Archives for posts with tag: oatmeal

In March 2013 I was sick for a week (just a run-of-the-mill virus) and on the road for the better part of a week in the back seat of a car to and from the Bay Area to Seattle. By March 11 I was back at my “day job,” busking in Berkeley BART stations two shifts a day: I leave at 7:15 in the morning and often return from my second shift around 5:00 PM, although I have been known to get home as early as 3:30. I sing about three hours a day, all I can manage without wearing my voice out.

I come home for lunch between shifts. Lunch is leftovers from last night’s dinner or toasted cheese sandwiches or peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat. Yesterday I had leftover (canned) turkey chili, leftover cornbread and a leftover roasted yam with a few raw vegetables on the side. We generally have a pot of black tea with lunch, shielding the milk pitcher from Ozzy the border collie who is quite fond of his “tea” (milk served in a saucer).

Last week I bought a bunch of carrots, a sack of blood oranges and two pounds of walnuts at the Berkeley Farmers’ Market. I no longer buy these things to whip up exotic meals: I buy them to supplement my diet that is less rich in fresh fruits and vegetables than it was a mere six months ago. Mostly, I eat the oranges out of hand: I’ve eaten three of the five with my lunch this week and one at the bus stop as a snack. Carrots can be breakfast ingredients (I’m still making Sawsan’s carrot cake oatmeal around once a week ) as can walnuts: the nut rule is almonds if I am in a hurry and walnuts if I have the spare time to crack them and dislodge them from their shells. Yesterday I fixed my boiled-in-milk oatmeal with dried cranberries, homemade candied citrus peel from last winter and fresh walnuts.

In fact, much of my culinary creativity goes into modifying my morning oatmeal. This morning I ended up throwing a couple of tablespoons of Nutella into it and reminiscing with Johnny about the chocolate cereals of my childhood, formerly known as “Cocoa Puffs” and “Cocoa Krispies” (“Count Chocula,” a late comer, doesn’t count). I added almonds for crunch and tossed in some slivered candied citrus peel, mostly orange. I enjoyed Nutella oatmeal as a change, but I probably wouldn’t eat it more than once a month, not being a chocolate-for-breakfast fiend.

In case anyone has missed my previous post on oatmeal and/or polenta for breakfast I normally cook half a cup of rolled oats in a cup of milk with a pinch of kosher salt. To this I add fruit, nuts, syrups, in various combinations: I have drafted granola to add texture. I have made a syrup of fresh ginger, dried apricots, lemon peel, sugar and water and added two teaspoons of the fruit and syrup to my oats. I sometimes combine chopped dried apricots, chopped almonds and flaked coconut. I have used many dried fruits: sour cherries, cranberries, raisins, apples, pears. I have used walnuts, almonds, pistachios, pecans and hazelnuts. I have included candied ginger. I have added maple syrup, palm syrup, turbinado sugar, homemade cherry syrup.

Food Notes: If you have them, fresh hazelnuts would be delicious in Nutella oatmeal in place of the almonds, or in addition to them. Please experiment with whatever fruits and nuts are grown in your area.

When I began this blog in 2011 I was receiving a box of produce every week from Riverdog Farm and sometimes supplementing my produce box with additional items from the Berkeley Farmers’ Market on Saturday mornings. I was painting watercolors of food subjects twice a week to illustrate what I was cooking, eating and buying. In October 2012 I discontinued my produce subscription because I could no longer spare the twenty dollars a week it took to bring all of that fresh, organically-grown produce into the house. Mid-October I took up a career of busking at the local BART station, playing and singing for tips and the occasional CD sale. By November I had added shifts at the Farmers’ Market on Center Street.

Guitar Case. 5"x 7" Pen and Ink drawing. Sharyn Dimmick

Guitar Case. 5″x 7″ Pen and Ink drawing. Sharyn Dimmick

For three and a half months I have been singing and playing guitar in public places, earning whatever passers-by choose to pay me. I do not recommend this as a way of making your living — if I did not live at my mother’s house I would certainly be on the street for more than a few hours a day. I play for two or two and a half hours a shift, seldom repeating a song, and only taking breaks to drink water, answer questions or sell CDs. I arrive promptly for my shifts, thank everyone who throws so much as a penny in my case, sing my songs in a different order everyday so that no one gets bored with hearing the same one as he or she hurries to catch their train or buy their potatoes.

I am not the greatest guitar-player in the world, but I am competent: I can accompany the types of songs I sing. I have found that daily performing takes me back to songs I learned early in my life when I spent hours listening to Joan Baez and Joni Mitchell records. I play the fingerpicked standards that all guitar students learned to play: “Make Me a Pallet on Your Floor,” which I first heard the year I lived in Ireland, and “Railroad Bill.” I play Bob Coltman’s “Before They Close the Minstrel Show” which I first heard when I was a graduate student in folklore in North Carolina. I play James Taylor’s “You Can Close Your Eyes,” which I learned in high school from some other women who played the guitar. While I have a deep repertoire of traditional folk songs I find that many songs I love are too slow for public playing: people will tolerate Joni’s “That Song About the Midway” and Sandy Denny’s “Who Knows Where the Time Goes” occasionally, but they seem to like a steady diet of acoustic blues and Bob Dylan songs.

Most musicians will tell you, to quote my friend Carol Denney, “Practicing doesn’t usually make you worse” (It can if you practice your mistakes so many times that you learn them by heart: then you have to unlearn them). It is unlikely that I have gotten worse from the daily practice of my craft in public — I now know I can play and sing for two and a half hours standing up by myself. I might get tired. My guitar might go out of tune and require retuning, but I now have the stamina to play for two and a half hours without stopping.

Back in a former life, I used to wish I was “a real musician.” I defined “a real musician” as one who plays everyday. I am perilously close to achieving that status now that I play six days a week in public — if I practice at home on the seventh day I have become “real” for that week.

Harmony 3. 5" x 7" pen, ink and watercolor pencil. Sharyn Dimmick.

Harmony 3. 5″ x 7″ pen, ink and watercolor pencil. Sharyn Dimmick.

Does it make me happy? Yes and no. I am itching for new repertory and must make the time to develop it when I am at home. I am hungry for new guitar skills (Fortunately, I am paired up with a man who can teach me licks and tricks in our spare time). I have fallen in love with the guitar style of Dave Van Ronk, plus some old guys from the 1920s whose records he learned from. At the same time, it is dispiriting to play for two hours and receive two dollars and a quarter on a day when I debuted two new songs and I gave it my all. January has not been kind to me as a busker.

The lack of fresh food means that I have few recipes to write about: every now and then I cobble together a delicious green fish curry or a curried apple, carrot and romanesco soup, but I eat a lot of pinto beans and spoon bread, scrambled eggs, peanut butter and jelly. My Farmers’ Market purchases last week were limited to two bunches of carrots, one of which I ate, Sawsan-style, grated into my morning oatmeal. The other bunch serves as crunchy food at lunch. I cook breakfast for Johnny when he’s here, make soups and bake bread, but I miss the variety of greens and citrus and roots that I complained of seeing too much of another January: now I see it as a wonderful and challenging abundance from which to work. I do sometimes look in on the wonderful blogs of others, but I don’t have the amount of free time I used to have.

I have acquired a writing student, who will start working with me in February for four weeks. I am excited about teaching Natalie Goldberg’s writing practice again.

I appreciate anyone who stops by to keep up with my story here, any subscribers or casual readers who have wondered at my long absence. It took me most of January to locate my camera battery recharger, without which I had no hope of illustrating anything. I leave you with some drawings of my old Harmony guitar, my constant companion in this latest phase of my life.

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