Left Over

We had chicken and white gravy, mashed potatoes, biscuits, and green beans for dinner last night. It would have been my dad's 88th birthday, and it was his favorite, so we ate it in honor of him. 

The recipe calls for a whole chicken, so although the two of us ate our fill, there were plenty of leftovers. Usually, I love eating the extras from any meal, especially such a comforting one, for lunch, and I'm happy to have the same thing for several days. But for some reason today I just didn't want the potatoes, even though Heidi thought I was nuts: "Those are the best part!" she reminded me.

Instead, I cooked some bucatini and tossed it some chicken and gravy, a healthy splash of pasta water, some blanched greens, a little shaved romano, and a spoonful of chili crunch. My lunch had the soul of the original dish, but it was completely different. I loved it! And I kind of believed my dad would have like it, too, if only we could have gotten him to try it.

Touché

The warm up activity in class today was to frame a quick claim about a character in a short story we had read. "Is Squeaky likeable?" I asked, and students were expected to post a debatable claim with three character traits to support it. There is a kid in the class who has lately been refusing to participate in the warm up. His recalcitrance poses a problem: the activity is formative and therefore not graded, but it is a requirement of the class, designed to either review, introduce, or extend important concepts, as well as to build community and engagement. 

Can it be a pain sometimes? No doubt. I'm sure there are mornings when several kids would rather sit there than participate, but in my estimation that's not what's best for them. Many students can be encouraged with rewards or consequences unrelated to grades, but this particular child doesn't fall into that category. And so I have developed an uneasy truce with him; if the question is more fun than academic and he can make a case about his ignorance of the topic, then I'll let it go. 

But today? That was not the case. We were taking a test as our next activity, and I insisted he finish this one before he start the test. Still he resisted, contending that he needed to re-read the story, and getting up several times to blow his nose. All around him, other students were sharing their ideas, several of whom put forth the claim that Squeaky was likeable because she cared about her brother. 

I pushed back a little. "Caring for your brother may be admirable, but does it necessarily make her likeable?" I asked. "I care about my brother. Do you like me?"

The unwilling student happened to pass by my desk for a tissue at that moment. "Hmm," he said to himself, but loudly enough that I could hear. "Definitely debatable."

At least he was paying attention.

OLW '23

 Here's what I wrote last year at this time:

Another year, another One Little Word assignment-- regular readers might remember my new year tradition of asking my students to share one word that represents something they want more of in their lives in the coming year. This time, instead of asking the young writers to compose a paragraph about their choice, they simply posted the single word, and then each read it to the class and explained why they had chosen it. Seeing the words stand alone was powerful, but hearing the student's voices as they elucidated their ideas was quite poignant. I think I'll do it again this way next year.

Unfortunately, I did not check back with myself, and we didn't repeat the single word presentation. Perhaps I'll create a reminder for January of 2024.

And here's what I did do a bit differently:

I like this visual addition! I hope I can remember to do it again.

I'm Aware

 On the first morning back from winter break we did a mindfulness activity that involved drawing a circle, taking some deep breaths, and then recording any thoughts or feelings that came to the surface in the circle. The idea was to identify any distractions that might get in the way of learning and to consciously set those aside.

The kids in my homeroom were not quite sure what they were doing, so I stepped to the whiteboard to demonstrate. I drew a big circle, closed my eyes and took a few breaths. Then I began to write. "It's hot in here!" I started. "I hate the way that pipe they put in under the window looks."

The kids eyebrows went up. They did not expect negativity, but there it was. "Are you tired?" asked one helpfully.

"Yes!" I replied and added it to my list with a laugh. "And the room was a mess when I got here this morning, so I had to straighten everything up."

"Wow!" noted another student. "You really have a lot to get out of your way so you can do a good job teaching today!"

Undead

I spent the last few precious hours of winter break staring at my phone in the service waiting room at the car dealership. I had secured a 3 PM appointment and a portable battery charger, and the two of those got me twenty minutes away to where they could explain why a four month new battery had failed not once, but twice. 

They are very patient, solicitous really, there, which is one of the reasons I choose to take my business to them. And I have confidence in how much value they place in their brand name, and hence their service, which is another reason they are my auto shop. This time, they did not fail me, but they also did not find anything wrong with either the battery or the electrical system. They even gave me a free loaner and kept our car overnight to make sure it started again today.

Which it did. Four times.

And so? The mystery remains. But fortunately, so does that battery charger-- right in the back seat.

Tepid

Never one to relish transitions, I can't say I'm eager to get back to school, especially after such a lengthy break. The best I can do is to acknowledge it will all be fine and to remember that the best days of sixth grade are always after winter break.

Onward!

Paris-Brest

Call me impressionable.

The Iconic French Pastry You Should Bake for a New Year’s Party read the headline on the NYTimes website. 

I was intrigued, and when I got to the third paragraph, Like many other French pastries, Paris-Brest requires several steps and components, but the entire process can be broken down into manageable parts that can — and should — be done ahead of time. The finished pastry is a showpiece, so make it when you really want to show off (and feed a group), I was all in! This would be our New Year's day dessert, the perfect conclusion to our traditional meal of fried chicken, ham, black eyed peas, greens, corn, and rice.

I was undaunted by the fourteen rather involved steps (5 printed pages!) that outlined the three main components: pastry cream, homemade hazelnut and almond praline, and choux pastry. None of the techniques were new to me, and the idea of making French-style praline seemed exciting and fun. I also knew I had most of the ingredients on hand, and that I would have the time to start cooking the day before. 

What threw me a little bit was the timing. The final product was meant to be assembled right before serving, and I wanted the pastry ring to be crisp and not soggy. I also wanted the mousseline to be airy and light, and so I wasn't sure when I should bake the shell and combine the pastry cream and praline. That uncertainty did cause me a bit of anxiety, because there could be no do-overs that close to dinner.

As I worked, I had my doubts about the pastry cream (not very sweet), and I totally brain farted on my first batch of praline, processing the roasted nuts and almond butter with the sugar before I caramelized it. Once I corrected my mistake, the resulting paste seemed a little bitter in that dark caramel way, and it was hard to tell if the components would magically combined into a perfectly balanced filling, but I put my faith in Claire Saffitz and persevered.

My pate choux did not puff as high as I wished, and it was dry and crisp long before the prescribed hour in the turned-off oven was up. The chopped nuts fell off the top when I sliced it off, but I saved them to sprinkle back on later. And the mousseline did come together into a dreamy filling, light and sweet, but not too sweet. I spooned it into my pastry bag before dinner and stuck it in the fridge, ready to fill the wheel of pastry right before serving.

The result was a little more rustic looking than the photograph in the Times, and of course I have no comparison for what it should have tasted like, but ours was delicious-- crisp and creamy and nutty and sweet and caramelly. It tasted like a French pastry.

"Would you ask for it again?" is always my question for Heidi when we discuss a new dish from our kitchen. 

Tonight, Heidi turned the inquiry around. "Would you make it again?" she asked.

That? I'm not sure of. But I am glad I made it today.