A Day Onboard the M/V Kalakala - Awe-Filled, Terrifying, and 70 Years of Ferry Funk on My Ass!

First off, if you want good photos, go to Blue Lou Logan's page.  There are two links below to guide you.

As Lou and I both blogged earlier, we headed down to Tacoma to lend owner and visionary Steve Rodrigues in his quest to save the world's only Art Deco/Streamlined ferry, the M/V Kalakala, a long-abandoned piece of the State of Washington's history.  It served solidly until...

You know what?  Lou does a much better job at describing our day.
http://blueloulogan.blogspot.com/2011/06/kalaka-update-aboard-for-faith-first.html

I will say that from the sketchy gangplank over another, half-sunken ship (of unknown, iron-rotting vintage), all the way across the makeshift gangway of 2x12"s, I had a creepy feeling that this was not my first time to encounter this ship.  Granted, I had actually met the neglected maiden before, way out on Neah Bay, one day, by chance, when Mom and I felt like driving to the northwesternmost point in the lower 48.  On the way back from the least-welcoming aboriginal reservation on the planet, we spotted something fishy out to port: that beautiful art deco ferry, looking like she was headed out to sea.  And she was!  She had broken loose her stern line, and was held to her port by only one line at her bow.  Without both lines, she would head out of the Strait of Juan de Fuca and into open seas.  We watched a man kayak out to her (who turned out to be Steve Rodrigues), and quickly found out that he was her owner, and was trying to save her from ending up beached in India for the scavengers.  He's still aiming for that.  Today, though, was filled with promise and love, and Lou and I both felt that returning to help Steve in any way we could was worth giving up a few Saturdays a month.

We have our assignment: restoring the Captain's Quarters on the Flying Bridge Deck, which requires quite a bit of dum-dee-dum art deco carpentry (I have more practice designing and building theatre sets than my scholarly husband, but he's better with the manual labor).

You guys know that I have no Ghost Hunter bones in me.  I believe in the here and now.  Something felt - I won't say wrong, just "off" on that boat, or at certain points.  Unfortunately, on the starboard side of the promenade deck and the Grand Ballroom, where we're doing most of our prep work, are two places that I don't ever want to be alone.

So, read all about the experience from my husband at:
http://blueloulogan.blogspot.com/2011/06/kalaka-update-aboard-for-faith-first.html

She Needs Our Help! Cleaning Up the M/V Kalakala, Washington's Art Deco Ferry, 6/11/2011

 

The M/V Kalakala comes through the fog







Coming through the Ballard Locks, on her way to Neah Bay




Coming through the Ballard Locks, on her way to Neah Bay

 The world's only art deco ferry, M/V Kalakala, is calling for all hands this weekend to help this Saturday, 6/11/2011, from 11:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.

As you can see by the photos (below), we might not win the fight with Mother Nature, but we'll fly our flag high until the Sound swallows her whole.  And she better go down in one piece.  The thought of her windows and staircases being auctioned off breaks my heart.

My husband, Lou, follows her cause more closely, so click on the link below to find out more about this beautiful ship, and its place in Washington, Alaska, and California's histories.

http://blueloulogan.blogspot.com/2011/06/kalakala-update-hope-in-tourism.html

http://www.kalakala.org/history/history_timeline.html

Really, I Was on the Boat!

Always safe, wearing my life vest, even though I seem to be the only person in the entire race who wears one.  That, and I can tread water for an hour.  I may freeze, but I won't sink.  I was having so much fun on the bow of the boat, watching the sky change colors.  For the first time, I wasn't scared on the boat.

We're not watching the sun go down, since we're facing southeast.  It's a reflection off of 2 Union Square in downtown Seattle.  You can see me down there with my legs and chin hanging over the bow, watching us the sunset backwards and the other boats.  That was my candy spot - I loved that.

That was my "grunge" costume.  Three torn layers of shirts, and the prize of my 21-strong Doc collection, my purple oxfords.  Sorry to disappoint, but this dyke doesn't own a stitch of flannel.

Grunge Night at The Duck Dodge! Sailing, Swilling, and Swooning!

One of my dearest friends, Dan, owns a sailboat.  The Mirus, as she's called (I have no idea why), at 28', is big enough for day sails or weekends, or even for a week to the San Juan Islands.  Mostly, though, she hangs out around Lake Union, Seattle's insane wind gyroscope.  The weather, the wind, they change in minutes on this fairly small lake that's populated by houseboats and moorage, and surrounded on three sides by substantial hills.

Which is why The Duck Dodge is so popular with local sailors.  Bring your boat, bring your friends, and bring a bottle of rum.  At least one. Three is best.  Okay, I also brought my fancy new, red, white, and blue leather, Croatian cherry brandy canteen filled with bourbon, and just enough water to let the liquor bloom.  Oh, where was I?

The Duck Dodge is one big boozefest.  It's scary to have 3 million dollar, world-class racing yachts captained by a guy holding a can of PBR coming up fast on your port side.  Seriously.  The course changes weekly, which no one knows until the Committee boat hangs out the course on the sides of their boat.  It's easy to spot the Committee Boat - it's the only one that's not a sailboat.

There are four classes, with starting times five minutes apart: Fast Boats (competition boats, usually crewed by drunks in matching Helly/Hansen rain gear), Half Fast Boats (wannabe competition boats - just determined enough to capsize), Cruising and Slower Boats (that's us - the "We Don't Give a Shit About Winning Another Duck Sticker, We're Just Having Fun and Trying to Avoid Shoot the Moon and That Bumblebee Boat"), and Dinghy Class.  Each week, there's a different theme: Grunge, Sesame Street, Prom, Pirates, Toga, Mardi Gras, and every guy's favorite, Duct Tape Night.

There seem to be only two rules in the Duck Dodge. 1. Don't hit another boat.  This rule is only loosely followed by the big racing yachts.  They not only take on each other, but will run right over any boat in the lower classes.  There have been collisions and capsizings in all classes, but I feel that the fault usually falls on the racing yachts.  The second rule is that you are never allowed to make one of the lake's resident ducks change their own course.  Not The Duck, those obnoxious amphibious tourist traps - it's open season on those jackasses.  The rule applies to actual quack-quack ducks.  You'd think they'd figure out by now, though, that Tuesday evenings are not a good night to go for a little ducky family cruise.  I did actually see one of the racing yachts, Shoot the Moon, purposely graze a duck last night.  I have no problem naming names here - that boat is a fucking menace!  WTF, right?!  I was yelling at them, but they had their eyes on the prize, I suppose.  Shoot the Moon and this black and yellow bumblebee boat (can't remember the name) have caused bumps, bruises, and a few cracked hulls in their quest to win the most ridiculous boat race in history.  Seriously, there have been a number of accidents, and capsizings.  My first time out, we watched Shoot the Moon come around hard at the course buoy, actually bumping a guy in a dinghy.  This boat just pisses me off.

Back on The Mirus, I had my slit-long-sleeved shirt, with a tank top over that and a vest on tope of that, with my holiest jeans and favorite purple Docs.  Lou and Dan weren't really in costume, but we will all be next week: Sesame Street Night.  I'll have to do some research for this one...  Week after, though, is Pirate Night - you KNOW that Lou and I will be armed and corseted.  Well, he'll be armed, I'll be corseted.  And armed.

So, Dan, Lou, and I were on our own, not even Pancho, Dan's dog, came with us.  I love when the boat isn't crowded - when it's just my husband, my best friend, and his dog.  FYI, Lou will argue, but I AM a better jiber than him.  Totally.  I'm also not bad with steering or manning the traveler.  Shockingly, we actually finished in not bad time.  We are usually dead last - even behind the dinghies, so we just give up and go link up for the post-race party with the rest of the boats.  You should see it - sailors swinging from one boat to the next, everybody looking for a boat with a head, sharing stories and flasks.

I have a fear of water beyond imagination.  It came about at some point during my 20s.  I have no idea when, or why.  It just is.  So, in the past, I've been a little wigged out on Dan's boat, but I told myself that I wasn't going to be scared last night, took a Klonopin, and clutched my flask.  By the end of the night, I was straddling the bowsprit, watching the black water beneath my swinging purple Docs.  I think I'll be okay now, as long as we don't get in the way of Shoot the Moon.

Anyone interested in a more technical recap of last night's events should check out my huband Lou's (aka Blue Lou Logan) blog at http://www.blueloulogan.blogspot.com/.

Doing a Little Gardening, and a Little More Drinking

Yesterday, I opened the gigantic bag of potting soil, filled up my big yellow bowl, grabbed a bunch of plastic pots that my mom gave me, and took it all inside to watch Fame on Ovation.  No Bruno, no Doris.  That sucked - it wasn't the same.

So, I grabbed my seed packets and commenced potting.  Zucchino (round zucchini that are so cute!), eperone, carrots, aubergine (eggplant), okay, I am totally drawing a blank here.  I can't remember what else.  I had the foresight this time to write the names on each pot, so I could identify it later.  Didn't do that with the first batch, so I have no idea what the hell is in each pot yet.

Being me, I was doing this in full hair and makeup, dressed to go out, in knee-high boots with 3 inch heels.  Somehow, my clutzy ass managed to not get anything on me OR the rug.  There was a nosy cat, though, who I had to chase down to wipe the dirt off of her nose.  Olive Snook is our nosy, obnoxious cat (hence the name, for you Pushing Daisies fans).

It was Happy Hour with Lou's co-workers.  He's usually the only guy, and Tabitha and I, who don't work there, are warmly welcomed.  Right off the bat, it was just Suzanne, Lou, and I.  I have such a great time chatting with her.  No one noticed that Miriam and her fantastic daughter Elizabeth were right next to us for a half hour.  It was nice to finally meet Miriam, and I loved chatting with Elizabeth for quite a while.  When the weather gets better, we'll have a cookout on our deck with everyone, and I'll invite the Carlsen clan over, too, Scallywag, their Springer Spaniel, too.  The birds have to stay at home - I'm afraid of birds.  Seriously.  I was maimed by a rooster when I was a kid, never got over it.  Even going down the bird aisle at Petsmart freaks me out.

Oh, and how could I forget one of my favorite chicks, J'Nai, Lou's carpool buddy. She's a fabulously sassy little thing from Atlanta, whose kids can't seem to keep their clothes on.  They're young, it's okay.  Outside of my family, she is the biggest fan of my cooking, and I occasionally send leftovers with Lou for her, too.  I still owe her a dozen muffins.  My mixed berry corn muffins are like crack for her.  She is so damned cute, and always smiling.  How can you not want to squidge that?

Okay, I'll wrap up for now.  I have another post to do.

'Zanne

Blue Lou Logan for President in 2012! No Plunder without Booty!

My awesomely piratical husband, Lou, officially announced his candidacy yesterday for President in 2012.  He is supported by the Parcel o' Rogues party, which proposes that we, as a nation, go back to move forward.  Please read his announcement here.

Chili and Cornbread

I wish I could give you guys a recipe tonight, but the chili just happened, and the cornbread recipe came from http://www.allrecipes.com/ (although I substituted the white sugar for brown, and used butter and a cast iron skillet instead of canola oil and a cake pan).

I used 1.5 pounds of thinly-sliced steak instead of the usual ground beef, fire-roasted tomatoes, vine-ripened tomatoes, 2 heads of garlic, my own herb-infused garlic oil, cracked cardamom seeds, one yellow onion (to give my family a break from those vicious purple ones), turmeric, cardamom, oregano from my window garden, peppers...  I told you that I can't give you a recipe.  It really does just happen i nmy kitchen.  This, that, more salt...  I always get Lou's final approval - his taste buds are more specific than mine - he can nail it in one bite - he knows what's missing.  I love those last 20 minutes in the kitchen with him, pouring, shaking, pinching, plucking...  Don't be dirty, kids.  We're still talking food!

Lou gives a ride to work to the sweetest woman, a young mother of two small ones, and she eats anything that I cook and always returns my Tupperware.  J'Nai.  She's so sweet (and spunky), and is from The South, so I'm sending her a lunch tomorrow.

My plan is to get up early and fry up some begniet for the working folk in the house, then climb back into bed with my favorite guy, my blind Maine Coon, Howie.  I'll send some pastries with Lou to J'Nai, too.  Not a bad way to spend an early morning...

G'night, kids...

Another Day at the Market - Opening Weekend at Olympia's Farmers' Market!

So, I kicked Lou out of the bed around 7:15 this morning, and made him drive 60 miles south of Seattle to the state capitol, Olympia, Crunchiest City in the World!  They have a 4-day a week market (http://www.olympiafarmersmarket.com/), and this was Opening Weekend.  Awesome.  Most of Seattle's neighborhood farmers' markets don't open until April 27, or the second week of May.  At least I made tea before we left, and we had fun singing along to the Crazy Heart soundtrack.  Can't stop listening to that.

Anyway, we arrived early, but all of the vendors were great about us wandering around their shops.  It's a permanent structure, not pop-up tents like Seattle's neighborhood markets (http://www.seattlefarmersmarkets.org/).

At the very crunchy but still tasty whole wheat valhalla Blue Heron Bakery (http://www.olympiafarmersmarket.com/Blue-Heron-Bakery/), we got ham and swiss croissants to get us through the morning, and came away with a variety six-pack of tomatoes: Early Girl, Sweet Million, Taxi (yellow), Roma, Oregon Spring, and Sun Gold.  We're putting them in the ground next weekend, along with a bunch of seeds that I have for other nibbles.  The nursery owner said that I can't get basil starters until Mother's Day, which is the last chance of frost for Seattle.

I also found a 4-pack of starters for these magnificant Swiss Chard plants called Bright Lights.  Red, yellow, green, purple...  What a tasty, colorful salad those will make.  I also have seeds for those.  A photo of matured and harvested chard is below - how can you not want to use this every day?!

Oh, by accident, we found a great store in Tacoma called Tacoma Boy's (okay, we were looking for the Sonic).  I got local Honeycrisp apples for 99 cents, local Fujis for 50 cent, Idaho fingerling potatoes for 35 cents, and local strawberries for 99 cents!  Not only that, but it is a haven for beer and wine lovers.  I found a 4-pack of Fuller's Porter in pub cans - I've NEVER seen that in the States before - even at Spec's Liquor Warehouse in Houston, the largest liquor store in the entire world (I get excited just thinking about that place).  Lou got a beer called Highway 78 that neither of us had heard of, but the Beer Geek pointed him toward it.  Tasty.

I'm on my second Fuller's with some just-this-side-of-stale pretzels. Num.  Great beer and nearly-turned salty treats go so well together.  Plus, we're watching "O Brother, Where Art There?" with my mom and uncle - they've never seen it!

I wished that the market had been bigger, but it was a good mix of nurseries, food, produce, and "organic" soap.  I do love handmade soap...

Oh!  I almost forgot!  After the repeated sabotaging of the art deco treasure, the ferry Kalakala, which last week left her bilge pump electrics cut, and quickly left her with a serious list and quickly filling with water, Lou and I wanted to check on her in her Tacoma industrial canal berth, and we're happy to say that the beautiful ship is above water and sitting square. I can't understand why someone would go to so much trouble to harm a beautiful ship like the Kalakala.  Or any vessel.  Or even spray paint a fence or a freeway overpass.  Vandalism just perplexes me.  For anyone interested in the fate of this wonderful piece of NW history, my husband, Blue Lou Logan, keeps track of it on his blog.

 On that note, I'll go back to my beer, nasty pretzels, and my not-so-nasty family.

Oh, and whoever keeps viewing from Denmark, send me a message - introduce yourself!  I don't bite hard, and I've had all of my shots.

-Z

Off to the Farmers' Market in Olympia - Opening Weekend!

Lou and I are up early to hit the opening weekend of their farmers' market.  Woohoo!  I'm sipping my first cup of tea while he's kilting up.  Awesome!

For those outside of Western Washington, this is no ordinary neighborhood farmers' market.  This baby runs Thursday through Sunday weekly, in the crunchiest town on earth.  Not a shaved armpit in site, I tell ya...

It's gigantic!  Scores and scores of vendors: bakeries, produce, honey, nurseries...  Cheese!

It's worth the 60-mile trip to our state capitol, even if we get lost again.

Cheers, everyone!  I'll let you know what I find.

-Z

Dinner in Marrakesh

Moroccan Feast

Shish Taouk, Shish Kebab, Cardamom and Lemon Broiled Potatoes, Grilled Marinated Aubergine, Brown Basmati Rice Pilaf, and Fresh Mint Tea

Another full day in the kitchen!  Marinating, slicing, applying Neosporin and Band-Aids when The Mangler (my guardless mandolin) won the first round...  I made both Shish Taouk (chicken breast) and Shish Kebab (steak), and gave the chicken some sweet red bell pepper love while giving the steak a bite with crushed fresh cranberries.  Obviously, not traditional, but tasty.  I didn't have any plain yoghurt, so I used organic whole milk (used only for cooking - we don't drink whole milk - or milk at all) to break it down.

Cubed red potatoes, tossed in their own marinade of lemon, cardamom, mint, and rosemary (okay, and about 40 other spices and juices), are always the hit of my Moroccan cuisine.  Basically, I have to overfill my plate at dinner just to ensure that I have enough left to make a leftover lunch (I don't eat much).

So far, I'm the only one guzzling the tea (although I just switched to my favorite cheap red wine), but I have no problem with that at all.

The rice was full of Italian Flat Leaf Parsley, Julienned Carrots, something that I found in my root veggie bowl that looked like a beige, wrinkled carrot that I couldn't remember buying, but it looked, smelled, and tasted okay, so I sliced it on the beaten-into-submission mandolin, popped a slice in my mouth, and it tasted like a slightly sweet carrot.  So, I julienned that, too (by hand, after the carrot incident), added some minced garlic, used Brown Basmati Rice, then toasted the whole thing before I added the liquid: low-sodium, free-range chicken broth.  Because I didn't want sticky, Chinese take-out rice, I used an extra 1/2 cup of stock.

I marinated the thickly-sliced aubergine (about 3/4"), and broiled that in the oven while Lou was outside grilling the meat.  Set the table, sit, down, and eat was the only thing we had left to do.

Okay, so Uncle Billy didn't eat the rice, but he at least ate the meat and potatoes.  I'm still trying to figure out what to cook to please him, but we're a healthy food household, and I am lost when it comes to a 54-year-old man who goes through two giant Coke Slurpees a day.  I have to just decide to cook the way I usually do (healthy, lots of vegetables), and let him fend for himself.  Who ever pictured me as a nuturer?  If you said, "I did," we're no longer friends.

I hope you all had happy, satisfying meals, and are safely tucked in next to your kitchen bitch.

-Z

Let's Talk About Martinis

Okay, you all know, or have heard of, my kitchen bitch, Lou, a/k/a Mr. Zanne (thanks bnldavid for Mrs. Bnldavid),  Recently, okay, for 3-1/2 f'g years, this weird ass pirate guy has been following me around like my Seeing Eye Bitch, Sammy Davis Jr., Jr. (thank you, Liev Schreiber), sniffing my tail like we're married, then I find out this week that we actually ARE married in some crazy Ukranian head-slapping tradition.  WTF?  Who is this guy?  He tells me that his name is Vitoli, and keeps asking me how he can be of service.

Chop, bitch, chop!  Slice, dice, broil, grill, suck toes, whatever I tell you - what molestable woman in her 30s isn't interested in being worshipped?  Certainly not this one.  I have a toe slave for the next 50 years.  I can live with that.

Oh, back to martinis (sorry, I get off track when it comes to worshipping the Goddess that is Zanne).  Dirty, dirty, dirty, and only potato vodka.  That grain alcohol crap isn't fit for consumption.

What was I talking about???

Oh, for me, chill the glass with ice water, inhale over an open bottle of dry vermouth, exhale into an ice-filled shaker, skip the olives but drain half the brine in the jar into the shaker, and fill the rest with potato vodka.  Shake, pour, and make sure there's enough vodka left for another round.

A cosmo is not a martini.  An apple-tini is not a martini.  Vodka, gin, whatever twirls your skirt, but if you put something called "Pucker" into a martini glass, it's not a martini.

This is going to sound crazy, but it's awesome.  Everything I said above, but switch out pickle brine for the olive brine.  Thos little midgets are best, and I can eat them by the case.

What You Can Expect from The Zzyzx Road Kitchen Chronicles

Well, my name is Zanne, and I cook. A lot. Really, a lot.

For the most part, I create my own recipes, using prior cooking skills or just winging it with a bowl and whisk. Sometimes, it's a disaster (we don't talk about the Carrot Cake Wreck of 2010), or the smoke alarms go off. It's all about experiments with interesting, unusual, and tasty fresh ingredients. I'm Quebecois (French-Canadian), Shoshone, British, and Cherokee, so I use a number of traditional family recipes, as well (usually with updates), but I also get inspiration from middle eastern, eastern European, Latin, Caribbean, and northern African cuisines.  I am at that point in my life where I will try anything that I'm not allergic to.  Okay, maybe I'll draw the line at deep-fried tarantulas. 

I'm a spice nut. Goddess. Expert. Spice Whisperer, whatever. I just "know" how to blend, my husband says. He calls my cooking style "jazz," picking a vegetable or ingredient I've never tried, some exotic grain, or spice, and just go with it, like pickup jazz. He's a music professor, in case you were wondering.   Technically, he's an ethnomusicologist, but he's also an archaeologist, which totally fulfills my childhood Indiana Jones fantasies.  We also have a daughter, 11-year-old Bev, who is taller than me and is the most adventurous eater that I have ever seen.  She's funny, slightly dorky, beautiful, and

So, expect a lot of unpretentious, easy to understand recipes, with lots of tips on "in case you don't have this" or "you can totally substitute this," and maybe some techniques explained, where/how the meal came to be, and shortcuts, if you're a working gal or guy, like using canned instead of dry beans.  Not my preference, but not everyone works in front of their cable box, able to whip, mix, stir, or mash at a moment's notice.

I try not to use canned or prepackaged food very often, and my kitchen and recipes are chock full of dried beans, chickpeas, gorgeous grains, and fresh vegetables and fruit.

I don't really focus on low-fat, but most of my dishes are healthy. Most of what I cook IS low in fat (and sodium), just because of my tastes, but I can fry chicken, make a kick-ass pot roast, and love a great cheeseburger just as much as the next girl (or frat boy).

I guess it just boils down to me loving the entire process of cooking, from planning to shopping at farmers' markets and other shops to whisking to seeing my husband grin when he takes the first bite. I'm rarely happier in any other place.  I'm not sure that I can explain it any other way.