Under a Red Roof

Zippy Chocolate Cake with Cherry Sauce

March 29, 2010 in Being, Cooking + Baking, Eating, Learning, Thinking by Colleen | 3 comments

Another, equally satisfying title to this post could be Yum, or Perfection. Indeedy. Chocolate and Cherries are hard to beat. Something else that is hard to beat is sensibility. If you’ve been reading for a while, you know how I wrestle with sugar, or, at least, how I have wrestled with it. I am bad, weak, unhealthy, (insert other appropriate adjective), for eating the stuff. I spent a lot of time on it, A LOT. Many hours that, no doubt, added up to days of my life fretting about my consumption of sugar and how I really needed to let it go and be a better, stronger person. Heavens to mergatroid was it ever taxing, and to what end? Did I ever actually stop eating sugar? Not for any extended period of time. Did I ever feel better about myself for being my own persona non grata every time I consumed it? Certainly not. It was just ugly self-flagellation.

So now, in hopes of being kinder and gentler to my whole self, not just the parts that I’ve idealized, I’m going to eat it and do my darndest not to criticize or second guess myself for it. If I so desire, I’m going to bake a cake, have a slice, and REALLY enjoy it (well, if it tastes good – I do have standards). I don’t want to halfway enjoy it while simultaneously beating myself up for not being strong enough to say no or whatever. I am laughing at myself as I type this! How silly and schizophrenic I have been. Life is meant to be enjoyed.

So, to the cake. I call it zippy because it comes together very quickly and the sauce cooks while the cake bakes, so you can eat it warm from the oven. I love that – impatience and deliciousness in one go. I can’t remember where I first saw a recipe like this, maybe the Moosewood Cookbook? It is vegan, moist, and delicious. And, since this is the kind of gal I have become, I used whole wheat flour in place of some of the all purpose. If I can make it a little healthier while still being utterly yummy, I’m going for it.

Zippy Chocolate Cake

1 cup whole wheat flour

1/2 cup all purpose flour

1/3 cup cocoa powder

1/2 cup sugar (So sorry! I left this out the first time.)

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/3 cup vegetable oil

1 cup cold water or coffee

2 teaspoons vanilla

2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar

Preheat oven to 375. Grease an 8″ square pan. Sift dry ingredients together in a large bowl. Combine wet ingredients. Mix wet and dry together quickly until smooth. Pour into prepared pan. Bake 25 – 30 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. If you use the whole wheat flour, this may take longer. It’s okay.

Serve plain or with fruit sauce (raspberry, peach, blueberry, strawberry, or plum would be good, too!). I used my recipe included with pancakes, here. It is also good frosted or sprinkled with powdered sugar, and eaten out of hand.

Enjoy!

Tags: Cooking and Baking, Recipes

Cloudy Monday

March 22, 2010 in Being, Thinking, Writing by Colleen | 6 comments

When I was a teacher and a student approached me, bemoaning the fact they didn’t know how to start a particular essay, I would say, “Just begin. Write a sentence, a paragraph, the same silly word over and over again, see what happens.” I find that I am having to take my own advice today. I don’t know quite what to say. Lost..Lost. Lost..Lost. Sad. Sad. Sad..Sad. Disappointed. Disappointed. Disappointed.

And now I begin. I feel lost. I don’t know what to do about my life, and, in particular, my writing. The other day, I was in the car with the hubster; I do not even recall what the conversation was about, and he said, rather matter of factly, “You’re not writing a second book.” My stomach lurched. “I’m not?” Am I? I don’t know. I haven’t touched it in a year. I think about it every day. The characters do new and surprising things, they change their minds, increase in boldness, but I don’t write a single word of it down. Sometimes I would like to blame it on this space here and my desire to keep it going, but I really don’t know that it is true. If I really wanted to write, I’d do it. I’d stay up late (at least for this granny), like I did with my first book, bleary eyed and enthusiastic and feel the words flow from my fingertips. Then, just when I couldn’t do any more, I’d watch Craig Ferguson before retreating downstairs and cuddling with the hubster.

I feel sad that I want so much more than I have, especially when I have so very much. I want my body to look like the idealized version of it that is in my head. I want to be a famous and financially independent novelist (Reading is Sexy!) who turns her awesome book into an Oscar winning screenplay. When I win, I want to stand on stage, in the aforementioned perfect body of my imagination, wearing a stunning dress that Tom Ford designed just for me, tell the hubster he is BETTER than sliced bread and George Clooney and sing the praises of believing in your dreams.

I am disappointed that I have sent out over thirty letters to agents and publishers and only had one even remotely interested in representing me. I am disappointed that I haven’t had the heart to send out a letter since December. I am disappointed that it always seems I can see my dreams, smell them even, they are so close, yet impossibly out of reach. I am disappointed for sharing this with you. I always meant for this to be a positive and uplifting place, full of possibility and hope, but the truth is, I truly feel lost, sad, and disappointed.

Maybe there is, as appears in the photo, a silver lining. Maybe, I just need to make a clearing (I’ve heard this a lot lately) for whatever it is that I am supposed to say, be, do, or feel. Maybe, I need to be okay with not having answers, being sad, and just wondering. Maybe, just maybe…

Waterworks

March 9, 2010 in Being, Feeling by Colleen | 4 comments

My blogger friend Lori asked me what I thought of the Oscars. The answer, as seen in in this slightly outdated photo of me: friends, I cried.

First, I cried at all the excitement and hope of the people in attendance, the fans waiting for a glimpse of a star. Then of course, it was the dresses, the beautifully draped fabrics, shimmering violet, blue, red, and gold. Then it was the winners (none of them disappointments, for once) and their heartfelt speeches. I kept exclaiming, aloud to myself, “That’s so nice!” and “How sweet!” Then it was the fact that a woman won best director for the first time in history yet did not make it about that but rather the film and the infinitely brave people who place themselves in harm’s way every single day, at home and abroad. There was no shortage of tears. Thank goodness I was alone, for a guest might not have known what to do with Little Miss Waterworks. Heck, I’m a little weepy as I type this, in memory, and the fact that the sound track to Out of Africa is playing in the background, and that, like so much music, always gets to me.

In all honesty, I cry a lot, for all manner of reasons: joy, kindness, love, cruelty, injustice, fear, longing, and, sometimes, I honestly couldn’t tell you why. The tears just come. I used to be embarrassed by this fact, which was made worse by someone exclaiming, and not in a friendly way, “You cry at the drop of a hat!” But in his infinite love and understanding, and my great privilege, the hubster told me it was such a gift, to feel so openly and honestly. I just can’t help myself, nor do I want to.

I am waking up, realizing this isn’t very specific to the actual Oscars, besides the crying, so a list:

* I liked the Neil Patrick Harris opener, but not because I like numbers like this, I just like him. He’s got gusto and makes me laugh.

* Alec and Steve were a little off in the opening but came into their own. I especially liked their hotel room scene.

* I really liked the dancing to the music of the best original score nominees.

* I liked the tribute to John Hughes, felt a little confused by the horror tribute (Jaws is horror?), and very sad when I remembered everyone who died, especially Brittany Murphy.

*As I stated earlier, for the first time I can remember, I wasn’t disappointed by any of the winners, so that was nice.

Songs for Grieving

February 12, 2010 in Being, Listening, Remembering, Spotlighting by Colleen | Permalink

There’s been a lot of dying happening in the world lately, earth quake victims in Haiti, avalanche victims in Afghanistan, and on a more personal level, a dear, sweet neighbor and a kindly mother-in-law (my cousin Allie’s). When someone dies, particularly someone I have known personally, it always creates a flood of memories of other endings, not necessarily passings into the great hereafter, but of broken friendships and hearts, dreams and hopes dashed, too.

In the past, I would suffer these rushes of memory like one would an awful interloper, with little degree of kindness or patience. I do not want to feel melancholy, for it is not the desired state, happiness, always happiness! However, now, I have come to a new place about grief and memory, or any feeling really. It arises naturally and will pass, too. There is no need to fret and even a possibility of enjoyment.

Like thinking of the first person I remember dying, my Great Grandpa Briggs. He was a silent one, so much so that I scarcely have a memory of him speaking, but I do remember his mischievous smile, his cigar smoking, and the fact that he walked me to the Western Motor Lodge near his home to buy me candy. Or my Great Aunt Mary, there’s so much I remember about her: a kind voice, boundless generosity, the deepest faith I have ever known, mad crochet skills, the papery softness of her hands, and her beautiful penmanship. Though I feel a little misty thinking about the two of them, these memories are small gifts of their continued presence in my life.

With all of this in mind, I crafted a playlist, one perfectly suited for honoring my time with grief, like curiously watching a stream from on high, the ebb, flow, and rush. It is long, but not overly so, with a bit of sunshine at the end.

Nico – “These Days”

Neil Young – “The Old Laughing Lady”

My Morning Jacket – “Knot Comes Loose”

U2 – “Scarlet”

Sting – “Fragile”

Sinead O’Connor – “I am Stretched on Your Grave”

The Rolling Stones – “As Tears Go By”

Philip Aaberg – “Cinema Paradiso”

Peter Gabriel – “I Grieve”

Nina Simone – “I Loves You, Porgy”

Willie Nelson – “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain”

Feist – “The Limit to Your Love”

Eurythmics – “This City Never Sleeps”

Elvis – “Love Me Tender”

Elton John – “Goodbye”

The Dream Academy – “Life in a Northern Town”

Crosby, Stills, and Nash – “Helplessly Hoping”

The Counting Crows – “Sullivan Street”

Coldplay – “Sparks”

Bombay Dub Orchestra – “Sonata”

Bob Dylan – “Tomorrow is a Long Time”

Bjork – “Come to Me”

Bill Withers – “Ain’t No Sunshine”

The Beatles – “Blackbird”

Amy Winehouse – “Love is a Losing Game”

Tom Waits – “San Diego Serenade”

Tori Amos – “China”

Genesis – “It’s Gonna Get Better”

Shawn Colvin – “Ricochet in Time”

The Talking Heads – “This Must Be the Place”

The Who – “Love Reign O’er Me”

Nineteen

February 9, 2010 in Admiring, Being, Celebrating, Quoting, Remembering by Colleen | 2 comments

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.

Helen Keller

Nineteen years ago today, I went on my very first date with the very handsome fella pictured above. I wore a denim skirt and a cream colored blouse with silver button covers. He wore Levi’s and a rugby shirt and an incredible smile. We ate at Old Chicago and talked well into the night. I told him I believed in ghosts, and he held me tight.

I still believe in ghosts, and he still holds me tight. Thank goodness these things last…

I love you, Buddy!