Feliz Navidad

It was indeed a Merry Christmas this year thoroughly surrounded by family. The song "Tradition!" from Fiddler on the Roof pops in my head whenever some one asks me what I'm doing for Christmas because, well, it's been the same my whole life. And I like it that way. It's funny... I've been in foreign countries for 4 out of my last 8 birthdays, but I'm reluctant to leave during the holidays.

Christmas Eve we always go to a great aunt's house for a Norwegian-influenced party. There is a delicious food spread with some traditional Norwegian dishes such as lefse, krumkake and rullepolse. Then we sing carols around the Christmas tree while holding hands in two circles. Every year I vow to review song lyrics so that we can sing intelligibly on more than just the choruses, but I suppose part of the charm of our family choral endeavor is its slightly haphazard quality. Just when our throats are getting hoarse, Santa comes! He brings all the kids one gift, which is sort of the gateway for every one else to exchange presents.

Christmas morning is at my mom's with the immediate family, the highlight being of course the little kids, my one-year-old niece and eight-year-old niece. Later we head to another aunt's house for brunch, always waffles, strawberries, whipped cream, bacon, frittata, coffee, and mimosas. There is a freshness and serenity at my aunt's that I can't quite describe, and I like the mellowness of getting together early in the day instead of for dinner. Apart from the waffles, activities are always a little different- maybe a jenga tournament, a basketball game, watching old home-videos, or playing in the snow. This year we drew each other's names from a bowl and took turns saying one nice thing about that person. It was really sweet and brought more intention to the gathering. We head home in the afternoon to finish the mellow day, such a welcome change from the frenetic pace that usually leads up to the holiday.

Eastside Roadtrip- Cold weather! Babies!

Last weekend I caught a ride with my mom, Larry, and bro Joe over to Spokane to visit some family. My brother Isaac lives there but just joined the Marines and is in boot camp, so we stayed with his wife and two kids. The little ones are two and five years old and super sweet. We had fun playing dolls, building lego towers, baking cupcakes, and watching movies. We even braved the 20 degree air and went on a carousel ride.



I also finally had the chance to visit my cousin Ally who just had a baby! She and her husband Chris live in Idaho, just outside Coeur D'Alene. Baby Beckett is already 3 months old, and I'm so happy I got to meet the little guy before he got any bigger. Their family seems to be doing great- Ally is as beautiful and well-adjusted as ever, Beckett is smiley and adorable, and Chris is stoked to be a hands-on dad and still whip up an amazing dinner- chicken breast baked in goat cheese with a basil-balsamic reduction. While the new parents put baby to bed, I enjoyed the lack of such responsibility by soaking in their hot tub, sipping wine as snow was falling around me. There was already a dusted layer on the ground, their first snow of the year.

In the morning I awoke to fresh coffee and pumpkin pancakes. Then Ally and Chris gave me a tour of Coeur D'Alene, including the beautiful but cold view of the lake from the boardwalk, and more coffee at a bustling coffee shop. I had to try the "bowl of soul", a mocha made with Mexican chocolate, copious amounts of cinnamon, and homemade whipped cream, making a convert of even this strict americano drinker.

Panza llena, Corazon contento (Full belly, Happy heart)

In this modern life of being geographically divided between friend groups and different parts of the family, it can sometimes be difficult to decide where to spend holidays. I feel like I have the trifecta perfecta "best of all worlds" by splitting my existence between Seattle, Bellingham, and the islands, but that didn't make deciding what to do on Thanksgiving any easier.

I was already in Glacier earlier in the week and passing through Bellingham before turkey day. I stayed at friends' Katie and Alan's house, and they enthusiastically invited me to stay for the feast! Part inspired by their unique dining room, part not wanting to do anymore driving, part looking to do something unexpected, and part totally adoring Katie and Alan-- all contributed to me deciding to stay.

They have a side building off the house, affectionately called the Shed, that they have been fixing up over the past year. It serves as a rec room/guest room of sorts, and this year was christened dining room as they hosted 15 guests for Thanksgiving. It is still without insulation and drywall, but a wood stove keeps it toasty, and the exposed wood walls add a charming, barn-like feel. When they were re-doing the floor, they pulled up a large piece of old wood that Alan recycled into a giant 9 foot by 5 foot table! So there were 45 square feet of dining surface. Katie made a large evergreen wreath suspended horizontally over the table, with numerous hanging tealight candles dangling from it. The whole space was beautifully rustic and elegant.


Oh, and the food was great too. All the usual delicious autumnal dishes, plus a few less traditional ones as well. Multiple stuffings, cranberry sauces, gravies, and veggies made it hard to try everything before getting totally stuffed. I liked Katie's checkered presentation of the mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes. Dessert held not only pies but apple crisp, local Mallard's ice cream, and port.


As I sat in a full-belly, post-feast daze, I looked around the room contentedly. All across the country, people were doing the same thing, reveling in the comfortable chatter of close ones, feeling warm and nourished. I was missing certain family members and friends, but happy to know that we were all sharing in this similar holiday feel in different places. That's why I like Thanksgiving- it's not over-commercialized, not full of expectations, very simple actually. It's just a seasonal, sincere meal as food is meant to be, shared with conversation and many people contributing. I will remember this year's holiday fondly thanks to Katie and Alan and their open-armed community. And for all this I am truly, truly thankful.

Oh, and in light of the holiday, I thought it would be the perfect time to add a few more blog links to my list, both food-related. One is the Cook Castillo, an brand spankin' new blog about cooking at a restaurant on Orcas Island, and the other is Not Without Salt, a more established one by a pasty chef in Bellingham.

Goodbye Fair Isle

It's official. I'm no longer an Orcas Island resident.

I have had a wonderful last year and a half living there, but I am ready to move on. I have been unemployed recently and am looking forward to finding work in a bigger place. For now that place is Seattle, thanks to the grace of my dear parents who are letting me once again call their house my home. Moving also means the return of everyday conveniences I have been missing- central heating! a refrigerator! internet! electricity! indoor plumbing! public transit!

Aries Hunting Aries

I have just returned from my first real hunting trip. I went last year, but it was more of an introduction to see if it was something I could even handle or want to do. I decided I could handle it, and that this year I endeavored to do everything on my own, from stalking to shooting to gutting to skinning to butchering.

My step-dad Larry and step-bro Brandon kindly had me along on their annual deer and moufflon hunt at our family's property on Stuart Island. BTW, a moufflon is a wild sheep, and you can read more about them here on Wikipedia. They are legal to hunt at any time, and smaller than a deer, so that seemed like the perfect animal to start with as a neophyte huntress.

The first day Brandon and I tracked the moufflon ALL day. They seem to know when it is hunting season, and get more skiddish once they have heard any shots. After a day of tromping up and down hillsides, bushwacking, and climbing over logs in the drizzling rain, all with a gun in hand, I was tired and tired of feeling like I was in boot camp. All day Bjork's song from Homogenic was running through my head, "I'm a hunter... ooh, ooh... I'm going hunting..."

But thus far, it didn't really seem like I was a hunter. After the excitement of the prospect of harvesting my own wild meat, I had a reality check that it was very possible that I wouldn't get a moufflon after all. I got a good night's sleep and woke up optimistic, though it was raining even harder than the day before. Brandon and I set out down the road to again start at the far end of the property and work our way back along the ridge.

After less than a 10 minute walk, we saw a small herd of ewes grazing in an open meadow on the side of the road. My adrenaline began pumping. We had a clear shot, a safe backdrop, and they didn't know we were there yet. "This is my shot," I whispered to my brother. He nodded, and we both kneeled down to take aim. I was shaking but tried to steady myself and my breathing while not making any noise. I hadn't actually shot a gun since target practice when I was a kid, oh, maybe 17 years ago. I picked a dark moufflon at a good angle to me and pulled the trigger.

They all ran up toward the woods. Again the reality hit me that hunting is no easy undertaking, and not only is it sometimes hard to find the animals, but people miss targets all the time. Bran and I went down to the field to check for a possible blood trail and try to track the herd. We walked about 30 feet into the woods and there on the ground was a dark female moufflon. "You got her," Brandon said. "No way, I missed!" I said. He put his hand on her belly and shook his head. "She's still warm." And then he felt the neck and showed me where the bullet entered.

At this moment sets in the strangest mix of feelings, of pride and confusion and horror. This mammal was alive and eating a minute ago, and through some remote action with a firearm she is dead on this cold, grey morning. But that moment passes, and I feel completely able to take responsibility for my action, for doing it with intention, and for embracing the intimacy of interacting with an animal that I will eat. And even beyond that, I feel attentively calm and focused on the next step of cleaning the animal well. I watched the guys field dress last year, but had never done it myself. Brandon walked me through it verbally, from slitting the throat to drain the blood, to slicing open the belly, to pulling out all the organs, to the careful cuts around the pelvis to remove the tail and reproductive parts cleanly. And this is no clean business. The smell is indescribable. The guts are eerily warm and steaming. The blood that doesn't drain from the neck is thick and goopy and must be scooped out of the body cavity. Some organs don't want to come out easily and must be yanked.

By the time I got her back to the cabin, I was totally drenched. I changed clothes and drank some hot chocolate before heading back out to find Larry. Brandon wanted to continue hunting on his own, so Larry would help me hang the moufflon and skin. I actually am pretty experienced with skinning, but it's nice to have an extra set of eyes. He also helped me spread open the chest to get more air circulation in there and cool the meat faster. Soon the work was done and there was nothing more for me to do except wait the 3 days for the meat to cure before butchering, which a friend would help me with later back on Orcas.

The most profound part of the weekend for me was just becoming so comfortable with the blood and gore of it all. As people who know me well can attest, I have serious issues with blood. I have to lay down to get my blood drawn, can't donate, and have been known to get nauseaous and/or faint at the sight of a small cut on myself or others. Friends have to censor really graphic parts in movies and I cover my eyes until the blood has past.

Yet. Somehow when it comes to animal blood, I do just fine. In fact, the instinctual drive to preserve the animal makes it easy. Where this comes from I don't know, but it's pretty empowering for a person who normally has to lay by the toilet for 10 minutes after cutting her finger slightly on a kitchen knife.

Rediscovering the Mainland

I have been totally in love with rural island living for more than a year, but the charm seems to be wearing off a little. While for the past year I only left the island when I had to, I suddenly find myself leaving more often and drawn to the people, culture, variety, and faster pace on the "mainland".

On my most recent off-island trip I hiked up Mt. Pilchuck (near Granite Falls) with girlfriends Erin and Serena. I was excited to go hiking in the Cascades and see a new view, which was supposed to be spectacular from the 1920's fire lookout at the top. Unfortunately, it was a foggy, overcast day, and we couldn't see anything! It was still a beautiful hike, and fun, varied trail through forest and granite boulder fields. Afterward, tired and hungry, we returned to Erin's house to make dinner and get a pasta-making lesson from her. We made delicious homemade butternut squash and sage raviolis with a toasted hazelnut brown butter sauce, a shave of pecorino, and green salad with heirloom garden tomatoes.

My niece Emma also turned one year old! I can't believe it. She is walking all over the place, saying a few words, and pretty much cuter than ever. It was a pool party for her birthday and I found myself having a blast with all the kids going down the big slide and swinging on the rope swing.

I also caught up with old friends, went running on the Burke-Gilman, and enjoyed some happy-hour specials including a prickly pear margarita. Ole!

A Quote and A Shout-Out

I want to send my love and best wishes to a couple friends who just left the country! First to Elizabeth, who moved back to Buenos Aires for the next 8 months. I visited her last year in Chile before she moved to BA for the first time. We had a blast in Valparaiso and I know she will have an amazing time being back in South America.

The day after she left, Kate left for Jordan, Egypt, Syria, and Israel/Palestine for the next 5 months. You can read about both their adventures in their blogs, La Vida Desconocida and In the Middle of What, respectively. Seeing their excitement in embarking on these adventures only heightens my desire to take off for somewhere myself. Hopefully soon... maybe I can even meet up with one or both of them!

I also recently came across a quote I really like by Martha Graham, choreographer and dancer who basically pioneered modern dance.

"There is a vitality, a life force, and energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, that expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open."

Heck yeah!

Hunkering Down, Bundling Up

After the first few days of fall being amazingly sunny and warm, it has now turned chilly and autumnal. I realize that on this blog I am almost always talking about the change of the seasons, but c'mon, I practically live outside (luxury camping!) so it is a major part of my life. I can tell the outside temperature and if it's clear or cloudy practically before I even open my eyes in the morning. Sleeping in a yurt makes me very close to the air, and harder to get out of bed now that the nights are colder. Having an outdoor kitchen and living room means we have to bundle up in the evenings, prompting us to wear ridiculous outfits we would never otherwise don, such as ponchos, fleece pants, uggs, and wool hats.


Cooking dinner by candlelight and headlamp takes a certain resolution unto itself. Though we are barely out of summer, the cold is already making my roommates and I change our diet, suddenly craving warmer, richer, high-caloric foods. Gone are the light meals of veggies, salads, and berries. A recent house dinner for example: As an appetizer we made cheese and garlic-stuffed fried squash blossoms, and we almost never fry things. While we were on a role, some one suggested fried avocado. Sure, why not?! We were all already feeling fatter by the time dinner was ready, and I had made an oyster mushroom-shallot cream sauce for the orzo and veggies. I usually don't even like cream sauces! While I was chuckling at this sudden change, I came across a related passage in Under the Tuscan Sun, which I am reading for the first time. I'm really enjoying it, and wouldn't recommend it to anyone unless they could get to Italy in the next year, because it will make you want to go.

"The rich smells drifting from our kitchen are different in winter. The light summer fragrances of basil, lemon balm, and tomatoes are replaced by aromas of succulent pork roast glazed with honey, guinea hens roasting under a layer of pancetta, and ribollita, that heartiest of soups. Subtle and earthy, the fine shavings of Umbrian truffle over a bowl of pasta prick the senses. At breakfast, the perfumed melons of summer are forgotten and we use leftover bread for slabs of French toast spread with jam plum I made last summer from the delicate coscia de monaca, nun's thigh, variety that grows along the back of the house..."

Smaller Island Exploration

In an effort to take full advantage of living in the San Juans, I've explored a few smaller neighboring islands recently. Here is a recap of my summer island-hoping.

JONES: Jones is a small island near Deer Harbor, just off the southwest side of Orcas. It makes for a great afternoon sail, quick overnight getaway, or stop-over en route to other islands. There are two harbors on the north and south sides, so you can pick the more protected anchorage depending on the direction the wind is blowing from. The whole island is a state park, and trails ring around and across the island. Kevin and I have sailed over there several times together. Most recently we went on Labor Day weekend to spend the night and get an earlier start sailing to islands north of Orcas. Here's a view from the southside.

PATOS: From Jones we woke up horrifically early to catch the current up President's Channel and make it to Patos, the most northern island, so small and outlying that it's not even on the map above. It's north of Waldron, west of Sucia. By the time we were drinking coffee, it was a beautiful calm sunny morning. I saw more porpoises than I have ever seen in the San Juans, or anywhere for that matter, their curved black backs sliding out of the water all around us continually, probably about about 30 of them. As we approached Patos, the historic lighthouse loomed over the water. Right across from Patos in Canada is Saturna, and an almost identical lighthouse sits on a point there too, making the islands look like reflections of each other. Spots like that that have such similar geography and architecture remind me just how arbitrary the national boundaries can be. I peeked in the lighthouse window and saw, among other things, a line-up of rubber duckies in all sorts of village-people work attire- fireman, nurse, police officer, etc. Random, I thought. Then I realized that although the island is pronounced PAY-tos, it comes from the Spanish PAH-tos, meaning duck. Apparently there is a duck-theme going on. Anyway, Patos is fairly small, but a beautiful trail around the outside hugs the shore next to a wide expanse of rocks and tide pools.



SUCIA: I've always wanted to go to Sucia because of the name meaning "dirty" in Spanish and that intrigue me. It's pronounced SOO-sha locally, but in espanol would be SOO-see-ah. And it just looks cool on the map, all long and sinewy with arms and harbors. Like Jones and Patos, it is entirely state park with many trails and bays. It is really close to Orcas, and all summer I just wanted to kayak from the north side of Orcas, but for various reasons with various friends it never worked out. So instead it was a sail from Patos, probably more fun anyway.

We anchored in Shallow Bay, which definitely lives up to its namesake. We were checking the tide chart to make sure that the low low tide wouldn't be, well, too low. Luckily at the lowest it would be a +2.1 foot tide, so we estimated that at the worst we'd be in 9 feet of water, and since the hull draws almost 6 feet, it gave us just over 3 feet to spare. I had a dream that I woke up to the boat sitting on the bottom, and I got out and walked to shore because it was so shallow. Fortunately when I woke up we were still floating.

Sucia is cool geologically because it is all sandstone, so there are sweet caves and cliffs and rock formations that you don't see in many of the other islands.




WALDRON: I've been fascinated with getting to Waldron ever since I heard that it was completely private and the only way to go was through an invite. I bided my time, plotted my strategy, and finally went in August as a chaperone for the FEAST (Farm Education and Sustainability for Teens) Program. My roomate is the coordinator for this awesome accredited high school summer program, and I have volunteered with them on local farms and events since last year. Most of the education is based on Orcas, but this was the students' opportunity to visit a neighboring island at the invitation of a Waldrom resident who is a renowned botanist, especially for wild edibles, and especially for seaweed. We spent two days going on plant walks, learning about marine and forest ecology, and eating wild food, discovering just how much is actually edible. I don't think I have ever put so many new foods in my mouth in one day. At night we all camped out at the public school.



Once the students left, we adults had some time to ourselves. It was the annual community caberet fundraiser that night, so we hitched a ride across the island to check it out. Waldron is probably the most culturally isolated island in the archipelago, to the point of having a reputation for hostility to outsiders. I'm glad I got to go on a weekend where there was a large event, and overall I found people extremely friendly. It was on an absolutely stunning piece of property, a working farm set atop a cliff overlooking President's channel. It's not too often in this area you see agricultural land with a waterfront view. The vegetables are sold at the San Juan farmer's market, and the flowers at the market here on Orcas. For a reasonable entry fee, they provided delicious food, mostly fresh from the farm, an assortment of homemade desserts, and beverages. There was a live auction, musical acts, skits, and in the end an impromptu dance party before heading home.




STUART: It's not really new to explore Stuart because I have been going there my whole life, but it is still a smaller island that I would like to write about. It is mostly private, but has a substantial state park on it that bring a lot of tourists to an otherwise remote island. There is no grid electricity, no paved roads, no stores, and mail is only delivered 3 times a week. There is a one-room K-8 school that is still in use and a historic lighthouse. It is the very most northwestern island before Canada, earning the nickname "the last outpost", and has a history of independent, wild folks living there, as seems to be the case for these islands in general.

I took this picture from the air, and you can really see the anchor-shape of the island.

The Turn Point Lighthouse with Suicide Bluff in the background, one of my favorite places on the planet to watch the sunset.

Off the Rock

I am officially unemployed and happily feeling like a total bum for the moment. I just took a solid week off from Orcas to visit peeps in Seattle and take a trip to Southern Oregon. Highlights: The drive to Seattle with Kate who is a walking encyclopedia of Middle East history (U.S.-Iran relations 1955-1995 was an 50 minute explanation); massive amounts of canning at my mom's house (BBQ sauce, chutneys, plum sauce, 3-pepper jelly); urban foraging in Columbia City and eating Ethiopian food with Elizabeth; catching up over margaritas with Lindsey; Capitol Hill with Will including fish tacos and a yummy Elysian winter beer aged in oak; seeing my niece who is the cutest baby ever; a night in an old Portland house where it was too hot to sleep but I didn't care because it felt like summer; and an epic roadtrip with Kimberlyn and Justin. They are a couple who are getting married next year, and I went to the Rogue River in Oregon with them to check out a lodge as a possible wedding location. It is an incredibly remote lodge as there is no road access and you either have to hike in along the river, raft in from near Grant's Pass, or take a jet boat hours up the river from the coast. Crazy! It was a beautiful spot and quite an adventure to get down there and back in a weekend.