Uncommitted
Depression is a three-fold illness, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's Eve. Oh, and then Valentine's Day, which they spring on you just as you breathe a sigh of relief that you've lived through another barrage of cheerfulness and over-eating and senseless shopping.
That’s added at the end so you can feel truly alone and empty. The emptier you are on the inside the tighter your pants fit. You'd think it would work differently, but there you are...the final insult. .
There was a product mom used called 'Tween Time'. It was a greasy crayon that came in different basic colors, brown, black, red, yellow. She would apply this at the roots of her hair when the grey would grow out, before she got to the hair salon where Harold would touch her up. Harold became a close family friend, and he was a wonderful man, protective and nurturing. He lent her the money to get her divorce when she was broke and desperate to get out of a terrible marriage. Why my parents ever chose each other is a mystery to me, as all romantic love seems to be...mysterious and tragic. In those days women married without a lot of premeditation. As a gender they put up with all kinds of painful circumstances. Just consider the pointy shoes with the high heels, the garter belt, the girdle, the bra with wires and hooks....even the skirt! Think about a 'pencil skirt'. I myself have never worn one, but they look incredibly uncomfortable. If you sat down and crossed your legs you'd have to be yanking at the hem constantly to pull it down to remain modest...to cover the straps of the garter belt digging into your thighs holding up your 'hose'.
This month of December is 'Tween Time', and I've decided to devote myself to the complete abandonment of any sense of continuity, artistic commitment, or personal growth. What this means is that I will pick up objects in the house and on the street randomly to paint. A twig, a can opener, something free of thought and consideration. Yesterday I painted a magnificent image of my purple underpants. People were tittillated and shocked by this little watercolor. I had one guy exclaim 'Too Much Information'! Don't they realize the haphazard choice involved in pulling out a piece of cloth from the top drawer? They weren't anything sexy or special ...just cotton briefs. I would never submit to wearing anything other than the most comfortable undergarments. But this little piece of cloth looked beautiful and evocative when painted in colored ink. It makes me feel so much better to glorify the ordinary, because life is pretty ordinary. It's something no young person likes to imagine...our heads are filled with drama and sweeping plans until we hit about 45, when reality sinks in, and we find the truly humble nature of life. There's a kind of peace in that, just the same as painting a picture of underwear, or my plan for tomorrow, painting my toaster. Think, an ordinary toaster, black with aluminum trim. It will be fantastic.
So I'm making this a special month of surrender to the small and ordinary, because it's flanked by awful days of parties and gifts that you don't want, and lots of angry traffic, and probably large pieces of meat. If you yourself are doing the entertaining I bet you have a half-eaten roasted turkey or prime rib, or maybe a quarter of a ham sitting in your ice box right now. After the sandwiches and the soup and the hash and the curry there's something else you can do with those big leftover hunks. This is a recipe for a great chutney that will bring new life to anything at all...serve it on rice or sweet potatoes or eat with a spoon while planning a new year that will be so much better.
Roasted Pear and Ginger Chutney
3 d'anjou pears, good sized
1 cup apple juice
juice from 1 lime
2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
2 inches of fresh ginger, grated to yield a heaping tablespoon
½ cup currants
1 tablespoon brown sugar
½ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
scant ¼ teaspoon ground chili de arbol
pinch salt
Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees. Slice the pears into wedges, about 2 inches thick, discarding stem and seeds, but including the skin. Coat a sheet pan lightly with olive oil, and place pear wedges on their sides. Drizzle a bit more olive oil on top, and sprinkle with brown sugar. This will help the pears to caramelize. Place in oven and roast for ½ an hour. Every oven is different, so check at 5-minute intervals to make sure nothing is burning.
Whilst pears are roasting, in a heavy pot place all remaining ingredients except ginger. Simmer over a low flame until reduced by half. Sauce and pears should be ready at about the same time. Let everything cool. With a spatula, scrape pears off the baking sheet, chopping coarsely at the same time. Add to liquid and stir. This will yield about 2 cups of chutney, plenty for topping anything and everything.