I have (what hardly qualifies as) a confession: I never wanted to live so far north.  When one moves to the Pacific Northwest, and one has certain Bohemian tendencies and a poetic fondness for weirdos and antiques, one wants to live in Portland if possible, and Seattle if necessary, but never in the suburbs.  Never, say, in a place where the only peaceful feature (say, a walking trail around the neighborhood) is being spoiled by the construction of an impossibly massive Walmart.  Or where, say, the president of the evil Homeowners’ Association (say, the one that hates your ever-so-well-behaved dog based on the fact that certain persons would want to turn his sweetness to aggression and set him upon other dogs) turns out to live next door.

However, every once in a while, there are nice things about living where we do.  I may be developing an ulcer from the stress of just walking Winston around this neighborhood while enduring the sometimes hostile stares of neighbors and watching the earth-movers dig up wetland in favor of low prices, but occasionally I find gems, like the produce place down the road that sells a large variety of competitively-priced fruits and veg, as well as hard-to-find items like tamarind pods and coconut juice.

Or like the beach that Ben found, just ten minutes away.

When I got home on a Saturday morning after duty and my first-ever stop at the produce place to pick up strawberries for a surprise pancake breakfast I wanted to make for Ben, I found him with a haircut and a tip from his barber: there are dog-friendly public beaches all along the Puget Sound.  And he had found one, just minutes away.  Over our breakfast of fruity flapjacks and varicolored hashbrowns (made with the last of the Ballard potatoes, including the oddball purple ones) we made plans to make like explorers and head West.  After all, I would be gone out to sea for the next week, and he would be traveling to set his small-business plans in motion, and Winston would be spending part of the week in the kennel.  We had to make the two short days of brilliant February sunshine that we would have together count.

And I have to give him credit: this is one of the best ideas Ben has ever had for how to spend a weekend.  We had wanted to try to head to Vancouver on Sunday to watch some curling, but the ticket prices were prohibitively high; the beach cost only five dollars to park, and we could stay as long as it was light.  And so, we did.

One of the advantages of the Puget Sound area is that it is both wooded and watery.  We got to hike some short but lovely trails that looked like they belonged in an Olympic Peninsula temperate rainforest, but we also got to watch the water lap the rocks along the Sound and hop from log to log of stranded driftwood.  Winston had never been to the beach before and ran along excitedly taking in the new smells, sights, and sensations.

After a few hours, in mid-afternoon, we decided that we had to obey our stomachs and head out in search of food; we batted around the idea of returning that same day, but February sun is fickle and sets quickly, so we decided to come back the next day instead.

Sunday found us still attached to the plan, so we packed our picnic basket and books (Letters to a Young Poet by Rilke for me, Grace Hopper and the Invention of the Information Age by Kurt Beyer for Ben) and spent another afternoon basking in the warm, if wan, winter sunshine.  We stayed until the sun was nearly ready to set, walking along the shell-strewn beach, enjoying the sights of families out playing or sitting around fires talking.  It was another perfect Pacific Northwest day.  On some days, the sadness of suburbia is soul-crushing; but once in a while, we escape and find blissful beaches on which to rest, frolic, and dream.

A Valentine’s Day Story

Last weekend, Ben and I were stumped as to how to celebrate St. Valentine’s Day.  My gift was lost in Package Limbo, and all I had gotten for Ben were some Twilight-themed chocolates in a heart-shaped box.  Then, as so often happens, it was NPR to the rescue.

Specifically, it was Food for Thought, which was baby-themed for V Day.  One of the foods cited in this celebration of that term of endearment was a Dutch Baby, a type of pancake that can be found at the Original Pancake House.  I was intrigued, and, knowing how much Ben loves breakfast, began to set my plan in motion.

Since my gift was decidedly uncool, I decided that the rest of my gift would be to make a list of options from which Ben could choose as ways to spend our Sunday together.  (One of our biggest troubles seems to be getting out of the dinner-and-a-movie rut…also, making decisions.)  I included the Original Pancake House, the Crab Pot, P.F. Chang’s, and a variety of theatre/museum/film options.  (Okay, so this is obviously not a major step away from our normal weekend routine, but since all of them required driving to Seattle, it was a step in the correct direction.)  Stuck on the ship on Saturday duty, I emailed him the list.

He chose pancakes, and a stop by a market to get fresh seafood.

Arriving home early Sunday morning, I used the powers of Internet and found the nearest Original Pancake House.  There’s one in Ballard, in the northern part of Seattle, across the 5 from the University district.  In a flash of pure brilliance, I recalled the existence of the Ballard Farmer’s Market, and with some savvy Googling found it was five minutes from our chosen restaurant.  In a few mouse clicks, I had not only found a way to justify driving 45 minutes for pancakes but also obviated the need to drive to downtown Seattle, pay for parking, and battle the Pike Place crowds.

The Original Pancake House is everything that other pancake houses aspire to be: hip, crowded, and delicious.  I went with the Dutch Baby that had inspired the trip, while Ben chose a massive five-egg Spanish-style omelette topped in marinara sauce.  Our waitress forgot to bring our banana appetizer and so knocked the cost of our beverages off the bill.  And we were entertained by the incredibly colorful patrons (although Ben was a bit concerned that one of the hipster breakfasters had chosen to wear his plum-colored tights sans culottes).

We then make our way down to the Sunday market, held in the middle of Ballard’s impossibly chic streets full of one-off stores of boggling variety.  While hardly a blip on the map next to the gargantuan Pike Place Market, the Ballard variety is dog-friendly, totally organic/seasonal, and, in short, entirely delightful.  We were able to pick up gorgeous multi-colored potatoes, fresh cod and mussels, liver-and-peanut butter brownies (a treat for Winnie), just-cut pasta, and everything else we needed for Ben to perform feats of culinary mastery.*

Then it was a quick stop at Miro Tea for drinks for the road, and we headed back to our rental in Blandsville.  But I do believe that we will always remember with fondness our Valentine’s day in the land of hippies, hipsters, Bohemians, and poets.

More photos of our day:

*Except for tomatoes, which we could have bought dried but not fresh–that whole seasonal thing.

As you may have guessed, this is a post about dressing.

Salad dressing, that is.  (insert drumroll here)

These crabs come from the sea to be dressed in the delicious flavors of Old Bay.

You may get the impression that here at Bengfort.com we eat all Guyanese, all the time.  In fact, we have a growing collection of recipes from around the world, and we enjoy a great variety of foods.

Preliminaries out of the way, I wanted to share two recipes, one new, one old.

I came up with the first the other day when I had bought a can of crab from the grocery store.  (This can be purchased in the tuna section and is surprisingly good.)  There was a mini crabcake recipe on the inside of the can label, but I didn’t have all the ingredients called for, so I decided to serve the crab on a bed of greens instead.  Using the recipe for crabcakes as a rough guide, I came up with the following deconstructed version:

Crabcake ala Jacquelyn

a salad

Note: all measures are approximate–when I’m making something up, I do a dump-and-taste method.  Which, I guess, means all ingredients are approximate as well…

• 1 tablespoon mayonnaise
• 1 1/2 teaspoon mustard (I used a very liquid gourmet Champagne mustard)
• 1/2 teaspoon cumin seed
• 1/2 onion, chopped
• dash Worcestershire sauce
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1-2 tablespoons olive oil (enough to give the dressing a dressing consistency)
• mixed greens
• 1 small can lump crabmeat
• Old Bay seasoning

Mix together the mayo, mustard, cumin seed, onion, W-sauce, salt, and pepper; add in the oil and stir, adjusting the amount for the desired consistency.  Use this to dress the greens (this will be enough dressing for two medium/large salads–you’ll have to eyeball it).  Dish up the dressed greens and split the crabmeat between the two salads; sprinkle with Old Bay, to taste.

The second recipe is an old favorite of my Grandma Dorothy’s.  The name alone nearly put Ben off of it, so you can call it Catalina or French if you like–but to me, it will always be…

Grandma Dorothy’s Tomato Catsup Salad Dressing

• 1 cup vegetable oil
• 1/3 cup vinegar (I used white rice vinegar–any kind will do)
• 1/2 cup “catsup” (ketchup to you non-North Dakotans)
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 2 teaspoons dry mustard
  
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
• 1/2 teaspoon pepper

Blend all ingredients together.  This recipe will make a lot of dressing, but it keeps well for a few weeks.

With these two recipes at your side, not only can you dress your salads, but you can begin to discover the joys of making your own small-batch salad dressing instead of filling your fridge with giant bottles of the stuff–no more race to see whether or not it will go bad before you’re sick of same flavor on salad after salad.  Think of it as couture for your naked greens.  Enjoy!

The Changing Identity of South Asian Guyanese

During our many Christmastime conversations, the question of my graduate thesis came up.  Ben, in an urge to experiment with self-publishing and happening to know I had a fairly polished hundred pages, put this together back in 2008 and made it available via Lulu.  He designed the cover art and wrote the blurbage as well (basically, everything required to make it accessible).

Mom Bengfort, in particular, advocated for making sure that this paper was available to those interested in the topic.  If I do say so myself (and definitionally, I do), while it isn’t groundbreaking anthropology or breathtaking Shakespeare, the extensive bibliography would be very useful to any student of Guyanese anthropology, sociology, history, or literature.

In any case, if you’re here at Bengfort.com, statistically you are here for the cookbook.  So this is, in essence, a classic “But wait!  There’s more!”  Consider this your invitation to sit down with a nice spread of dahl, roti, pumpkin, and armchair anthropology.

http://www.lulu.com/content/2742903

Tonight, we have a mission.

Tonight, I must write a blog post…and thereby earn a bottle of Champagne.

The quote at the top comes from the excellent novel The Manual of Detection by Jedediah Berry, of which I have at this juncture read precisely 51%, according to the reading machine that Champagne-wielding husband of mine purchased me for the Christmas holiday.

I also highly recommend The Widow Clicquot, a biography of Veuve Clicquot, by Tilar J. Mazzeo.  A bit thin on evidence, but what she lacks in details of the woman herself, she makes up for in reams of delightful Champagne facts.  I read this one thanks to my local library.

Other recently enjoyed reads via reading machine:

The Year of the Flood, a novel by Margaret Atwood.  A companion to Oryx and Crake, a novel my copy of which I ironically lost in what I have dubbed the “Ben’s-truck-trunk-book-flooding-incident,” this is a fantastic post-apocalyptic tale by (in my opinion) one of the most astounding authors writing in English today.  I recommend not only these but the many others by her I have read–The Blind Assassin, The Edible Woman, The Robber Bride, The Handmaid’s Tale (don’t bother with the film), and her short story collection Good Bones are all excellent, and utterly engaging.

The Lacuna, by Barbara Kingsolver.  Orwellian in theme, but in ways both more subtle and more direct, she looks to the past to spin a novel of fiction from facts.  I must give props to KPLU 88.5, my local NPR affiliate, for alerting me to this novel.  (In fact, I owe that radio station for one book, one pre-ordered book, two cds and a single that I have purchased in the last month, all with great success and all, incidentally, via download.)

The Little Stranger, by Sarah Waters.  This one, a sort of neo-Gothic horror story set in postwar Britain, had me scared to stop reading–on more than one occasion, I simply read until I fell asleep, because I could only achieve calm through complete brain shutdown.  At one point, reading in bed with husband and dog, a sort of normal and banal rattling sound came from the general vicinity of the garage.  Winston, predictably, woofed–and I, unexpectedly, shrieked.  Just a little, but still, Ben has made fun of me for a week.

And finally, I will admit that the reading machine in question, Amazon’s Kindle, was probably the best gift I’ve ever received that I didn’t want.  My reading rate has gone from the odd book, here and there, to nearly grade-school levels again (when reading was my primary activity, I stayed up late under the covers every night, and leaving a book in progress felt like breaking an enchantment or waking from a deep sleep).  So, Ben, you win.

But now I’ve written a blog post, so I win too!  “The Devil’s in the details…”

Winston presents THE GLAMORIZER

Very rarely, I utilize the government-provided retail facility that provides high-end goods at tax-free prices to which I am entitled by virtue of my job. Yesterday was one of those magical days, and magical it was. Dear reader, I will tell you why.

“In less than two minutes, we will be giving away an exciting advertising product at the black-and-red giveaway counter. Please make your way toward the flashing light, near the electronics and magazine sections, to take part in this exciting giveaway offer!”

We heard those words while perusing the kitchen gadgetry and knew that we must heed the call. Making our way with appropriate urgency to said booth, we stood around, warily eyeing the others who had also decided to listen to the disembodied female voice promising free swag. Soon enough, an animated young woman made her way purposefully to the booth, climbed up, and started rattling a large box of…something. Something free. Something we would soon have in our hot little hands.

Slowly, allowing the excitement to build, she pulled out…an oddly shaped black plastic knife. No, not an oddly shaped black plastic knife–a GLAMORIZER!

“Some people like to use these to scale fish, but what they are actually for is…GARNISHING!!!” she said enthusiastically, pulling out what looked like a normal melon but what was revealed to be a melon basket full of berries. Handing out glamorizers to all the adults in the audience, she then pulled out a few more tools–a spiral cutter, a paring knife, and a twenty-page book that teaches you to turn a humble cucumber into a fearsome shark that will float in a punch bowl. Setting those things aside, with a promise to tell use about how to get the full set later (because really, why a glamorizer if you don’t also have the spiral cutter, paring knife, and book that teaches you to turn a carrot, a green pepper, and a potato into a palm tree?), she turned to the reason we were all really there.

The MASTER CUT 2.

Not available on any store shelves, the Master Cut 2 is a knife. No–it’s more than just a knife. It’s a godsend. It’s not a hacksaw, but you can use it that way (it will, after all, cut the head of a hammer–I saw it). It cuts paper-thin slices of tomato, after you cut into the head of a hammer. You can drop it down a running food disposal and the company will send you a new one if it’s damaged. It has a spearing end so you can cut your turkey and serve it all with one hand, leaving the other free to write a sonnet or mop a floor. It’s been rated the best bread knife in the world. YOU WOULD BE CRAZY NOT TO HAVE THIS KNIFE!

“It costs $29.99 and we do not apologize for that price, because it comes with an unconditional lifetime guarantee. But, I can do this…I can spend $29.99 with you and give you a second MASTER CUT 2!”

At this point, a few of the crowd left, but most of us stayed, in what I believed was hope for more no-strings-attached free stuff. The pitch continued.

“If you buy the MASTER CUT 2 today, and remember it’s not on any store shelves, not only will you get a second MASTER CUT 2, both with lifetime guarantees, I’ll also give you the full garnishing kit…”

And, it turned out, four steak knives, and a chef’s knife. It was a classic “But wait, there’s more!” pitch–it was, in fact, a live infomercial. I found out why the people in the studio audience are always nodding–the pitchperson nods at you, and it’s an instinctual reaction to nod along. I found out that you really can cut into a hammer head with a triple-tempered surgical steel blade. I found out that most of the people in the audience weren’t waiting for more free stuff–by the end of the program, I would say she achieved about 75% sales. Not bad when most of the people came based on the promise of receiving what turned out to be a plastic garnishing tool that retails for “up to $7-8.”

We were a part of the 25% who walked away with just our glamorizers to show and a tale to tell–as Ben said, “I prefer my cooking utensils classic and French.” But I unconditionally guarantee to remember that knife and the experience for a lifetime.

For Ben’s birthday, I decided to make him a special meal of the Indian food of his choice.  Armed with a few cookbooks from the library, he chose what he liked.  These were the undeniable hits of the evening.  I’ve adapted the recipes to reflect how I cooked them and any specific problems I had with the recipe have been addressed.

Pumpkin Dahl

1/3 c. torn basil leaves (1 package of fresh basil should be more than sufficient)
1 star anise
1 cup dried yellow dahl (split peas)
pinch turmeric
3 bay leaves
1 small chopped onion
water, as directed
1 peeled and chopped pumpkin (butternut squash)
1 teaspoon sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons unchrushed salt
2 tablespoons olive oil or vegetable oil
3 tablespoons butter (I used the spreadable butter that has oil mixed in)
1 1/2 teaspoons cumin seeds
1 tablespoon ginger
3 serrano chilis, cut into matchsticks (you can use other peppers as you like)

Shred the basil and set aside.  In a stockpot, combine split peas, 2 cups water, turmeric, bay leaves, onion, and star anise; bring to a boil and cook partially covered for twenty minutes.  Add the pumpkin pieces, 1 cup water, sugar and salt.  Return to boil; cook for another twenty minutes, or until the pumpkin is at your desired consistency (I left mine somewhere between mush and soft chunks; note that this did required the addition of more water during this second cooking time).  Remove from heat.  In a small frying pan over high heat, heat the oil and butter together.  When hot, add cumin seeds; when the cumin seeds are dark brown, add the ginger and hot pepper.  Reduce to low heat and continue cooking for half a minute; and the basil and cook for another thirty seconds.  This mixture is poured over the pumpkin dahl and gently spread into the mixture (you needn’t and shouldn’t mix thoroughly!).  This will make a lot; it fed Ben and I once and me two more times.  It’s good with both rice and flatbread.

Chapati

1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
salt as desired
2/3 cup warm-to-hot water

Combine the flour, oil, and salt and rub together.  Add the water, mixing to form a mass.  Knead for 10 minutes, cover, and let rest 30 minutes.  Knead a few more times, then divide evenly into two portions.  Roll each portion into a cylinder and cut each cylinder into eight pieces.  Roll each piece into a ball and then roll out flat on a floured surface (do not stack the rolled dough; it’s best if you have one person roll and have the tawa already hot and manned with a second person).  Heat the tawa (you could also use a frying pan) very hot, and turn on a second burner to high flame or, for an electric stove, place a cooling rack on top of a burner on high.  One at a time, cook the flat circles of bread, starting on the tawa (both sides, until brown spots begin to appear) and then moving it to the second burner/cooling rack (both sides), where the bread should temporarily puff up and darken a little more.  I used the cooling rack method to a degree of success I had not expected.  This is supposed to feed about four people, but Ben and I demolished the whole stack in one sitting, so plan to make a lot if you have company that likes to eat with their hands!

Talking to Ben when he was here a few weeks back, I realized that while I theoretically prefer one-off restaurants to chains for…let’s call them Bohemian reasons, I rarely eat in them since my return stateside.  Seeking to correct this, and remembering the magic of Gourmet Shish Kebab (a hole-in-the-wall with amazing Middle Eastern food in Laurel, MD), I have tried a new hole-in-the-wall two weekends in a row.

Last weekend, I finally braved Marimba.  It’s gaudy orange storefront had put me off as often as its promise of ‘Caribbean and South American Cuisine’ had tempted me.  Had there been parking in front of the library, I may not have gone in, but as it happened there wasn’t and by circling the block I ended up right in front of the restaurant.  I parked.  I walked in.

Charming, once you brave the citrus exterior.  The simple interior consisted of several small tables with various brightly-hued tablecloths, funky Southern Hemisphere music, and a friendly waiter who gave me my choice of tables (I was initially the only customer there).  They had several vegetarian appetizers, a vegetarian sandwich selection, and a vegetarian main, my beloved chile relleno, which I quickly ordered.  As I ate, I had a fantastic view of the street.  I was joined by one of my friends from work, which gave me a chance to order an appetizer (mashed and fried plantain chips, the name of which escapes me) and the flan, along with a cup of incredibly strong drip coffee.  It was completely delicious.  I can’t believe I waited literally months to try it.  In fact, the waiter asked me if it was my first time there and when I responded in the affirmative, said, “Thank you for coming in, senorita.”  So polite.

Tonight, craving Indian food, I considered returning to the Indian restaurant to the south that I have ordered from on multiple occasions, but didn’t feel like hopping on the interstate for the purpose, so I Googled ‘Indian restaurant, Everett, WA’ and discovered that just down the street from Marimba is a restaurant by the name of Curry Bistro.  While reviews were somewhat split, I decided to take the chance and hopped in the car, initially intending to grab something to go.  When I got there, I found a tiny restaurant with a total capacity of 26 people and decided to stay, ordering a pot of chai, vegetable samosas, a vegetarian Kashmiri dish, and some whole-wheat roti.  It was spendy, but no more so than other Indian restaurants in the area, and the leftovers will make one or maybe even two more meals.  Again, I had great service and delicious food.

The only bad part about giving these two places a try was realizing that I am clearly not the only one shunning independent eateries for the more predictable chains.  Never at any point was there more than one other table of clients in either restaurant.  Meanwhile, I’m sure that the chain restaurants were full, perhaps even had waits (I visited Marimba on a Saturday afternoon around 2:00 PM and Curry Bistro on a Saturday evening around 6:45 PM).  It makes me worry that fantastic places like these two and Gourmet Shish Kebab won’t be around for very long, unless the word is spread.  So I’m spreading the word.  And encouraging everyone–if you want an adventure, try an independent restaurant!  Sure, sometimes you may strike out…but isn’t it worth it for the chance to strike gold?

Gourmet Shish Kebab:   3495 Ft. Meade Road, Laurel, MD

Marimba!: 1405 Hewitt Avenue, Everett, WA

Curry Bistro: 1907 Hewitt Avenue, Everett, WA

Leaving work this morning and talking on my mobile phone, Ben and I fell into the popular discussion topic of the times: the increasingly probable demise of the real, live newspaper object.  I’ve been hearing advertisements for an NPR show concerning the fading stars of both of Seattle’s daily newspapers.  One is most likely leaving this world; the other is retreating to try its fortunes in the virtual one.

Later that morning, as I snuggled up with my Sunday New York Times (a luxury at $5 and procured, as usual, from the drive-through Starbucks), I got to thinking about the future of news.  The newspaper has been bound up with America since before there was one.  Benjamin Franklin was submitting pseudonymous stories to his brother’s newspaper before he hit puberty.  Benedict Anderson’s brilliant and off-cited Imagined Communities discusses the ways in which newspapers have helped create the concept of a nation as we know it.  He writes, “[W]e have seen that the very conception of the newspaper implies the refraction of even ‘world events’ into a specific imagined world of vernacular readers; and also how important to that imagined community is an idea of steady, solid simultaneity through time.”  Print-capitalism, and its North American engine, the newspaper, melded large populations into ‘New Yorkers,’ ‘Pennsylvanians,’ and ‘Americans.’

So what will happen when Seattle’s two newspapers no longer make their inky presence known each morning?  I predict that something like the Huffington Post–essentially a multi-authored blog set up in a newspaper format–will arise to take their place, but only if there is a need.  The real question is the question of need.  And it may turn Anderson’s formula on its head: if there is a community, there will be a need for a binding force, which may well take the form of pixels instead of print.  So is there a community?  Or is the demise of the newspaper the result, not so much of the Internet and a poor economy, but of the fate of the community in America?

To read the news today is to wobble between two competing emotions — undeniable hope and overwhelming fear. We feel certain that the promise of America remains, but unsure as to how we might contribute.

Such a time calls for us to embrace powerful ideas and turn them into realities that are an investment in the future of our country. One such idea is the U.S. Public Service Academy. The Public Service Academy would, like the military academies, focus on producing graduates dedicated to service.

Rather than preparing its students for a military career, however, the Public Service Academy would prepare students for work in health care, law enforcement, emergency management and other public service careers at all levels of government.

As a graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, I know firsthand the power such an institution has to bring together Americans of a variety of backgrounds and beliefs and give them the tools to lead with creativity and intelligence. As a Truman Scholar, I know firsthand the strength of conviction of my generation and its dedication to the ideal of public service. This is an idea whose time has come.

The academy is more than just an idea, however—bills have been introduced in both houses of Congress. Currently, there are 24 co-sponsors of the bill in the Senate and 123 in the House, drawn from both parties and excited enough to state publicly their support for a national institution dedicated to producing the next generation of civic leaders.

I urge all North Dakotans to write or call Sen. Dorgan, Sen. Conrad, and Rep. Pomeroy to encourage them to join together in support of the U.S. Public Service Academy. For more information, visit www.uspublicserviceacademy.org.