***做酵母(jiao mu/sourdough starter)!!!!!***
3 杯溫開水
2 杯麵粉
- 把原料放進一個大玻璃(buoli/glass)或陶瓷(taochi/ceramic)容器 (rong qi/ container)... 要給他足夠空間長
- 注意你的水一定要乾淨... 可以先把開水燒滾燙(guin tang/ boil the water)
- 如果你要, 也可以先泡一些有機(organic)乾果在水裡, 幫酵母發酵
- 把水跟麵粉在大容器裡混在一起
- 用棉布(mianbu/ cotton)鬆鬆的蓋住容器 (酵母需要呼吸哦!)
- 把它放在溫溫的地方 2-5 天... 看看天氣怎樣. 比較熱, 就會發酵的比較快
- 可以每天看一看, 攪一攪(jiao/mix), 給它唱唱歌...
- 它開始起泡泡, 和聞起來有點兒酸酸的, 他就好了!
- 把它攪一攪, 蓋起來, 放進冰箱, 就好了!
- 不要忘了它哦!!!
- 每個月, 或是每隔一個禮拜, 得做麵包啦... 或是最少要給酵母吃東西...
- (一部分酵母 + 一部分水) + (1-2 杯麵粉)... 攪起來, 留在溫溫的地方 12-24 小時, 再放回冰箱... 好了!
- 有太多酵母, 就可以送給朋友, 鼓勵他們也做麵包... yum yum :)
***做發酵麵包!!!!! (sourdough)***
又好吃, 又容易做... yay!
1 1/4 杯酵母 (先攪, 再糧)
2 3/4 杯溫的款泉水
6-7 杯全麥麵粉 (quan mai mian fen/ whole wheat flour)
1-2 茶匙鹽 (cha chi yan/ teaspoon salt)
- 攪起來
- 揉麵團! 揉, 揉, 揉 (rou/ knead)... 要最少揉 10 分鐘, 揉到它軟為止
- 放進有一點油的鍋子. 油讓他不黏 (nian/ stick) 鍋子
- 蓋起來, 讓他坐在那兒 10-12 個小時... 你可以出去玩... 讓它坐久一點沒問題...
- ...等好了, 他會有點兒黏. 再揉吧! 揉 3-5 分鐘... 把它分成兩半 (都可以)
- 把它揉成你要的麵包形狀 (xing zhuang/ shape) 以後, 用濕布 (shi bu/ wet cloth) 蓋 2-3 個小時 (它會長到兩倍大) (你去清廚房, 吧!)
- ... 烤箱預熱 (kao xiang yu re/ preheat oven) 375 F/ 190 C. 裡頭要擺 (bai/ put) 水, 讓他有蒸汽 (zeng qi/ steam)
- 烤 45-60 分鐘... 把牙籤戳 (ya qian/toothpick, chuo/ poke)下去看看, 沒黏, 就好了!
- 讓他涼快一下... 就能享受了. yum!
- 裝(zhuang/ to store) 在紙袋子 (dai zi/ bag) 裡... 可以放在外頭 1-2 個禮拜
- 多多做, 會越做越好吃哦! 你可以試得放不同種類的東西在麵包裡, 像不同的香料 (xiang liao/ spices), 草藥 (herbs), 堅果 (jianguo/ nuts), 乾果 (ganguo/ fruits), 等等... :)
2.12.2011
2.06.2011
travel update
yo! quick head's up:
leavin for china, end of february
won't be updatin this phog or using fb, until maybe july
so if ya want, connect with me now!
lovelove
JL
leavin for china, end of february
won't be updatin this phog or using fb, until maybe july
so if ya want, connect with me now!
lovelove
JL
2.03.2011
walk
as i step off the curb,
the possibility of turning left or right presents itself
both ways lead to great places
and either route holds the big empty bowl of possibility
of radically changing my life
and so, i choose
i turn
and keep walking
the possibility of turning left or right presents itself
both ways lead to great places
and either route holds the big empty bowl of possibility
of radically changing my life
and so, i choose
i turn
and keep walking
1.31.2011
Root Rooting Rooted: on Taiwan
Who are you? Where do you come from? Tell me your story. What is your reality? What has nourished, challenged, and sculpted you, most magnificently, into your current reality... and then, when you look down beneath the Earth that you stand upon, what are your roots?
My roots reach deep below my feet, and then far across the Pacific Ocean, with grandparents that migrated from China to Taiwan, and parents that migrated from Taiwan to America. My roots have then carried me, migrating like my ancestors, around and through America for four years, twining and intertwining, and now above and beyond... back across the Ocean, back to my parents' roots, back to Taipei, Taiwan.
(What is this place you call home?)
I am now living in the same area that both my parents grew up in. Down the street, my mom's parents still live in the same house my mom grew up in. The house my dad grew up in is only a few blocks away. I am going to school up the road from my mom's college, learning Chinese, and tasting what it is like to be a student in Taiwan. I visit a beautiful park everyday; this is the where my parents first met. My personal creation myth begins, here. Once upon a time...
(What is your story?)
Every time I sit, poring over books and preparing for tests, in my grandma's store, she watches me, and whispers to my aunt, "She is just like her mother." My every action is watched, is a miracle. The beautiful chubby big-eyed baby has returned to her roots, to her parent's homeland, transformed into a woman. Some woman. We place my school ID next to my mom's old school ID, and see a startling similarity. I am the mirror of her youth. I look into the mysterious black-and-white yet not-so-black-and-white eyes of my mother from when she was even younger than my current age. Who ARE you?
My sprawling family tree smiles up at me from bags and boxes and albums of black-and-white memories. I never even imagined a tree like this. We are migratory. We are steadfast. We are survivors, adventurers, warriors, scholars, artists, healers, and royalty. We are our grandmothers' prayers, we are our grandfathers' dreaming, and we are all (somehow) completely connected by roots intertwined into the most beautiful knots.
(Who is your family? How are they manifested in your being?)
"You are so wise, grandma," I say over a dinner of warming winter soup, stir-fried cauliflowers, and the ever present bowl of rice. My grandma replies, "No, you are much smarter than I am!" She has never gone to school. It was taboo for women to get schooled, in her time. She taught herself how to read and write Chinese. She started this store we sit in now, and is the proud matriarch of a family of five children, who are all married now, each with two children. I say, "One plus one... makes twenty-two!" and "Grandma, you've lived so much longer than I have. You've seen so much. All my schooling is nothing compared to your life experience." We all have so many stories and experiences to share, from worlds apart... and yet not apart at all. Isn't it all just one world, really?
(I don’t know you, but somehow I do. And you, dear grandma, are a huge part of my Life... whether I know it or not. You created my mother, who created me. I am, thus, literally walking in your feet. Who ARE you?)
(I don't know you, but somehow I do. And YOU, dear reader, are somehow also nicely tied into my life, now even more so, from reading this... whether I know it or not. Tell me, tell we, who ARE you?)
Speak to me of family shock. A family tree that extends on forever, with fresh stories that never stop flowing, and realizations that never stop surprising. Oh, so that’s where that pattern came from! Oh, so that’s why Mom walks like this! Oh, so this is why I have an unexplainable penchant for this-or-that! Click, click, and click. All the puzzle pieces in my brain rearrange as my roots dig in deeper and I explore this land, and my family ancestry.
(What's calling to you these days? What stories do you connect with?)
I am now sitting in my room, preparing for bed. A lone bird's night song comes dimly drifting in through the window, grounding green tea scents tickle my nose, scrawling Chinese doodles tumble across my desk, my aunt’s warm wool coat scratches my neck, sweet black sesame paste dessert lingers lovingly on my tongue. I will fall asleep soon, and most likely dream of a forested desertscape with big mountains in the background, and a big ocean in the foreground, all my various-chapters-of-life friends from across my global roots sitting with me in a circle as we share food and stories over a large fire. Soon enough after sleeping and dreaming, I will most likely wake up. And it will be yet another new (perfect and beautiful) day, in a place that is somehow home and somehow not quite home, and new yet familiar, and warm yet cold, and so many sensations, colors, thoughts, and more all rolled into one big pulsating ball of once-in-a-lifetime experience... and I am grateful. Grateful to look into the mirror, and then all around me, and ask the same question again, and again, and again, the Seeker's mantra:
Who ARE you?
Who AM I?
My roots reach deep below my feet, and then far across the Pacific Ocean, with grandparents that migrated from China to Taiwan, and parents that migrated from Taiwan to America. My roots have then carried me, migrating like my ancestors, around and through America for four years, twining and intertwining, and now above and beyond... back across the Ocean, back to my parents' roots, back to Taipei, Taiwan.
(What is this place you call home?)
I am now living in the same area that both my parents grew up in. Down the street, my mom's parents still live in the same house my mom grew up in. The house my dad grew up in is only a few blocks away. I am going to school up the road from my mom's college, learning Chinese, and tasting what it is like to be a student in Taiwan. I visit a beautiful park everyday; this is the where my parents first met. My personal creation myth begins, here. Once upon a time...
(What is your story?)
Every time I sit, poring over books and preparing for tests, in my grandma's store, she watches me, and whispers to my aunt, "She is just like her mother." My every action is watched, is a miracle. The beautiful chubby big-eyed baby has returned to her roots, to her parent's homeland, transformed into a woman. Some woman. We place my school ID next to my mom's old school ID, and see a startling similarity. I am the mirror of her youth. I look into the mysterious black-and-white yet not-so-black-and-white eyes of my mother from when she was even younger than my current age. Who ARE you?
My sprawling family tree smiles up at me from bags and boxes and albums of black-and-white memories. I never even imagined a tree like this. We are migratory. We are steadfast. We are survivors, adventurers, warriors, scholars, artists, healers, and royalty. We are our grandmothers' prayers, we are our grandfathers' dreaming, and we are all (somehow) completely connected by roots intertwined into the most beautiful knots.
(Who is your family? How are they manifested in your being?)
"You are so wise, grandma," I say over a dinner of warming winter soup, stir-fried cauliflowers, and the ever present bowl of rice. My grandma replies, "No, you are much smarter than I am!" She has never gone to school. It was taboo for women to get schooled, in her time. She taught herself how to read and write Chinese. She started this store we sit in now, and is the proud matriarch of a family of five children, who are all married now, each with two children. I say, "One plus one... makes twenty-two!" and "Grandma, you've lived so much longer than I have. You've seen so much. All my schooling is nothing compared to your life experience." We all have so many stories and experiences to share, from worlds apart... and yet not apart at all. Isn't it all just one world, really?
(I don’t know you, but somehow I do. And you, dear grandma, are a huge part of my Life... whether I know it or not. You created my mother, who created me. I am, thus, literally walking in your feet. Who ARE you?)
(I don't know you, but somehow I do. And YOU, dear reader, are somehow also nicely tied into my life, now even more so, from reading this... whether I know it or not. Tell me, tell we, who ARE you?)
Speak to me of family shock. A family tree that extends on forever, with fresh stories that never stop flowing, and realizations that never stop surprising. Oh, so that’s where that pattern came from! Oh, so that’s why Mom walks like this! Oh, so this is why I have an unexplainable penchant for this-or-that! Click, click, and click. All the puzzle pieces in my brain rearrange as my roots dig in deeper and I explore this land, and my family ancestry.
(What's calling to you these days? What stories do you connect with?)
I am now sitting in my room, preparing for bed. A lone bird's night song comes dimly drifting in through the window, grounding green tea scents tickle my nose, scrawling Chinese doodles tumble across my desk, my aunt’s warm wool coat scratches my neck, sweet black sesame paste dessert lingers lovingly on my tongue. I will fall asleep soon, and most likely dream of a forested desertscape with big mountains in the background, and a big ocean in the foreground, all my various-chapters-of-life friends from across my global roots sitting with me in a circle as we share food and stories over a large fire. Soon enough after sleeping and dreaming, I will most likely wake up. And it will be yet another new (perfect and beautiful) day, in a place that is somehow home and somehow not quite home, and new yet familiar, and warm yet cold, and so many sensations, colors, thoughts, and more all rolled into one big pulsating ball of once-in-a-lifetime experience... and I am grateful. Grateful to look into the mirror, and then all around me, and ask the same question again, and again, and again, the Seeker's mantra:
Who ARE you?
Who AM I?
1.22.2011
1.18.2011
my spot . 我的地方
but only birds and bugs fly by here
and not many plants around
just the ones around my neck
and in my stomach
sometimes it's a move spot
where i watch Sun thru closed eyelids
doing sun salutations and deep breaths
hands open and pushing air around
until it doesn't feel like just air
it's a spot
it's commonly termed the cks memorial
i refer to it as my temple, or spot, or just
that place i go to all the time
it's my spot
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)