National Poetry Month: Part 1

I tend to think of April as the month that belongs to me. It's the month that my husband and I celebrate our anniversary, for one thing. It's also National Poetry Month, so being that I write a blog devoted to the craft, spring comes bellowing out of the sky with a loud knock at my door. Every year, I'd like to answer with a resounding cry.  I'll blog every day in April! I'll do book reviews! I'll write long, thought-provoking essays on why poetry matters. I'll do even more poetry and recipe pairings! I'll read more!

In truth, I didn't have anything planned this year, but when I was wandering the shelves at the library during my lunch break on April 1st, I decided to post a poem I found on Instagram. Then, I decided to post another one on April 2nd, and April 3rd. You get the idea.

So to celebrate National Poetry Month, I'm posting a poem a day on Instagram and Facebook. If you're so inclined, upload your own favorite poems on Instagram and hashtag #eatthispoem so I can repin!

I'm also aiming to publish a recap here on the blog, so you can find the weekly offerings all in one place. I hope you enjoy the selections from Week 1.

Day 1: "Spring" by Charles Simic | Day 2: "Two Rains" by Jane Hirshfield | Day 3: "Getting it Right" by Jack Gilbert | Day 4: "Waking at Night" by Jack Gilbert | Day 5: "Travel" by Edna St. Vincent Millay | Day 6: "A Noiseless Patient Spider" by Walt Whitman | Day 7: "Sight" by W.S. Merwin

 

Literary City Guides: Glasgow and Barcelona

Literary City Guides are jetting back to Europe today, and welcoming two new countries to the mix! 

When I was in Scotland many years ago, Glasgow was one of the pass-through cities. We spent only one night there, and my one memory is of the sun setting over the river near our hotel. I saw most of the city through from behind a tour bus, and didn't venture out at all the way I would today. Luckily, Utah-based Rosie Liljenquist used to call the city home, and her recommendations will have Glasgow charming its way to your hearts.

I've been to Spain also, but not to Barcelona (sadly). The three days I spent there were based in Madrid, with a train ride to Seville in between. Camila Loew lived in Barcelona since 1998, and recently moved to the Bay Area. She recently moved to the Bay Area by way of Barcelona, and her local perspective is one to rely on during your next visit. There are plenty of good bookstores, cafes for tea and coffee lovers alike, and more pastry shops than you probably need. Luckily, Barcelona is a walkable city, so all will balance out.

Ode to a Cast Iron Pot + Lasagna Without a Recipe

Lasagna Without a Recipe

The first line formed before I finished washing the dishes, after I had given the béchamel its final stir Two days before, I made the bolognese, so everything would be prepared before Friday, when I would boil the noodles and assemble the lasagna so it would be ready for dinner on Sunday. Five days of preparation for a meal that would end up sustaining us for three days. 

In addition to lasagna, there was also a poem to be made. I didn't plan to write one, but I listened when the urge arose. I walked to the computer, and out it came like one long breath. Maybe it's because I recently finished reading all of Pablo Neruda's odes. Every last one. Neruda finds beauty in ironing, in flowers, in tables, in the smell of wind. If you're looking for a new collection to add to your shelf, this is a good one.

My own contribution is an ode to my red cast iron pot.

Bechemel

Ode to a Cast Iron Pot

One day, a béchamel. The day after,
carrot soup. And the next, grains
of stumpy rice prepare for the submersion. 

The pot accepts all: whisking, tapping,
scraping with an old wooden spoon. Even a long 
soak on the counter or the boiling water, a fizz

of baking soda to pull up the remains that wanted
to leave a wound. So, your interior is tinged yellow or 
brown. As long as I could, I kept you protected,

but now you are worn like the rest of us, entering 
the kitchen with faded scars, filling you
to the brim with red sauces, expecting our hungers

to melt like a yellow stick of hot butter.

I rarely make lasagna. Many years ago I experimented with a fall-inspired version featuring butternut squash, sage béchamel, and ground turkey. I loved the flavors, yet didn't love the effort it took. But Food52 is right, you don't need a recipe for lasagna. You need a mood, a couple of sturdy pots, and an appetite. 

I made a double batch of bolognese (2 pounds ground beef + onion, carrot, celery, and garlic finely minced + 2 28-ounce cans tomatoes + a bay leaf + water + a few hours on the stove), and used the Food52 method for béchamel (1 stick butter, 1 cup flour, four cups milk + salt, pepper, and I added chopped basil). Then the noodles, then the great assembly line, then the avalanche of cheese. Cooking it this way feels so rooted, because when you've freed yourself from a recipe and trust your instincts, you realize that your hands remember everything, and it's possible to feel your way around in a dark kitchen without so much as a flick of the light switch.