New year, new planner.

2014 is right around the corner. With this revelation, I was forced to retire my beloved planner, which faithfully kept me scheduled and organized for the past year, and order a replacement. While simple, this little ritual is probably one of my favorite ways to celebrate and mentally prepare for the next year. Receiving a package from a far-off state (thank you, Amazon), removing the plastic wrap, and opening that little red book for the first time brings such a sense of renewal. Within those little blank spaces for each day, there could be any number of things...tea dates with friends, job experiences, harp gigs, holiday festivities - so many potential memories, just waiting to be filled!

So here goes, 2014 - may your currently-blank dates be filled with growth, memories, and opportunity! 

I discovered these Moleskine planners in 2009, and have become addicted. 

(The cool thing about keeping a paper copy of your schedule - you have a journal of sorts, of where you went, concerts attended,  who you met with, vacations, etc.)

Cinnamon and Flowers

Having the day off work, I decided to spend some time in the kitchen making granola, and using up a plentiful supply of bananas that were beginning to look "nicely aged". Starting in on the granola, I added honey, oil, water, and vanilla extract to 6 cups of oats, all usual ingredients in my preferred granola routine. Reaching up to take out the vanilla bottle, I caught sight of a small bottle labeled "Food Grade Essential Oil - Cinnamon."
"I like cinnamon," I thought. "I bet that would be great in granola." Famous last thought. Taking out the small eyedropper from the bottle, I added about half an eyedropper full of cinnamon oil. "That's not a lot of liquid," I said to myself, "better add a little more." Drop, drop, drop....perhaps 10 more. (Bear in mind yours truly had never used the aforementioned cinnamon oil before this fateful day.)

While stirring the granola mixture, I realized it was rather fragrant. Really, really fragrant. Oh dear. I tried some.
I don't like cinnamon as much as I previously thought. Next thought: "Well, maybe it will mellow out once I toast it in the oven, right?" Wrong.
After half an hour subjected to 275 degrees, the net effect was even stronger scented granola, and the pervasive cinnamon aroma seeping into the entire house.

Curious, I questioned Google on what exactly is the ratio of powdered cinnamon to cinnamon oil. Turns out it's about 1 tablespoon of cinnamon to one drop of oil. Huh. That's right folks, I added the equivalent of nearly a cup of cinnamon to my unsuspecting granola.

I am now a little wiser in the ways of the kitchen - today's lesson: essential oil is stronger than the original ground spice. Much stronger.

Let's just say that I won't be eating much of that granola...but it makes excellent potpourri.

Don't let the bottle size fool you. There's a lot of flavor in here.

In other non-essential-oil-related news, my porch garden is blooming! 

 Morning Glories (flanked by garlic and onions)

These are one of the strangest flowers I've ever seen - they're Peruvian Daffodils. I bought them as bulbs on a whim at Winco, and I've been quite pleased with the results.

'Till next time, may your cooking be sweet and your gardens plentiful!

The Album

Today I woke barking like a seal, and being in food retail, I decided to save the good people of Corvallis from my sickness and stay home. Bleh.

I am forcing myself to not be productive....I suppose dishes, laundry, and catching up with deskwork can wait. Instead, I found myself on the laptop, making a folder of pictures to print for an eventual wedding album.

Growing up, I have fond memories of going to the album shelf, and pulling out the large, white album from my parent's wedding...ah, it was like science fiction, going back in time to a place where I didn't exist, yet the people seemed so eerily familiar. (And you have to admit, the fashions of a few decades ago were fabulous. Exactly like my own wedding will look to the next generation...I even used that trendy sage green color you'll be able to find someday in a Wikipedia article entitled "Fad Colors of 2012.") But really, I very much enjoyed leafing through the pages of my parent's album, seeing how the family looked back before I was born. Fascinating stuff.

Therefore, I must make an album, so my child can someday say "Mom! You really chose sage green?!"

Two thoughts

1. The sun is out!
2. I love tiny kitchens.

For the sun-deprived winter Oregonian, the first needs no explanation.

The second thought, however, is something I've realized over the past few months. I made pad thai several nights ago, and for anyone familiar with the dish, it can be fairly messy to accomplish. Those fatal words in the recipe - "toss to combine" - get me every time. (A piece of chicken usually tries to fly behind the stove...or a stray piece of rice noodle makes its daring getaway toward the fridge.)

The pad thai was delicious, but the kitchen was in sad shape. Thai bits strewn across the stovetop, prep bowls, cutting boards, and utensils piled on the already-small countertop, and shards of peanut scattered willy-nilly across the floor.

Twenty minutes later, I emerged victorious - dishes handwashed, stovetop cleaned, counters wiped, floor swept & mopped. Amazing.

I love cleaning tiny spaces.

(of course, cooking in tiny spaces is another matter...but at least it's easy to clean up.)

the results of the kitchen mess:

 view from the balcony this morning:

stovetop discovery

Today I discovered two things I found enlightening - the mysterious innards of a microwave popcorn bag, and another way the previous generations survived without microwaves.

Dearest Hubby and I don't have a microwave due to our tiny countertop space, and our personal challenge to see how long we can go without one. (Since we have a toaster oven, we've gotten along just fine so far.) However, I love microwave popcorn. I am of the generation that isn't even aware you can make popcorn without a microwave...unless it's one of those stovetop tinfoil-frying pan contraptions of my distant childhood.

For some inexplicable reason, I have several bags of microwave popcorn in my cabinet, languishing until the day we find our toaster oven to be incapable, and get a microwave. (That day is long in coming.) I met a strong hankering for popcorn this afternoon, and got experimental. 

Seizing the kitchen shears, I attacked a hapless popcorn bag, and dumped the contents into a saucepot. (It turns out what I previously believed to be a type of microwave magic labelled "Orville Redenbacher's" is instead a rather un-magical combo of popcorn kernels, butter, and oil. How disappointing.)

Remembering some faint idea of needing oil to pop corn, I added a few sloshes of olive oil to the pot, put on the lid, and turned on the burner. 

After a few minutes, vigorously shaking the pot so as not to burn the mixture, I attained my goal. Lo and behold, popcorn! 

There you have it. My last holdout example of "food only achievable with a microwave" has died.

I need to buy popcorn kernels in bulk at Winco and further experiment - I bet it's less expensive as well. And I can stop measuring popcorn by the bag; I could even make a cup at a time of popped corn! Amazing.

(And yes, all of you who already knew this, I really didn't figure this out until I was in my 20's. Why don't they teach us this stuff in school?)

My glorious discovery:

(You can never have too much salt. Or so I thought. After a few dashes of kosher salt, I remembered this stuff comes pre-salted. I had to break out the colander and shake some of it off.)

...And here it is!

After long contemplating the blog movement, I've finally joined...so here it is, the "Harp & Home" page. It remains to be seen what direction the page shall take, but it shall be an exciting journey! (If you like cooking, housecleaning, bakery work, and music, that is. In other words, it has the potential to be rather dull to some. But hey, if it strikes your fancy, or if you just like to know what I'm up to, read on!)

Welcome!