Last week I went to a concert put together by a homeschooling mom, with a bunch of other women and children. Some of the women were parents but not all of them. I said to my partner James before we left, “Just to warn you, anytime there are multiple kids singing, I can’t help crying, it happens every time.” Read more
Hello friends! Here’s the recipe for the delicious vegan cornbread I mentioned yesterday. It makes a lovely centerpiece to any meal, be it breakfast, lunch, or supper!
I’ve made so many versions of this cornbread, and shared it with countless people. I’m always so pleased at the strong reactions it seems to inspire. Ah, the delights of comfort food! I could seriously eat homemade cornbread every day of my life and be really happy about it. As long as it was at least something like this one!:) Read more
I’m in the process of moving out of my wonderful house right now. It’s a long story about how and why I decided to do this, but I know it’s all for the best. I’m still hoping to continue hosting the intimate “Underground Cafes” that have been happening once a month there, with great live music and simple but undoubtedly gourmet meals that are served to the guests who mostly sit around the wood stove on pillows on our floor. Things like morel and wild rice stew with preserved lemons, fir oil, and nettle pesto, gluten free buckwheat oat bread, elderberry sundaes made with homemade, organic coconut milk ice cream are all included in the donation, along with the performances. And then, we also have herbal teas, herbal products and elixirs, and my chocolate truffles for sale. Yes, it’s even more fun than it sounds! (our next one is March 14th, you can message me– “Elka Wilder” on FB for details and reservations).
A ReWilded Kitchen, A ReWilded Life
This is the beginning of an essay that originally appeared in Plant Healer magazine. The complete version will be found in my upcoming book of essays that I’m planning as a companion to my cookbook.
Food- A Primal, Primary Focus
Anima teaches that every moment is a decisive moment, and our reality in part a product of our choices. Picture the life you’ve always wanted, yours for the manifesting. Picture no more compromising of your wants and needs, no more being resigned to obligations or subject to those who would judge and guilt trip you. Imagine your future as a blank canvas, and you equipped with every color of paint with which to created the healthful existence you deeply crave. Where, and with whom would you live? What would you do with your precious mortal hours? What acts of creativity would you focus on, and revel in? How and what would you eat?
My love Marcus and I were out walking last night. We started out on a country road, near the place where we are house sitting, intending just to catch the last bit of sunset time. After a while we decided to walk to the spa/hot springs where I work, about a mile down the highway. This got us talking about the strange beauty of landscapes interrupted by the things of civilization. And Mad Max, and the Rainbow Gathering we’d just been to last week, and that one of our favorite things about Rainbow was its post-apocalyptic vibe. Very different from the Oregon Country Fair, which was more like a bunch of fairies who decided to make a really pretty shopping mall in the middle of the woods, complete with great live music at every corner. But I don’t mean to make it sound like I preferred the Rainbow gathering over the Fair, just so you know. Read more
I was talking to my dear coworker Kimberly about missing Rhiannon, quite calmly at first, but then I lost my composure and was so glad for the absence of customers. Now I’m home and the rest of the house is laughing downstairs, watching a comedy. The kitchen is quiet and full of dirty dishes, ginger tea brewing on the stove and three kinds of good chocolate open on the counter. The fridge and fruit baskets are nearly empty today- the first time since I’ve been in this house (I’ve recently moved– more about that next time!) that I’ve seen this happen– but still, this kitchen always manages to feel abundant in just about everything– chaos, inspiration, love and affection, ideas, potential things to make or to sit and contemplate or just enjoy.
The laughter is sweet and heart warming. I know I’m not really as lonely as I feel, right now, in general, but at the moment it’s hard to access my usual feeling of connection. Read more
It’s been a really weird week here, not to mention the weeks before that, the election, Standing Rock, and all the other escalating craziness all over the world. I keep thinking of Blue’s Journal, which is a recurring thread in Wolf’s novel The Kokopelli Seed. Wolf started writing this book way back in 1980 (incidentally, the same year Kiva was born, which is interesting because it was the same year the character that Kiva was named from was formed in Wolf’s consciousness, more on that maybe another time!) Blue’s Journal is the collection of notes by one of the main characters that chronicles notable events—natural, as in earthquakes, political uprisings, terrorist attacks, and random very odd occurrences. Read more
I want my blog to be a fairly accurate reflection of the person I really am.
An important part of who I am a devoted kitchen tender, who much prefers to go to bed at night without any dishes left in the sink. Harmony and beauty are things I value very much, right up there with joy and satisfaction. Focus is another thing that’s important, but very hard for me to accomplish.
My original vision was to keep this blog focused on the food, and not so much on me, or my life, or the way I see and experience the world. But I’m seeing that I want it to feel more playful, more true to the imperfect person that I am– and less “I’m trying to be a serious food writer that shows nothing but pretty pictures of perfect food”.
The cookbook I’m writing will be focused on just food. (at least I think so!) But this blog, starting now, (actually I think it started with my last post, and I just didn’t know it yet) will include all kinds of other stuff, along with the food.
It’s kind of scary, feeling like I’m opening up other aspects of myself to potential criticism. It’s like inviting my mother for supper in the middle of monsoon season, when I know there will be flies in the kitchen and I will be running around like crazy with buckets of water and she will be shaking her head, wondering what she did to deserve such a strange creature for a daughter, and what she might have done wrong. Read more