Recipe: Rosemary Oven-fried Chicken

This is my first recipe post. Here are a few things I’m doing differently with my recipe posts compared to other online recipes:

1. I will post ingredients within the first few paragraphs immediately following the photo. No exceptions. I hate scrolling for ten minutes to see if I need to purchase an ingredient. The recipe’s story follows the actual recipe. Read it if you want to.

2. Suggestions are welcome! A recipe is a guide - not a mandate. Please tell me if you did something to make my recipe more delicious.

3. Everything seen here has been made in my imperfect kitchen at least once - so it should turn out ok in your imperfect kitchen.

Ingredients for Rosemary Oven-fried Chicken:

• 8 pieces bone-in chicken legs and/or thighs

• Quart of buttermilk

• 1 1/2 cups fine cornmeal

• 1 tea seasoned salt

• 1 tea garlic powder

• 1/4 cup fresh rosemary snipped fine

• 2 T butter or canola oil

• Oil spray

An hour before cooking, coat and soak chicken pieces in buttermilk. I use a large shallow bowl for this. Chill.

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F with the rack in the bottom third of the oven.

Put butter or oil in a roasting pan and heat it while the oven comes to temperature.

Mix together cornmeal, salt, garlic powder and rosemary.

Remove chicken from the refrigerator and coat each piece in the cornmeal/rosemary mixture.

Place chicken pieces, skin side up, in a single layer in the roasting pan.

Spray the top with oil spray.

Bake in oven for 40-45 minutes until an instant read thermometer reads 165 degrees F near the bone (but not touching it).

Remove from oven and drain on a rack before serving.

This chicken is the perfect choice for a picnic. It’s crisp enough to feel like the fried version but with a lot less oil and more flavor. Most of the oil comes from the skin of the chicken. If you want even less oil, cook this dish on a raised rack in the roasting pan and replace the butter with oil spray. You can even take off the skin before soaking in buttermilk, but doing so will lose some of the crunchy texture.

———

I discovered this recipe when visiting my (then) 88-year-old grandmother in her little house in Southwest Washington State. The minute anyone comes near Grandma, an invitation to stay for the next meal is eminent. It doesn’t matter if it’s morning, noon, or night. As a child, I didn’t appreciate Grandma’s cooking. She didn’t add a lot of salt because my grandfather had a heart condition. She didn’t use a lot of oil or butter for the same reason. There were few snacks in her house. She wasn’t the woman in an apron feeding grandchildren homemade cookies but rather encouraging us to try an unsweetened, fruit based desert. My other grandmother filled that role. Instead, this grandma cooked amazingly flavorful and healthy meals using whole grains, lean meats, and fresh greens.

This meal was no exception. After thankfully accepting the dinner invitation extended to myself and my two daughters, grandma and my Aunt Bonnie served us this chicken served with spiralized zucchini and carrots tossed in a light vinaigrette and brown rice sautéed with garlic and then steamed until tender. I couldn’t have asked for a more satisfying meal.

Enjoy!

Modern Marriage is an Oxymoron

It might sound harsh, but it’s true. Modern heterosexual marriage is an oxymoron. In fact, for a feminist, it’s a bit hypocritical because marriage is intrinsically designed by both religion and state to control women and reduce both women and children to the status of property. I don’t include non-binary or gay marriage in this post because I’m not qualified to speak on the subject, though problems with equity could most definitely still be present in those marriages.

Before I continue, I must admit that I’m married and plan to stay that way. Divorce would be costly and senseless as I plan on living with my husband till one of us dies. Does this make me a hypocrite? Probably. Did I benefit from my marriage or was it oppressive? It depends on how you look at it. I spent many years not working, but that didn’t ultimately benefit me or make me productive. It made me one of the masses of under-appreciated, unpaid caregivers in America. Not only that, but marriage and choices we made within that marriage definitely posited me as a lifelong dependent to my husband. I wouldn’t recommend that status to any of my children. It now occurs to me that it was ironic that mass amounts of money was spent to place limits on my opportunities. I married my husband because I knew I wanted him and his daughter in my household. It didn’t occur to me that I didn’t need a wedding to accomplish that feat. Instead I fell into a system that had me relinquishing control of my life in both big and small ways almost immediately, and with my full cooperation. I did this in the name of tradition.

As a wife, I was expected to put my education on hold while my husband earned a second degree. This wasn’t because my husband was an asshole. We both acknowledged that he would earn more money in the long run, just being male and in the tech field. However, if I had continued my own education, I would have been able to spend more time developing theories and ideas that I am just now becoming aware of at 40+ years of age. This stagnated my learning process, my earnings and my self-esteem. There is no guarantee that I would have gone back to school earlier, but chances were good I would have. I mourned leaving college and moving to a city without a full university.

Later, as a married woman with children, I found myself in the position many of us find ourselves in. Daycare costs would have dissolved my salary. I found that it didn’t make sense to go to my $11/hour job as a copy editor at the newspaper when daycare was $10/hour. While part of me is thankful I had the privilege of stying home with my children. I am now aware that it came at a large cost represented in ten years of lost income and potential career development. If I hadn’t been married, I wouldn’t have felt secure enough to let go of my own earning potential.

When married, people treat you differently than if you’re living with a “partner”. You’re seen as an extension of someone else, which is something men don’t expirence in the same way. I was my husband’s wife or my children’s mother but rarely recognized for my own value until I went back to school. This lack of value can change way we see ourselves. Many women start seeing themselves through the same narrow lens other people view them by. I would often complain to my husband that my brain was being filled with baby poop and crafts because that’s all anyone would talk to me about. People never ask my husband about poop or crafts. It becomes this gender divide that felt insurmountable. Even other women would ask me about poop and crafts because that was all anyone would talk to them about. There was nothing more frustrating than going to a party and the women there would only discuss their kids and husband as if they were their family’s personal press secretary.

Politically, modern marriage refuses to recognize the problematic issue of government involvement in matters of culture and religion. This certainly doesn’t benefit women. When the government gives political status to a religious or cultural ceremony, it blurs the boundary of church and state. In some instances going as far as giving men authority over women’s bodies - especially in conservative states where husbands can determine whether an infant’s life is worth more than the mother’s or when laws against a woman’s rape dissolve with the signing of a marriage license. Many doctors also require men to give permission over ending a woman’s fertility if that woman is married, yet few women are asked to approve a man’s vasectomy.

Marriage is not a modern institution, nor can it be without a cultural and political revelation recognizing the folly in politicizing human interaction by giving one adult human more status than another in any one household. But that is exactly what marriage has historically been and for most, continues to be.

To modernize marriage is to politically dissolve it.

Not My Grandmother's Gin (cause Grandma drank cheap gin)

My sister can attest that I’m on a serious gin and tonic kick. She hates gin and I spent our uncle’s birthday plying her with gin and tonics.

“Do you want a gin and tonic?” I asked her, already making one.

“You know I don’t like gin,” she said, already irritated.

“Just try it…” I wheedled.

“I’ve had gin and hate it!” (I continue squeezing limes, ignoring her clearly deranged logic).

“Here’s your drink!” I cheerfully announce, forcing the solo cup into her hand.

“Fine!” She snatches the drink, takes an angry gulp, scowls and says, “Not bad—happy?”

The answer is a resounding “YES!”

This loving exchange between sisters would not have been possible without the winter storm that knocked out the power for a week, the fact that I lived on a steep hill and couldn’t get down because of the scary ice, and a neighbor with a well stocked liquor cabinet (this post is dedicated to YOU, Leann and Zach!) While my family had a wood fireplace, oil lamps with lamp oil (important to have with the lamps), a working propane grill, and lots of food with the great outdoors serving as our refrigerator and freezer, we had neglected to keep our liquor cabinet stocked. Some may say it’s because we drink too much and can’t keep it stocked fast enough. Some may say it’s because we barely drink at all and so we forget to stop at the liquor store. We don’t need to go into detail about who is right and we know who our friends are when referring to “some people” because they probably helped create the deficit in the first place. Whatever the mystifying reason, we were suddenly declared a dry county.

So, with a happy heart we accepted the invitation to sup with the neighbors and they didn’t disappoint. In fact, every time we visit the neighbors they have consistently handed us a drink. On this dark and frozen evening they greeted us with amazing food that included homemade teriyaki pulled chicken and grilled vegetables with rice. The food was great but we’ll really remember how we were treated to snowy gin and tonics with Drumshanbo Irish gunpowder gin.

I was initially disappointed as I’m usually a Scotch kind of girl. Prior to this encounter I would have gladly joined my sister in abusing the bottle of gin. This stuff, however, was heaven! The juniper berries rang clear and muddled about with hints of gunpowder green tea and peat, all dancing a jig with a well squeezed lime. It was like I had died and gone to a tangy, slightly sweet heaven. I made “yummy, yummy noises,” as Young Dr. Frankenstein would say, and downed that drink with so many praises and compliments that our amused hosts gave me the last shot.

I have been an annoying gin pusher ever since and demand that my husband make me these drinks regularly (because a drink someone else makes tastes better - everyone knows that). This is the gin we drank to excess:

Please don’t mock my attempt at a professional photo. A potted plant is the most practical and natural place to store your gin.

“But,” my husband said…”what if we were mistaken about other gins?” I knew there was a reason I married him! While I no longer “believe” in formal marriage (I’ll blog about it someday - I promise) I do recognize the fact that I need my husband to share in my more indulgent tendencies. He also makes a good roommate and is cleaning the kitchen as I type. And we also share kids, sex, and fun stuff. I’ll keep him. No one wants to figure out who owns what records or scratched dvds anyway. The books, we know, are mine. But I digress… It was time to see if this wonder-gin was an anomaly or if we had been ignoring an entire line of delicious hard alcohol for no reason.

So we also drank this Crater Lake South Sister Gin:

Sooo professional. Fuck. Why can’t my sister take these pictures?

Which was also good but not AS good. South Sister had a really nice juniper taste but I missed the mellow tea flavor that hit mid pallet making the trip down to my belly smooth and refreshing instead of slightly bitter - if that makes sense.

In the end, there is only one thing to say about gin.

“Honey - I love you - make me a damn gin and tonic. Chop, chop!”

Sandra Cisneros and the Use of the Grotesque

“Your poem thinks it’s bad./ Because it farts in the bath./ Cracks its knuckles in class./ Grabs its balls in public/ and adjusts—one,/ then the other—/ back and forth like Slinky. No,/ more like the motion/ of a lava lamp./ You follow me?” (Cisneros 79). As a border Chicana, Cisneros finds herself fighting the virgin ideals of her Mexican heritage while, concurrently she is battling the pressure to assimilate to the dominant American culture that surrounds her and supports her work. Cisneros has spent a lifetime rebelling against these two separate dichotomies, each pulling her in separate directions—each culture dominated by men. I ascertain that she feeds her rebellion against both dichotomies through use of the grotesque in the poem “Down There” and she uses the grotesque to rebel again against new normative thinking in “Still Life with Potatoes, Pearls, Raw Meat, Rhinestones, Lard and Horse Hooves,” both poems from the book Loose Woman.  

The idea of the “good girl” is rife in nearly every culture that exists. Consider “The Wife of Noble Character[i]” from the Bible. It speaks of a woman of near mythical abilities. She rises in the dark, “works with eager hands” (Prov. 31:13), she feeds, weaves, guides, and provides. All this while remaining strong, dignified, and maintaining her reputation at the city gates. “She is worth far more than rubies” (Prov. 31:10). She is also a possession, and in many respects, a slave. This vision of the perfect woman is not unique to Christianity, but, with the spread of Christianity this ideal had circumnavigated the globe. When Cortez conquered South America this ideal was brought with them and re-established with the vision of Guadalupe—another perfect example of male defined womanhood. How can one jar lose this idea of the unobtainable perfection of these fictional women? Cisneros chooses to tear it down, without mercy, through her descriptions of penises, breasts and spit.

The poem “Down There” is a fantastic example of how the grotesque is used to break down the “good girl” stereotype. Cisneros creates a filtered male voice to describe the masculine in her poem. “Your poem thinks it’s bad” (79) she begins, merely recounting what the poem thinks rather than what Cisneros thinks. The first half of the poem is distinctly masculine. Full of testicles and swaggering, snapping bras and shaving. The poem is “the miscellany of maleness” (81) collected both before and after she empties the pockets of her male subject. “Dollars folded into complicated origami,/ stub of ticket and pencil and cigarette, and/ the crumb of the pockets/ all scattered on the Irish/ linen of the bedside table” (81). The first half of the poem provides, in graphic detail, everything a young, unmarried, Mexican woman should never have first-hand knowledge of.  With swift precision, we are quickly aware of Cisneros’s own worldliness, if her previous poems hadn’t been enough to tell us so. She is not—nor will not be—a virgin at the altar. She voluntarily frees herself of that role.

 While the first half of “Down There” is masculine the second is distinctly feminine but just as blunt. While the first half of the poem are things a good girl doesn’t know, the second half are things a good girl doesn’t speak of. “Baby, I’d like to mention/ the Tampax you pulled with your teeth/ once in a Playboy poem” (82). “Yes,/ I want to talk at length about Men-/ stration. Or my period” (82) she begins again after merging the male and female with a reference to Updike’s “Cunts”[ii] published in Playboy and separating them again to focus on the feminine taboo. Notice the split in the word “Men-/ stration. This is where the poem splits from the man. He is now merely a witness. He is someone to absorb these thoughts. “You don’t gush/ between the legs. Rather,/ it unravels itself like string/ from some deep deep center—” (83). This is a conversation Cisneros holds with a man against his wishes. She goes into great detail knowing he will “swoon” (82) and asking him to “indulge/ me if you please” (84). She describes the color, texture, and even the smell of menstruation likening it to luxury. Chocolate, wine, Persian rugs, and a cello are some of the words used to define feminine while pee, hair, gas and spit describe the masculine placing the female taboo into a position of far more worth than the male taboo. This poem plays the dual role of bringing both taboos to light while placing women in a position of greater worth and power over men. This choice, to place herself as one of greater worth, is the opposite ideal than “The Wife of Noble Character”. While both women are deemed worthy, the biblical wife is only found worthy in the eyes of others—husband, children, and elders of the city. Her life is spent in servitude to her family. The woman in Cisneros poem relishes the blood that signifies no family and indulges herself despite her lover’s discomfort in the workings of her body. She finds worth within herself. The poem gains strength from the discomfort this causes.

 Cisneros has another normative idea to separate herself from, as demonstrated in “Still Life with Potatoes, Pearls, Raw Meat, Rhinestones, Lard and Horse Hooves”. This poem is addressed “to a woman who doesn’t act like a woman/” and to a “man who doesn’t act like a man” (108). In other words—this poem is for the gender fluid, the artists and the authors. It is dedicated to her friend, Franco Mondini, an installation artist—which I will assume explains the significance of the title. While this poem does address gender, the thrust of the poem lies elsewhere—perhaps within the old adage of “flowering where you’re planted”. Cisneros shows us, in this poem, that the Eurocentric starving artist ideal is different when seen from the “pensiones by the railway station” (108). Cisneros speaks of “a narrow bed stained with semen, pee, and sorrow/ facing the wall” because “Stain and decay are romantic” as is tangoing in “a lace G-string/ stained with my first-day flow” (108). Her point is that “hunger is not romantic to the hungry” and “decay’s not beautiful to the decayed” (109). She uses the grotesque to make a clear statement that San Antonio isn’t Berlin, Venice, or Buenos Aires and to be thankful for that fact. The grotesque here is used in rebelling from an idea of Eurocentric superiority instead of outright oppression. That idea of the superiority of Europe was born of oppression—it’s not easy being gay in Texas—however the European operas lie; slowly decaying in Venice when seen through the grotesque loses it’s romance and intrigue when actually experienced. Better to be eccentric and bar hop in Texas than rot in Europe with the other starving artists.

 Both “Down There” and “Still Life with Potatoes, Pearls, Raw Meat, Rhinestones, Lard and Horse Hooves” depend on their relationship with the grotesque to illuminate, contrast and redefine previously held ideas and ideals. Cisneros is able to reorder and realign ideas. The powerful becomes less so through the wonder of menses. The European mystique is exposed to light yielding a stained mattress and hunger, running sores and “lipstick on a penis” (109). This inspected imagery begs us to re-evaluate what we think of as truth, what we see as undesirable and rediscover the blood, which is “lovely to the light to look at” (83).

Works Cited

Cisneros, Sandra. Loose Woman. New York: Vintage Books, 1995. Print.

The Holy Bible, New International Version. Grand Rapids: Zondervan House, 1984. Print.

[i][i] NIV Bible “Wife of Noble Character” Proverbs 31:10-31

10 [a]A wife of noble character who can find?/ She is worth far more than rubies.
11 Her husband has full confidence in her/ and lacks nothing of value.
12 She brings him good, not harm,/ all the days of her life.
13 She selects wool and flax/ and works with eager hands.
14 She is like the merchant ships,/ bringing her food from afar.
15 She gets up while it is still night;/ she provides food for her family
    and portions for her female servants.
16 She considers a field and buys it;/ out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
17 She sets about her work vigorously;/ her arms are strong for her tasks.
18 She sees that her trading is profitable,/ and her lamp does not go out at night.
19 In her hand she holds the distaff/ and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
20 She opens her arms to the poor/ and extends her hands to the needy.
21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household;/ for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
22 She makes coverings for her bed;/ she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
23 Her husband is respected at the city gate,/ where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
24 She makes linen garments and sells them,/ and supplies the merchants with sashes.
25 She is clothed with strength and dignity;/ she can laugh at the days to come.
26 She speaks with wisdom,/ and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
27 She watches over the affairs of her household/ and does not eat the bread of idleness.
28 Her children arise and call her blessed;/ her husband also, and he praises her:
29 “Many women do noble things,/ but you surpass them all.”
30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;/ but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
31 Honor her for all that her hands have done,/ and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

[ii] Footnoted by Cisneros: “John Updike’s ‘Cunts’ in Playboy (January 1984), 163.” I attempted to find this poem but could not access Playboy’s files without subscription.

7 Ways to Lighten Up Your Luggage

Many of us want to be that woman with six porters trailing after us with our trunks, boxes and suitcases full of expensive designer clothes while we travel throughout Europe. Many of us want to be that woman...but few can afford the hundreds of dollars in baggage fees! What’s a girl (and by “girl” I mean 40+ year old woman) to do?

Never fear – traveling light has never been easier. From bottle-less haircare to mini laundry stations, we have the know-how for your next trip abroad. Depending on climate, these tips could help you travel weeks with just one bag or pack.

1.     Pick a pack. It pays to find a backpack or suitcase that really fits your lifestyle. The large spinning bag is fun in O’Hare Airport but when you really hit those European cobblestones or find out that the elevator is broken in your backpacker’s hostel, you’ll be glad to have a moderately packed...um...pack. I pack an REI Rutsack modeled here by my daughter.

2.     Roll, baby, roll. And by this I don’t mean use a roller bag. Didn’t you read tip #1? Roll your clothes and you’ll fit more in your pack and find yourself less frustrated when looking for that matching outfit. The concept is simple. Lay out your skirt or pants. Pile all the tops that look good on top of the pants, and then roll them up together. You’ll have clothes that are wrinkle free and easy to find. Look here for more rolling inspiration.

3.     Ditch the suds! Shampoo doesn’t have to come in a bottle (honest!). Lush is well known but there are now many brands of solid shampoo and conditioner that travels better than those bottles that tend to explode under pressure. Learn from my mistake and keep the bottle of conditioner out of your luggage. It takes years to get that stuff out of your bags. Instead enjoy all the amazing beauty supplies in solid form and breeze through TSA.

4.     Teeth tabs help you avoid that breath that follows airplane food. Again, these are great for avoiding long TSA delays. They look like an aspirin or tiny breath mints but, as you chew them they bubble and foam... almost like regular toothpaste! You can easily buy teeth tabs through Amazon.

Queen Elizabeth could really layer it on. They say the Tudors wore a minimum of four layers - so does the modern traveler.

5.     Layers help up lighten up. Think of yourself as an onion… or Queen Elizabeth…you have many layers! Pack outfits that start with a short sleeve top and end with a jacket or sweater that works with other outfits in your pack. Be appropriate for the climate and season. People from a cooler climate don’t need a heavy jacket in Thailand, and Italy can be quite warm in June. Layer light scarves, flowy blouses, and maybe a light cardigan on trips where cold isn’t an issue.

6.     Carry on if you possibly can. I chaperoned a group of about twenty high school kids on a trip to Italy and Greece. We had to switch planes quickly in Amsterdam and absolutely everyone who checked a bag lost it between Amsterdam and Rome. It took five days for those bags to catch up with us and then they disappeared again between Rome and Athens. I warned them to carry on, but would they listen? No. Needless to say, they all had bag envy as I and the few other savvy travelers were able to change into clean clothes.  

7.     Itty bitty teeny weenie laundry machine (OK, hand washing isn’t a machine but with fine French milled SOLID laundry soap and the cutest clothesline ever, you won’t miss the washer and dryer). My little laundry kit holds the basics for clean underwear of for getting out that wine stain. A six-foot cord is perfect for hanging clothes to dry from mini binder clips and the sealable container, found at the dollar store, holds everything perfectly. I created a first aid kit, as well.

A little bit of planning and repressing the impulse to pack every stitch of clothing we own can help facilitate a smooth trip without the needed for all those porters...or even a luggage cart! Enjoy the lighter side of international travel!