually wearing fuzzy bunny slippers
and a daisy print bathrobe,
dropping the ashes of his morning cigar on my floor
brewing a big cup of  insecurity, indecision,
disorganization and doubt.
His favorite.

On days when Huey shows up
when he’s knocked down and broken a whole shelf
of my clean, neatly arranged expectations
all I want to do is stay inside
call in sick
ingnore the world
and say
“No,
sorry,
I can’t help you today
I’ve got a brain troll.”

It’s easy to use him as a scapegoat:
a package of ready made excuses for why I
didn’t,
or couldn’t,
or wouldn’t,
do something important.

So easy.

But this time is different, and I’m not going to sit around
while he rips funny comics out of the newspaper
before I get a chance to read them,
and while he stinks up the restroom
with his troll sweat
and other things.

I’m going to patch the crack in my goal
and make it better than it was before,
and put it on display
and go outside and play until
Huey
goes away.

Escape Plan

Like most people, I need a routine.  I need things I can depend on from day to day.  I need structure and goals to stay focused.

It took me a surprisingly long time to discover this about myself.  It took me exactly 28 years 342 days and  14 hours to realize that without structure, I naturally forget to do important things like…put on pants.  Or brush my teeth.  Or have fun.

What I had confused for so long were the words “routine” and “monotony.”  For me, a successful routine can include a 9-5 day job (read: short stretches of monotony) if it also includes weekend trips or vacations or mental breaks every few weeks.  But the key element (for me) is leaving time, money, resources and ideas for spontaneity.  (File this one under “First World Problems.”)

When I was in high school, I had an emergency escape plan.  If homework got too hard or if my parents “just didn’t understand” at the right time, I had an envelope hidden in my closet stuffed with:

an extra car key
a map highlighted with a route to California
and a wad of money.

That wad of money would have gotten me from Kansas City to about… Kansas.  But to me, that envelope was an insurance policy.  An escape pod.  I never used it, but it was there: a safety net prepared to catch me if adolescence just got to be too much.

Ten years later, I live in California, I have to work harder for my money and my insurance rates stay low if I put fewer miles on my car.  I’ve become an adult despite my best efforts.  I work for The Man, and even if my husband “just doesn’t understand” at an inopportune time, I have no good reason to to run away.  In fact, I have every reason to stay.

The past five weeks, I’ve been off work for medical leave.  At first, I thought this would be the ultimate staycation (a word I hate, but an idea I love).  But what did I do?  Instead of knocking off a few projects around the house, or reading those books I never seem to have time for, or teaching the puppy new tricks, I found myself sitting inside on gorgeous days,
staring at facebook,
forgetting to put on pants,
stuck in the rut of routine,
no, not routine.  Stuck in the rut of monotony.

With this face looking at me:

PLAY. WITH. ME. NOW.

Last Wednesday, it all got to be too much, and I needed to get out.

I *wanted* to drive to Joshua Tree.

Or Yosemite.

Or just out of Los Angeles for an afternoon.  It didn’t matter.  But when I saw that face and I realized I didn’t have enough ‘fun’ money to fill my tank and take an impromptu day trip out of the city… then naturally, that’s all I wanted to do.

Still, I needed to do something.   I pulled out an old bag and stuffed it with:

my camera
a blanket
a pillow
a bottle of water
a sweatshirt
puppy toys
a book
and some snacks.

It took me an hour and 15 minutes to get everything together,  find my shoes, charge my camera battery and put on pants.

When I left the house, I didn’t even know where I was going.  Consequentially, I didn’t get far.

I ended up going to a familiar place, with people I know:  A coffee shop I’ve been to a million times.  And to be honest, I felt defeated.

So I am resolved:  this won’t happen again. I’m hoarding away some extra cash, some day trip ideas, a blanket.  I’m keeping my camera battery charged, and my shoes by the door.  I’m going to keep an escape pod in the trunk of my car as a part of my routine: a plan to be spontaneous.

So tell me, what would you consider essential?  What would you keep in your adventure kit?

What I’ve been doing while I haven’t been writing

The next few weeks are going to be insane.  There’s so much going on and I want to tell you all about it.

But first, I want to pause and show you the fruit of some of my labors  over the PAST few weeks.

I give you: my spec poster for a (ridiculous and) awesome movie coming out next year called Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters.

I shit you not.  That’s the title.  And the description isn’t all that much more…descriptive. *ehem*  For instance, here is a brief synopsis from the Director, Tommy Wirkola:

“…it’s an action-adventure horror movie that finds Hansel and Gretel fifteen years [after their first witch incident] and they’ve grown up to become merciless witch hunters. Blood and gore and action, all the stuff that I love. (…) It’s definitely an R-rated movie, the first draft has a lot of blood and guts. First and foremost, it’s an action movie, I think, with horror elements. And of course some dark humor as well. But the action and horror are the most import feelings I want.”

So.  I guess we know it’ll have blood and horror in it.  I hope he’s a little more descriptive with a camera than he is with words.

Well, with a description that vague, I had a lot of room to play.  Here’s a nearly final version of what I put together for my class.   (With some guidance from my supertalenteddesignerfriends Ben and Cristina) D’ya like it??

Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters

I like doing homework

when it means I get to turn in funny pictures for a grade.

Someday, I’ll learn how to use Photoshop for real and it won’t look like a
digital
spraypainty
clusterf….mess. 
Someday.  For now, this is the best I could do.

The assignment was to come up with an image that conveys a certain word.  Can you guess what the word is? 

If even one person gets it, I’m giving myself an A.

Shambles

Our house is in shambles. (Wait, what is that phrase?  Is a house IN shambles, or is a house A shambles?  Its… oh, I’ll Google it later.)

This house = shambles.  Multiple shambles.  All of the shambles.

There are boxes full of film-making things just scattered everywhere.  There are enormous spider puppets lounging on my furniture, there are huge glass tubes filled with water and food coloring and the remnants of dry ice.  There are nerf guns and muddy foot prints and tripods and cameras and lights and gels and fog machines and cords.

Not to mention beer bottles and leftover lunch and bowls full of “special effects” goop and fake blood and towels that were used to clean the “special effects” up.

And there is joy

and laughter

and momentum to get these projects done.

And that’s what happens around here (and, I imagine, at your house, too) when creative things happen.

Things get messy.

And then things get cleaned up.

And it makes me so deep-down-in-my-toes-tingly-happy to help him make this happen.

Even if it means staying out of the way

and babysitting the frightened puppy

and blogging by myself.

:)