Day 295, January 4, 2020

New Resolutions

Tonight's soundtrack: Joe Pass and Niel-Henning Ørsted Pederson, Umbria Jazz, Italy, 1991

It is the first blog post of the new year. I suppose in case I look back, I should note that Tony Rice passed away on Christmas Day, the vaccine started distribution, albeit slowly, and the new variant of Covid-19 found in Britain has spread to the US and various other countries. That's it for the quick recap.

It is hard to know what to do on a holiday when all the traditional routines are upset. It moves one out of the comfort of familiarity, and I could easily see one moving into complete and utter apathy and doing nothing, or veering into extravagant compensation and populating the yard with inflatable snow men and mounting reindeer on the roof.

Our holiday fell into a gentle moderation without too much of the sometimes overcompensation for my failings as a father with gift giving, and our meals were gentle tributes, nods if you will, to the traditions of our families. There were a lot of Zoom meetings with various permutations of family, and several afternoons sitting by the wood stove reading books. It was a quiet and pleasing week and a half off.

I've never been a new year's resolution type of person, but it was fun to read Woody Guthrie's resolutions, and while I haven't really made statements as such, I fantasize about doing so. Mostly, they are about productivity, finally putting together that poetry book, returning to fiction, building that footrest out of plywood and 2x4s to put under my desk, writing a song a week, things like that, because maybe productivity is a measure of worth, or something like that.

In the absence of productivity, time can compress and what seems like only a year since you last had the chimney swept suddenly becomes three or four. So, then I start thinking about tasks to accomplish in the new year. Cleaning out the dryer lint from the dryer vent. Installing hand rails on the stairs going upstairs. Painting the bathroom closet door. Making a will. Shifting to this way of thinking, life becomes reduced to just a series of tasks. I suppose it does make it easier to feel like progress has been made, some kind of goal has been attained if I could reach those life goals.

However, I would prefer to lean more towards trying to find ways to find meaning in life, and maybe, some happiness in there too. When I was younger I tended to gravitate to the sensation of melancholy gravitas, and it became a kind of habit, as if I thought meaning could only be accompanied with that ennui fused sense of sullen artistry or self loathing (as if they were one and the same). As I've gotten older, nearly the age when I can be teased for my age, I have allowed myself more of the joy in things, in realizing that I've always enjoyed the joy in things. Why not embrace that? Playing music makes me happy, and completing an album or playing a show before hundreds is great if it happens, but not the reason why I play. Hmm, I wonder if that is the definition of a dilettante?

Lately, that has taken the form of food. One of my childhood favorites is bindaetteok, which are mung bean pancakes. It has been, and perhaps always will be, a pursuit to recreate the bindaetteok of my childhood. The modern era has simplified things with bindaetteok mix, but like western pancakes, the stuff out of a box just isn't the same. So, working from my mom's recommendation I started with organic green mung beans from Red Fire North's farm stand. Those are soaked for 24 hours, and after soaking you squeeze fistfuls of beans popping the yellow beans from the green shells, and with some careful sifting, you can pour off the shells that mostly float above the beans. The beans are blended in a food processor (when I was little my mom used a blender). I pre-browned some turkey meat, and in small batches mixed in some Stop and Shop kimchee. 

So right off the bat, you can tell there are some compromises. The bindaetteok of my childhood had homemade kimchee and pork... but I have to say, tonight's batch was my best yet. Almost as important as the ingredients is the temperature of the pan and the right amount of oil, and tonight, despite my frenzy of having two frying pans going, making vegetarian and turkey versions, and a soup going, it came out great!

A traditional Korean new year's dish is tteokguk, a rice cake soup. Since it is still the first week of the new year, I thought I'd celebrate with a bowl. Sadly, my tteokguk is still a work in progress. I have learned that the Stop and Shop box of bone broth is not the same thing as my mother's bone broth. My mother's broth is whiteish, almost clear, and this was dark and tasted like burned bones. But I did eat the rice cakes and that was some consolation. I will just have to try again another day.

So, it appears my new year's resolution is to continue to refine and perfect my bindaetteok and tteokguk. And one of my kids sent some japchae noodles, so it looks like I'll need to try making that soon too. That, and coming up with a song on guitar that I can send my dad so he can add violin on top. 

...and the book projects... the album... more reading... the dryer vent, and more love.

Happy New Year! 

I hope you are all safe and well,

Leo