Tree Canyon

 

Playing around with baking bread

I have started to bake bread, mostly looking for an easy way to incorporate this new habit I 'm trying to establish into my already way-too-busy life. I really like the slow cooker bread recipe located here. However, the 3 hour baking period isn't always the most practical for me. I am going to test out a loaf that stays on warm for five hours and tell you how it goes!

My next attempt will be at following the instructions of the Five Minute Artesan Bread, by by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoe Francois . Mother Earth News provides an their master recipe online here, but you should really check out the whole book. It's worth it.





I'm interested in flatbreads and really like the ease of making chappatti's.

The recipe I like is this:

2 cups atta flour or whole wheat sifted flour

1 tsp salt

1cup warm water (Or more as needed)

Mix the flour and the salt. Make a well in the mixture and pour in the warm water. Mix. Turn out and knead for 8-10 minutes. Cover with plastic wrap or waxed paper and let stand for 30 minutes or up to 2 hours.

Divide equally into 8 pieces which you then roll, and flatten into 8 inch rounds.

Heat your skillet (I use cast iron) to medium high. Place piece into skillet for ten seconds, then flip over. Cook on this second side until there are small bubbles (approximately one minute). Turn back to the first side for about a minute. It should start to balloon. Apply pressure evenly with a clean potholder when the ballooning starts so that the pocket of air forms evenly. This is sort of fun! If it doesn't work out even, don't worry. It will still taste good. Remove from pan, cover with cloth on plate, and start the next one!

These are yummy for sandwiches, cooked rice and veggies, hummus. So simple it is hard not to have fresh bread every day!

The Silent Depression

United for a Fair Economy has published State of the Dream 2009: The Silent Depression. There is no creativity in direct quotes but since my time is very limited today, this is the background they give in describing this report:

"While the general population has been in recession for one year, people of color have been in recession for five years. By definition, a long-term recession is a depression.

We detail additional evidence that shows the current racial economic inequity, including poverty rates, wealth and assets and economic mobility. While racial barriers did not prevent an African-American from becoming President, they continue to impede many people of color from achieving the same economic success as their white counterparts."

Check it out at: http://www.faireconomy.org/news/state_of_the_dream_2009_the_silent_depression

Overall, 24% of Blacks and 21% of Latinos are in poverty, versus 8% of whites. I hope that we do not choose to remain blind to issues of race simply because we have elected President Obama. Painful issues are still there, obviously.

"Every gun that is made........

"Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. The world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children… This is not a way of life at all, in any true sense. Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from a cross of iron."

— Former U.S. President, Dwight D. Eisenhower, in a speech on April 16, 1953

Tough week...and thank heavens for Maya Angelou

Indiana’s unemployment figures for January, released Friday, show Monroe County as having the second lowest jobless rate in the state. This comes as no surprise to those of us who work in social services. Many people are out there feeling like they are scraping their faces on the sidewalk pavement. I am hopeful that perhaps this shakedown in our economy will be what we need to reset our table correctly. One can only hope.

It has been a tough week at work. Can't say much, other than that it can be tough working in the field of domestic violence. I don't know why I'm sitting here writing when my brain is fried and I started work at 5am this morning. Strange way to relax, huh? But before I sign off here are a few interesting tidbits to ponder. They do relate to my opening sentence, albeit from an odd angle.

Tidbit 1: While millions of families are losing their homes, jobs and health care, the military budget next year will top one trillion dollars — that’s $1,000,000,000,000. I just divided that by 60,000 to get 16,666,666 jobs at $60,000 per year.

Tidbit 2: Foreclosures are now affecting almost 1 in every 8 American homeowners.

Tidbit 3: Public pensions in the US had total liabilities of $2.9 trillion as of Dec. 16, according to the Center for Retirement Research at Boston College. Their total assets are about 30 percent less than that, at $2 trillion.

Tidbit 4: This one made me sick to my stomach: The GDP (Gross Domestic Product) of the 41 Heavily Indebted Poor Countries (567 million people) is less than the wealth of the world’s 7 richest people combined.

http://www.globalissues.org/issue/2/causes-of-poverty

With stock market losses this year, public pensions in the US are now underfunded by more than $1 trillion.
This is the next bailout crisis waiting to happen.


The economy is in a free fall with no obvious brakes in place.

Beauty in the form of Maya Angelou helps to ease my heart.  My dearest friend Patricia and I went to her reading presented as part of IU's annual arts week.   The woman is so damn beautiful on a level not seen in many....her mind is like a jewel.  This makes what she has survived a reminder of the strength of the human spirit.  She spoke about being raped as a child, and how the police officers came to her home to tell her that her rapist, released after only one night in prison, had been found apparently kicked to death. She told how she was struck mute.....afraid that her voice could bring death.

I am ever so grateful that she found her voice.

Inaugural Poem

Maya Angelou
20 January 1993

A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed, Marked the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here On our planet floor, Any broad alarm of their hastening doom Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages. But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully, Come, you may stand upon my Back and face your distant destiny, But seek no haven in my shadow. I will give you no more hiding place down here. You, created only a little lower than The angels, have crouched too long in The bruising darkness, Have lain too long Face down in ignorance. Your mouths spilling words Armed for slaughter. The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me, But do not hide your face. Across the wall of the world, A River sings a beautiful song, Come rest here by my side. Each of you a bordered country, Delicate and strangely made proud, Yet thrusting perpetually under siege. Your armed struggles for profit Have left collars of waste upon My shore, currents of debris upon my breast. Yet, today I call you to my riverside, If you will study war no more. Come, Clad in peace and I will sing the songs The Creator gave to me when I and the Tree and the stone were one. Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your Brow and when you yet knew you still Knew nothing. The River sings and sings on. There is a true yearning to respond to The singing River and the wise Rock. So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew The African and Native American, the Sioux, The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh, The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher, The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher. They hear. They all hear The speaking of the Tree. Today, the first and last of every Tree Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River. Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River. Each of you, descendant of some passed On traveller, has been paid for. You, who gave me my first name, you Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of Other seekers--desperate for gain, Starving for gold. You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot ... You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare Praying for a dream. Here, root yourselves beside me. I am the Tree planted by the River, Which will not be moved. I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree I am yours--your Passages have been paid. Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need For this bright morning dawning for you. History, despite its wrenching pain, Cannot be unlived, and if faced With courage, need not be lived again. Lift up your eyes upon The day breaking for you. Give birth again To the dream. Women, children, men, Take it into the palms of your hands. Mold it into the shape of your most Private need. Sculpt it into The image of your most public self. Lift up your hearts Each new hour holds new chances For new beginnings. Do not be wedded forever To fear, yoked eternally To brutishness. The horizon leans forward, Offering you space to place new steps of change. Here, on the pulse of this fine day You may have the courage To look up and out upon me, the Rock, the River, the Tree, your country. No less to Midas than the mendicant. No less to you now than the mastodon then. Here on the pulse of this new day You may have the grace to look up and out And into your sister's eyes, into Your brother's face, your country And say simply Very simply With hope Good morning.

---