Aromatic Things

Orange Blossoms in Phoenix, Arizona

Years pass and we often fail to note just when it is that the smell of orange blossoms punctuates the air. The aromatic beauty far exceeds the appearance of the flowers that are often difficult to see when passing through a neighborhood, or maybe the scent is so intoxicating that with senses swirling, we simply can’t find the focus to identify where the smell is wafting in from. This is that week where, at least this year, the orange blossoms are making themselves known.

From walking in fields of lavender to strolling through rose gardens, nothing in the realm of fragrances has quite the same impact on us as this incredible sweet scent. Maybe if we lived among the sperm whales and could collect their discarded ambergris, we’d consider that to be the most amazing of bouquets within the environment we were living in, but being relegated to two-legged land-based creatures, I believe Caroline and I are mostly in agreement that orange blossoms rule the world of smells from our perspective. Okay, she did try to say the petrichor and creosote aroma that arises with Arizona’s summer rains might be equal in pleasure to orange blossoms, but I’m sticking with these citrus blooms as being one of the greatest olfactory stimulations that grace my senses every spring.

Missing from this blog entry is just what this smell is like, but I’ve never really figured out a viable language for conveying the various scents that would allow someone else to understand the aroma I was describing. Of course, if the fragrance I was attempting to encapsulate linguistically only required me to compare something to something else, such as we do with wine where we describe woodsy cinnamon notes with chocolatey overtones and a hint of citrus, maybe that would make this easier but orange blossoms are in a universe of perfection that is beyond simple comparisons.

Congo Mask Exhibit at The MIM

Congo Mask Exhibition at the Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix, Arizona

Last year, we had hoped to visit the Musical Instrument Museum a few miles from home to take in an exhibit that traveled to the US across history from more than 8,700 miles away. The MIM, as it’s known, was featuring masks and some of the musical instruments that are used by the people of the Congo in Africa. The exhibit was supposed to end many months ago, but due to the pandemic, it was extended well into 2021.

Congo Mask Exhibition at the Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix, Arizona

As a matter of fact, we were supposed to head out of town this weekend, but Facebook caught my eye with a post from the MIM featuring the face of an old friend I used to work with over 20 years ago. His name is Frank Thompson, but more about him in a minute. We’ve been in the rest of the museum enough times that I didn’t really need to spend our morning in the main exhibit and wanted to linger checking out these artifacts from the Congo. You might recognize part of the instrument above as a finger piano, also known as a Kalimba which is from the Mbira family of instruments originating out of Zimbabwe. This particular piece is called a Kisantchi and was used by the Songye people; it’s made of a thin piece of wood as the foundation for the plucking element, while the gourd acts as a resonator.

Congo Mask Exhibition at the Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix, Arizona

These are some of the memories I’ve chosen to travel with me towards that day when I will have experienced my last moments as a human being in this form. Should I be so lucky, Caroline and I might one day, 20 years from now, go through some of these blog posts and have the chance to celebrate how fortunate we were to have witnessed these pieces of art with our own eyes, and so I continue to blog and share.

Congo Mask Exhibition at the Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix, Arizona

Short of being able to afford the time and money to visit the Congo for ourselves and arrive just as any particular celebration would be happening for us to see these types of costumes used in their native environment, this is the next best thing.

Caroline Wise at the Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix, Arizona

Let’s get back to Frank Thompson and his project AZ Rhythm Connection. Frank’s here today leading a socially distanced drumming session, and the idea of a group activity after our year mostly isolated had us coming to the MIM and skipping out on a weekend trip that would have taken us up near Sedona or down to Douglas, Arizona. Seeing Frank on a glorious sunny day and having him guide us through some drumming patterns was heartwarming. Caroline and I each had a drum supplied by Frank, as did the other 20 of us for the 11:30 session.

Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix, Arizona

Everything to this point was perfect. While Caroline visited the gift shop, I dipped into the concert hall in which we have seen approximately 70 acts over the years since the MIM opened. This was the first time in a year of isolation that my emotions of loss hit so hard. I took seat number 10 in the fourth row, where we’ve sat on many occasions, and felt the solitude of a place that should be vibrating with life. While the player piano bleated out some crap renditions of pop standards to a weak accompanying track, I thought about the occasions we’d talked with fellow music enthusiasts seated around us. The spotlight illuminated emptiness that wasn’t to be filled with the gongs of some Gamelan music, the cello of Interpreti  Veneziani, or the modern classical sounds of Kronos Quartet. We’ve experienced Dick Dale here, had our first encounter with the throat singing of Huun-Huur-Tu, and enjoyed the Ukrainian folk music group DakhaBrakha, and the Tuareg musicians from the Sahara Desert region of northern Mali known as Tinariwen.

Today, a bit of life is being had at the Musical Instrument Museum, but what it really shared with us today is how empty the void is. Like the masks in the exhibit, there is nobody behind them, and here in the museum, the general public is largely missing. The music echoes out of the past and might tease our memories, but the vibrancy of those who bring us into the ecstasy of rhythmic celebration is sadly not to be experienced right now. And while this has been true for the entirety of the past year, this was our first occasion to confront this reality with our own senses.

2,000 Miles In A Circle

Sunrise in Phoenix

In the ongoing saga of pandemic isolation, today marks the moment when I’ve walked over 2,000 miles in circles around our neighborhood. Having such a glorious sunrise for the occasion created a sense of celebration. Walking over 4 million steps since last March needed to be equated to something, so I checked the handy-dandy online maps and saw that I’ve walked the equivalent of the distance from Phoenix, Arizona, to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Now, that feels like I’ve accomplished something.

Birthday Stylin’

Caroline Wise in Mesa, Arizona

Who needs birthday cake when you can have corndogs? While Caroline and I were up in Oregon a new Korean corndog joint called Two Hands opened a few doors down from H-Mart in Mesa. When I saw this last week I held back and didn’t go in figuring Caroline would like to try them too, nor did I share the news with her. So today on her 21st birthday, oops I mean 53rd, we needed to visit H-Mart again, because not only did we need more provisions for sundubu but Caroline likes looking at the Korean goods in their stylish packaging. And as soon as we arrived it was clear that we were not going to pass up the opportunity to try a reinvented classic. From left to right you have the German corndog holding the box containing a Crispy Rice Dog, a Potato Dog covered with Two Hands Dirty Sauce and Cheetos powder, and finally the Two Hands Dog with a drizzle of sweet ranch sauce. All three were great but the Potato Dog was greaterer. We’ll be back.

Now, what about the packaging comment above? Caroline isn’t only enamored with Koren packaging as any Asian, South Asian, or Mexican packaging will draw in her interest. It’s the bright colors and often cute or humorous graphics that are used in the design. Our dominant grocery stores are boring with limited selections although they do feature 100 variations on some puffed grain sugary cereal. Essentially they are created for people with narrow expectations when it comes to their palate. But in other countries, they aren’t afraid to put cheese and corn in ice cream, use red beans in cakes, or roll corn dogs in French fry bits topped with Magic Cheeto Dust. Innovation in teas, drinks, and fast food is big business in Asia where a ballooning population of young people is willing to try non-traditional things on a quest to be hip. While we celebrate the comeback of the McRib or a variation on a chicken sandwich, places like India have been mashing up traditional items into Chinese dishes to create Indo-Chinese dishes and Korea fills up a fish-looking pastry with purple yam ice-cream topped with Fruity Pebbles. (By the way, the ice cream is called Ah-Boong if you are interested.) So, take the vibrant colors, peculiar ingredients, and playful packaging and Caroline is super happy to explore what’s available and on occasion try some rather peculiar things, such as the squid-flavored Lays potato chips she recently had.

So John, is that seriously how you celebrated your wife’s birthday? Well, yes. We’ve done dinner at gourmet restaurants, I’ve given her an extraordinary number of gifts for her 40th birthday, 40 as a matter of fact. We’ve gone to Disneyland, Disney World, and Euro Disney to mark the occasion of her birth. Cakes? We’ve had fancy and plain but Korean corndogs are something out of the ordinary so why be ordinary? If you marry someone extraordinary you should do things and share times that step out of the mundane such as that year we went snowshoeing in Yellowstone for our wedding anniversary. Someday we’ll look back and cherish this memory of our first ever encounter with Korean corndogs and it’ll make us smile in much the same way as when I posted that photo of Caroline sitting on an outdoor toilet on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Okay, there was also that time up in Alaska during a white water rafting trip where I caught her reading the paper sitting on the can 🙂

How Do You Do Food?

Pantry of John and Caroline Wise in Phoenix, Arizona

In only 95 days, Caroline and I will have been self-isolating for one year. First of all, the definition of self-isolation for us is along the lines of being aware of our proximity to others, always wearing a mask when near others, walking for exercise much more than ever before, being aware of how much sunlight we are getting while supplementing it with vitamin D, not being as spontaneous to go places as we’d like to, staying out of as many businesses as possible, reducing how often we shop in person, and essentially eliminating visits to restaurants.

What this post is really all about, though, is our relationship with food during the pandemic. We started hoarding food (I hate to use that word, but it is what it is) in January. Back then, I’d say it was more like putting some extra things to the side just in case what was happening in China started spreading. By February, I’d have to admit that I hit the panic button a little, and unbeknownst to Caroline, I started squirreling stuff away in the nooks and crannies of our cabinets as I shifted stuff and packed food supplies in an ever-increasing density. When March rolled around and the first wave of panic buying hit the general public, our freezer was packed solid, and I really couldn’t reasonably store anything else in our kitchen. I was guessing that we had enough food on hand to last us a solid 90 days.

Pantry of John and Caroline Wise in Phoenix, Arizona

We then encountered a logistical problem; we didn’t know where, in 9 cabinets spread between 19 shelves, we’d find stuff. The fridge was easy because that was all fresh food that needed to move out before it rotted. We needed an inventory, and that’s just what we created. A simple affair built in a spreadsheet with over 400 line items. We put a piece of tape at the corner of each door that had food behind it, numbered it, and counted the shelves from the bottom up, starting with the number 1. If we needed a jar of pickled asparagus, we could see that there should be a bottle in cabinet 6, shelf 2. This became our grocery store.

When we needed fresh foods I tended to try and use Costco as much as possible as they early on asked customers to wear masks and put up plastic dividers between customers and cashiers. Even though it’s only two of us, 10 lbs of onions could be gone through, and usually, only one onion would go bad while we worked through them. Six avocadoes paired with two containers of cherry tomatoes to make tomato/avocado salads to accompany meals or to eat for lunch. Two dozen eggs last us three weekends as we only eat a hot breakfast on Saturday and Sunday to make up for not being able to go out for a traditional breakfast at some favorite local joint. Fruit, some veggies, and meat were mostly coming from Costco. Things we wanted in smaller amounts, as we really couldn’t eat 4 lbs of bell peppers fast enough, were gotten from a nearby grocery store, typically right after opening or after 8:00 p.m., so I could avoid the crowds. Caroline very rarely, if ever, went to the store with me during the first 4 or 5 months of the pandemic.

Pantry of John and Caroline Wise in Phoenix, Arizona

While the kitchen is my responsibility, the data is Caroline’s. As I’d ask where the chipotle peppers in adobo sauce are, she’d give me the coordinates, and then she’d remove it from the inventory, eventually adding the item to the “Removed” page in our spreadsheet. This week, the “Removed” page surpassed the “In Inventory” page, so I thought I’d take a closer look at it, and this is what I found.

The first item was consumed and removed from inventory on March 24, 2020. Looking at what followed, I am surprised by how much we’ve consumed or, in some cases, how I thought we ate more of something, but the data doesn’t support it. Somehow, we’ve eaten 4.6 lbs of nopalitos, aka cactus pads. Not too surprising we’ve used 9.5 lbs of bacon. In no particular order, we’ve consumed 12 lbs of canned black beans, an amount of butter I’d rather not share, only 6 lbs of chicken, 19 quarts of chicken stock (we make a lot of bean dishes starting with dried beans), 24 filet mignon, 4.5 lbs of ground beef, 28 hotdogs, 2.6 gallons of pasta sauce, 24 pork chops, 50 ounces of pozole, 4.5 lbs of prunes, over 15 lbs of brown rice, almost a gallon of salsa, countless tomatoes, avocadoes, six cans of spam, nuts and seeds for the roughly 12 lbs of granola I make a month and probably about a gallon of soy milk per month to accompany it. I also know we’ve been through about 4 lbs of crunchy stuff that’s an integral part of Burmese salads, 5.5 lbs of coffee beans, eight cans of enchilada sauce, and 13 packages of preserved Chinese vegetables.

With more than 400 line items, often with multiple units of particular things, we need to keep in mind what’s languishing and at risk of being forgotten lest we have to throw a spoiled product away. The inventory isn’t enough to keep us aware of how things move out of our kitchen, so every couple of weeks, Caroline sends me the updated list that I scour to find things to throw into our meal plan. At this point, since fresh food is easily available in our markets, using some foods that we collected early on that have longer shelf lives, such as our 24 ounces of soy curls meat substitute or nearly 2 pounds of canned ground beef, is becoming a challenge. We loathe throwing food away, though, and sooner or later, we’ll get to these ingredients, but with fresh options easily at hand, it’s a bit difficult.

Pantry of John and Caroline Wise in Phoenix, Arizona

The point of my blog entry here is that we have never been so aware of what and how much we eat on a regular basis. That wasn’t possible when the majority of our meals came from restaurants. Had you asked me a year ago what the percentages were, I probably would have said that 20-30% of our meals were at restaurants, but now, after so many months of cooking and cleaning dishes, I’d say that probably 75% of our meals were prepared by someone else.

To this day, we still do not opt for convenience by purchasing fully prepared foodstuffs aside from pasta sauce, some soups, or pasta. As much as possible, we use whole foods, starting with fresh, before we resort to frozen or canned. Today in our freezer are nearly 5 lbs of walleye filets, 5 lbs of perch, 9 lbs of ribeyes from Texas, a lamb roast, 4 lbs of pork belly, skirt steaks, filet mignon, chicken thighs, various sausages, scallops, and ground beef. Our pantry is still overflowing with a bunch of Chinese veggies, dried matsutake, porcini, boletes, red reishi, and morel mushrooms, six flavors of spam, and a bunch of other things that came from the shelves that others don’t typically shop from.

Where to go from here? I want an app that follows my eating habits and brings me into new food experiences. Finding recipes from other countries requires us to have an idea of what we are looking for when we may not have a clue as to what’s popular in the homes of the people from Pohnpei, for example. While we have almost every spice available in one of our cabinets, and I’m not afraid to shop at Eastern European, Middle Eastern, Asian, South Asian, African, and Latin American stores, I still feel that our reach into the various ethnic cuisines from around the globe is too limited. We have the financial resources to explore, but without the general curiosity of the masses for something similar, it doesn’t seem like there’s a market yet for tasting authentic flavors from distant lands.

Settling In

Phoenix, Arizona sky in fall

The trees are giving up their leaves late this year; not that that means it’s true, it’s just my impression. A calm morning breeze is busy cleaning the tree in front of me, and although it’s only 13 days until the official start of winter, I’ve taken up my place on our balcony enjoying the pleasant 73-degree temperature (23c) that promises to not go above 77 (25c). It’s just beautiful out here today, with me reflecting on the calm of both the weather and the hoped-for relief from stress that accompanies the end of vacation.

The falling leaves often create two sounds: the first is the collision with other leaves on their way to Earth, and the second is their landing on it. Those sounds are preceded by the swoosh of wind in the leaves that are staying attached to the tree for an indeterminate length of time, holding fast against the air that is playing a kind of Jenga with nature. The other background sounds are the ever-present road noises from tires that roar while speeding by and the occasional songs from nearby birds. To some extent, I’m able to blur the traffic sounds into my memories of the ocean crashing onto the shore. For that moment, I have another bit of time in Oregon, next to the sea.

Punctuating the din is the passing motorcycle or the aggressive exhaust of a car that breaks the spell of meditation I am indulging in when I should be writing. Then, a dove with its distinctive whistling-while-flying sound flutters by to land for a second before taking off again, carrying its whistle along as it goes. A lone grackle bleats out its screech and then falls silent as nothing responds to its call. Similarly, my mind seems to fall silent following my call to head out here and write.

The carniceria at our corner has stoked the fires of its charcoal grill and its distinctive smell wafts over on the wind; just thinking of what might be cooking has me thinking of food and not words. I know that this is somewhat futile, but on such a beautiful day, after realizing that I could be sitting out here working, I’m determined to give it a go until I figure out how my time could be better used.

Maybe the fact of it all is that I want this time to charge my batteries by feeling the breeze on my face and arms as I listen to the little clicky sounds of the leaves dropping in on me. For the entire week after our return from vacation, I was catching up with the tasks that are required to keep life flowing at home. Today can be considered my day off. Then, just as I think I’m out here for daydreaming, Caroline lets me know it’s time for lunch and that I need to offer the kitchen my attention.