the day your hunger bared its frailty
salt rusted out my eyes and you were gone
tearing the crimson of your heart on thorns
sunstarved to meanness by the winter’s fist
I watched my grief refract in spiders’ eyes
and gleaned your mercy from the silent bees
until I plucked your flesh from those cruel thorns
and gave my hand to shadows and despair
then from the scrap-heap of my soul you rose
your feathers catching fire like the sea
there was no salt I could not kiss away
and weariness was sweet and sweetness praise

what if your weakness still desires food
and thorns still starve for comfort in the leaves?

Posted in Birdsong

Spreading Wings


“It’s time for a resurrection,” I said as we walked through the cold spring sunlight to church.

It’s been a long Lent—longer, in some quarters, than the church calendar would have you believe. But in the yearly miracle, in the words of one of my favourite contemporary worship songs:

He has risen from the grave (early on the third day)

You’ll find him on the road
You’ll find him at your table

For He has risen from the dead

The first of the crocuses are out—no matter that it’s almost a month later than last year—and life is starting again.

Am I waxing elliptical? Sometimes I fear that, somewhere in the balance between keeping what should be private off the internet and  writing from what I know, I veer on the side of opacity. Perhaps this is inevitable.

In the hopes of making a few lucid statements: this seems as good a moment as any to announce a few changes.

I’ve been feeling frustrated, of late, by the limitations of a cooking blog. Sometimes I go for a few weeks without making anything interesting during daylight hours. Sometimes I want to write about something that it’s difficult to relate to a specific recipe. (“While I pondered the role of women in the church, I munched on this healthful homemade granola bar!” No? Me neither.) I would like to improve my photography skills so as to be able to take pictures of things that are not indoors and perfectly still. And, as a poet and a translator, I don’t always work on things with pea soup in line 4. In short, I want to be on the road as well as at the table.

So the Kitchen Lark is going to be flitting around a bit. I’ll still be posting mostly recipes, but I’ll also touch on issues I see as I fly, literally and metaphorically, around the world. As for recipes themselves, I’m going to do my best to challenge myself a little more…requests and dares are welcome!

As for poetry, I’ve made a place for some birdsong.

And I promise to get the gluten-free butter cake right next Easter—it was a disaster for the second year running.


Posted in Adventures & Announcements

Apple-Date Baked Oatmeal


I woke early this morning to the sound of rain pattering on the window. The snow is disappearing, and there’s that early-spring mistiness to the world. The perfect morning for a more-than-usually-elaborate breakfast!

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Posted in Breakfasts

Peanut Butter Banana Bread

BananaBreadThe last time I shared a recipe, I was looking at daffodils and cherry blossoms and other west-coast oddities. Now I am seeing spring all over again, spring the way I have come to know and love it: instead of the oppressive sameness of 65-and-sunny days, the green is starting to show amid melting snow, mud, and the accumulated garbage of a season in the city. Sun and cloud compete for the sky, the day changing with the speed and unpredictability of a three-month-old.

I am doing a lot of watching, a lot of waiting.

I remember driving around a lot with my parents when I was small—car culture being, I suppose, another west-coast oddity. I remember times when we would get lost after dark in the Berkeley hills. “This town,” my mother would declare in disgust, “is a maze of twisty passages all alike.” On one occasion, our car decided to have sudden electrical problems: we were lost after sunset, in a maze of twisty passages, with no headlights.

It feels a little as though that is what is going on right now. I’m not sure where I am, can’t see the road ahead. I’m pretty sure I took a wrong turn somewhere, and I’ll just have to keep going until I find the main road again.

Fortunately, there are plenty of snacks on this journey. And good company.

Ruggles Read More »

Posted in Snacks and Desserts


DaisyRingToday is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. I pray today, Thomas Merton finding words for my broken tongue:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think that I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always,
though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

(Via Rachel Held Evans.)


Posted in Adventures & Announcements

Dutch Apple Pancake

BlossomI hope those of you on the East Coast will forgive me, but I am trying to think spring.

My sense of the seasons has been turned topsy-turvy. Daffodils in February? Local asparagus at the market already? Those who have been in the area longer than I say that this is unusual, even for California.

I’ll take it as a blessing. I’m in sore need of some beauty, and some warmth.

DaffodilBut for those of you still caught in the jaws of winter, I have a small something to warm and cheer you: a Dutch Apple Pancake. While we Dutch certainly take our pancakes seriously—one of my most vivid memories of my one visit to Holland was sailing through Rotterdam on a Pannenkoekenboot, a pancake boat—this is not one we can claim for our own. The Dutch in the title is more of a Deutsch, and the credit must go to the Germans.

Und die Pfannkuchen sind sehr lecker—zum Fruhstück, Mittagessen, Abendessen, oder wann immer Sie möchten.

DutchApplePancake Read More »

Posted in Breakfasts

Rainy Day Peanut Bowl

WelliesIt’s raining here today.

The trees are dripping, the pavement slick outside my window. My umbrella hangs from the doorknob, still drying from this morning’s trip into the wet wind. I sit with a cup of tea. It doesn’t help to know that it’s probably twenty degrees colder and icy in Montreal.

It’s cold outside. And I’m cold inside.


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Posted in Vegetarian Main Dishes

Chocolate Chip Pecan Cookies

CookieDoughWhen uncertainty looms, it is a blessing to take a bowl and a whisk and stir flours together.

When the sky seems always grey, and loneliness unending, it is a beauty to remember that such homely things as sugar, eggs, oil, can come together, pass through the oven’s heat, and emerge transformed. It is a reminder of order in the midst of chaos. A hand reaching out to you in the slough of despond and reassuring you that there is far more than your worries and fears.


Breathe. Do you remember how you love the smell of vanilla?

Listen. There is an unplanned rhythm to the sigh of your knife through the pecans scattered across your cutting board.

Look. Is there anything quite the colour of dark chocolate? It’s brown almost-blackness, its not-quite shine, its gleam as it melts in the heat of the oven.


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Posted in Snacks and Desserts

And a Happy New Year

TulipIt’s been a long sabbath.


Posted in Adventures & Announcements

Sunday Night Popcorn


Humans must be the only creatures on God’s green earth who need to be reminded to rest.

We race through our days, working at our various tasks. Hydra-like, they multiply, two to-do’s rearing up to take the place of their slain predecessor. We race furiously to the point of exhaustion. I doubt I’m the only one who finds herself mulling on problems of the day long after I’ve told myself to quit. I should have read another article today. Which lines do I have to translate for tomorrow? Maybe I should get up and send that email now, before I forget.

Once in a while, an 18-hour sprint day can be helpful. But for me at least—others may be blessed (or cursed) with hardier constitutions than my own—overworking more than once in a while is a bad, bad idea. I’ll stop doing the things I love. Cooking, reading, making beautiful things, all fall by the wayside. I get too little done, and can’t stop chiding myself.

And then I remember the sabbath.

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Posted in Snacks and Desserts