Books for a New Year

It’s a new year and as good of a time as ever to breathe some life into this Battered Women blog. Let’s get literary.

I compiled a list of ten books I want to read this year. They aren’t all recent, nor are they all about food. Many of them are waiting on my shelf right now, becoming fully exasperated with my endless blogging.

Books I Want to Read in 2012

1. Welcome to Higby by Mark Dunn – I started this one on the train today. The story centers on a small town of eccentrics and religious fanatics. Mark Dunn writes really fantastic dialogue – a man preaching the gospel to a cat and a woman taking budgeting advice from her sassy, black guardian angel.

2. The Master and Margarita by Mikail Bulgakov – From what I gather, Satan ambles into Moscow like he owns the place, the relationship between Soviet society and artists is explored, and an enormous talking cat imbues a great deal of vodka. There’s also a story within a story about Jesus.

3. The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender – A girl goes through life tasting the emotions of other’s through the food they cook. Liza enjoyed this book immensely and now it’s gracing the shelf of borrowed books in my enormous bookcase. (You might remember a previous post long, long ago about The Girl with the Flammable Skirt.)

4. Swamplandia! by Karen Russell – I loved the observant and precocious child narrators in St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves. Swamplandia! appears to expand on one of my favorite short stories from the collection, “Ava Wrestles the Alligator.”

5. Stranger Things Happen by Kelly Link –.One might mistake this for a Nancy Drew mystery based on the cover art. It’s a short story collection drawing from fairy tales, Greek mythology, and famous acts of cannibalism.

6. Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino – Marco Polo tells stories about cities he has seen while traveling to Kublai Khan as his empire crumbles. Sounds magical.

7. Only Revolutions by Mark Z. Danielewski – Two starry-eyed teenagers embark on a metaphoric road trip through history. I need to tackle this now because Danielewski’s 27 volume project about cats will probably take a great deal of time to read.

8. Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke – This historical account of wizardry in England during the Napoleonic Wars told in witty British prose and footnotes was recommended to me by a friend. Totaling in at one thousand and twenty-four pages, it will likely take three months of the year on its own. It still pales in comparison to Danielewski’s cat saga.

9. Unclean Jobs for Women and Girls by Alissa Nutting - From what I’ve read, it’s a collection of stories about women who hold unglamorous, unlikely jobs. The cover of this book features a woman holding a fish and reminds me a lot of Leonor Fini's painting "Le Bout Du Monde."

10. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov – Not having read Lolita feels kind of like not having seen Planet of the Apes. Not that the two have anything to do with each other but for the fact that I also haven’t seen Planet of the Apes.

What are you excited to read this year?

The Importance of Eating Muffins

JACK: How you can sit there, calmly eating muffins, when we are in this horrible trouble, I can’t make out. You seem to me to be perfectly heartless.

ALGERNON:  Well, I can’t eat muffins in an agitated manner. The butter would probably get on my cuffs. One should always eat muffins quite calmly. It is the only way to eat them.

JACK: I say it’s perfectly heartless your eating muffins at all, under the circumstances.

ALGERNON: When I am in trouble, eating is the only thing that consoles me. Indeed, when I am in really great trouble, as anyone who knows me intimately will tell you, I refuse everything except food and drink. At the present moment I am eating muffins because I am unhappy. Besides, I am particularly fond of muffins.

- Oscar Wilde, TheImportance of Being Earnest

Muffins are irresistible to everyone, except celiacs, masochists, and people of that sort. Why else would a celebrated wit such as Oscar Wilde choose the muffin over an abundance of British tea time treats? What about bread and butter, teacake, or those queer, porous crumpets? Clearly they are all inferior.

There comes a time each year when I crave pumpkin. (Some call it “fall.”) My seasonal instincts are telling me to eat those bulbous orange squashes that grace the entrances of every supermarket. I thought a lot about making pumpkin muffins. I knew I needed to make pumpkin muffins or I would think about them day and night until that thought circuit became a reality. 

This vegan pumpkin coconut muffin recipe is adapted from a Mark Bittman recipe clip from the New York Times site. (Watch the video and catch the Milan Kundera joke at the end.) Rather than the usual half all-purpose, half-whole wheat approach, Bittman uses whole wheat pastry flour and a cup of produce puree. I veganized this recipe by replacing the stick of butter with a half cup of coconut oil, which I also rubbed all over my skin. Try not to get it on your cuffs.

Some say the best way to prevent muffin-provoked violence is to make enough for everyone. This recipe makes 12-14 muffins and one small bowl of vegan pumpkin pudding.

Vegan Pumpkin Coconut Muffins

2 ½ cups whole wheat pastry flour

¾ cup maple syrup

2 teaspoons aluminum-free baking powder

½ teaspoon aluminum-free baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

1 cup pumpkin puree (Bake and puree peeled pumpkin or buy it canned like a square. Your choice.)

½ cup coconut milk

½ cup melted coconut oil

¼ cup unsweetened coconut flakes

1 teaspoon cinnamon

½ teaspoon ginger

¼ teaspoon nutmeg

Preheat to 375 degrees.

Combine the pastry flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a mixing bowl and stir. In another bowl, combine the pumpkin puree, coconut milk, coconut oil, and shredded coconut. Gently blend the two mixtures together and keep in mind that over-mixing will result in unpleasantly tough muffins. Grease a muffin tin with coconut oil or fill the tin with muffin cups. Pour in the batter.

Place the tin in the preheated oven and bake for 20-25 minutes.

As you wait, eat the remainder of the batter with a spatula. Rename the recipe “Vegan Pumpkin Pudding” and call it a night.

I try so hard not to look like one of those people who stuff their mouths incessantly, but it still seems like whenever anyone speaks to me I have a mouthful of corn chips. Call me Chipmunk Cheeks, but what can be done? Could I grow my own self-control with a green tablet in a tub of water and use the resulting spongy-thing to soak up my unbridled addictions? Probably not.

Cream and Berries: Better than Fairy Food?

"'Christopher, she blurted out, 'do you ever think about food?' 

'Food?' The heartbreaking control of the voice flickered a little, as if in surprise, and the next question was a real one. 'What do you mean?' 

'J-j-just food,' Kate stammered. 'Things to eat. I mean, they don't feed the mortal women on boiled grain and milk, like you, but with us it's always meat in wine and spices, every single day, richer than Christmas, and I'm so tired of it. I keep thinking all the time what it would be like to have a loaf of bread, a new loaf out of the oven, with a crust on it, and clotted cream and strawberries...'"

(pg. 182-3) The Perilous Gard by Elizabeth Marie Pope

Ah, The Perilous Gard, a book in which our heroine is forced to live with the fairy folk in order to keep her from revealing secrets of those around her. And in doing so, discovers that maybe meat isn't all that it's cracked up to be. Maybe she should ask for some oatmeal instead...


But when she is reunited with a former companion, she in an attempt to distract themselves from their fates, describes the most fabulous of all things- the proper way to eat a scone. Yes, that's right. You've been horribly improper in your scone eating method. Feel ashamed.


Select a scone.


Take the normal steps to insure that it is free of enchantment. If you're out of rowan branches, try mint leaves and a hint of malt powder. That way, you'll have a milkshake if the spell goes awry. And who doesn't crave a milkshake while they stand in the ruins of their house in the dead of winter? 


Fairies. Because they live underground.


Split the scone in half, creating extra surface area.


Have a jar of your favorite type of jam. The higher quality the better.


Scoop out a generous amount of jam and apply directly to the inside of the two scone halves.


If you live in a place where clotted cream is readily available, now is the time to go get some. For everyone else or those who don't want to go to the store, simply add a dollop of freshly whipped cream.

Freshly Whipped Cream (Accept No Substitutes)
1-2 tablespoons Sugar
1 cup of Heavy Whipping Cream


Pre-chill the mixing bowl.
Add both ingredients to a mixer with a whisk attachment. Whip at a high setting or alternatively using a handheld whisk until your wrist snaps off;(work in a pair if you can, trading off when you tire) or until stiff peaks form. This is when the cream will hold its shape when the whisk is lifted up slightly, creating a mountain top or a range, if you persist in testing more than once.


*Note of caution for those who are used to the canned-- fresh whipped cream will only last a few days in the fridge. It's best fresh, so don't make more than a few hours ahead if you can avoid it. Make sure to keep leftovers in an enclosed container or a bowl covered with plastic wrap. The cream will absorb any powerful odors, so don't leave it next to the garlic sauce unless you're pregnant.

The Most Intense Vegetable

“The beet is the murderer returned to the scene of the crime. The beet is what happens when the cherry finishes with the carrot. The beet is the ancient ancestor of the autumn moon, bearded, buried, all but fossilized; the dark green sails of the grounded moon-boat stitched with veins of primordial plasma; the kite string that once connected the moon to the Earth now a muddy whisker drilling desperately for rubies.”

-        -   Tom Robbins, the opening of Jitterbug Perfume

Is it possible to love beets more than Tom Robbins? For a few weeks, the beet was my obsession. It began with a quinoa salad in a quaint Quebec café, continuing passionately into bowl upon bowl of borscht, both warm-and-creamy and raw-and-gushing.

Robbins calls the beet “passionate,” perhaps because it resembles an uprooted organ hairy with arteries. Cut mercilessly into the beet and it will dribble magenta unicorn blood upon your impeccable white tablecloths and imitation granite. The scene of the crime will not be pretty sight and you will most certainly be caught red-handed. The evidence will be the ink on your fingerprints.

I ate my beets raw, from the skin to the flesh. Some say that the skin of the beet contains potent cancer-destroying compounds, so skip the peeling process in this raw beet salad. You know what other vegetable I love? Kale. I needed to include that somehow. This recipe is for one, because I never sit down and eat four servings of salad by myself.

Intense Beet Salad

2 leaves of kale, rinsed and dried
Squirt of lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon of olive oil
1/4 teaspoon chili powder
1 handful of beet greens
1/4 cup grated beets, washed and unpeeled
1 handful of golden raisins
1 tablespoon of sunflower seeds


Viciously rip the kale into bit sized pieces and drop them in a bowl. Add lemon juice, sea salt, olive oil, and chili powder. Work the dressing into the kale with your bare hands so that it gets a bit wilted, otherwise it will probably slice your gums open. Mix in the beet greens and grated beets. Top with raisins and sunflower seeds.


The chili powder, raisins, and lemon give it a sweet-sour-spicy flavor that I find delicious. (Disclaimer: I'm also the sort of girl who would put Sriracha on ice cream just to get conflicting sensations. If you presented me with a standard garden salad of iceberg lettuce and chopped tomatoes, I would probably fall asleep with my face marinating in the ranch dressing. Perhaps I am an intense vegetable myself.)

Advice from a Caterpillar

“One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter.”

“One side of what? The other side of what?” thought Alice to herself.

“Of the mushroom,” said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked it out loud; and in another moment it was out of sight.

Alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, trying to make out which were the two sides of it; and, as it was perfectly round, she found this a very difficult question. However, at last she stretched her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit of the edge with each hand.

“And now which is which?” she said to herself, and nibbled a little of the right-hand bit to try the effect. The next moment she felt a violent blow underneath her chin: it had struck her foot!

- Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

As humans, we sometimes eat fungus when prompted by cheeky insect larvae. And we sometimes eat them just because it’s tasty. I imagine Alice must have felt like that lonesome, hungry cave man that picked the first (poisonous?) mushroom and thought, Should I consume this? Or perhaps she felt like Eve with the serpant coiled beside her ankle hissing, “Just eat it, it’ll be awesome!”

Outside of the US, where “don’t touch it, it’s deadly” is the wild mushroom mantra, foraging mushrooms is an international pastime for friends of the fungus.

For instance, last year in Italy, eighteen mushroom zealots were killed mushroom scouting in the uncharted Italian backwoods. In most cases, the deadly dapperling and false skullcap were not to blame. These foragers had no idea what they were doing. Rampant mushroom lust led one elderly woman to plunge to her death. A wounded man holding a bag of frozen carrots to his forehead famously admitted at the crime scene, “A caterpillar told us to do it.”

So don’t be afraid to love the mushroom. You’re probably not an idiot. Here’s a recipe, adapted from Barefoot Contessa's Sauteed Mushrooms.

Basically Harmless Sauteed Wild Mushrooms*

2 pounds mixed wild mushrooms (I used cremini, shiitaki, and oyster)

½ cup olive oil

1 cup chopped shallots (or 4 large shallots)

4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Sea salt and pepper to taste

6 cloves of garlic

1 teaspoon dried thyme

1 cup flat-leaf parsley

Clean the mushrooms somehow. Slice away the stems and keep the caps. You might chop them up if you have larger mushrooms. I, however, did not.

Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan. Sautee the shallots until they become translucent. Then add the olive oil, mushrooms, salt, and pepper. Continue cooking and stirring until they look juicy. Add the garlic and stir. After about two minutes, mix the parsley and thyme into the mushrooms and serve.

*No Italians were harmed in the making of this side dish.

Eating and Reading

"It is a curious fact that novelists have a way of making us believe that luncheon parties are invariably memorable for something very witty that was said, or for something very wise that was done. But they seldom spare a word for what was eaten. It is part of a novelist’s convention not to mention soup and salmon and ducklings, as if soup and salmon and ducklings were of no importance whatsoever, as if nobody ever smoked a cigar or drank a glass of wine.”

-          - Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

I suppose Virginia Woolf never read novels while fasting for a Jewish holiday. One fateful Yom Kippur, my Jewish friend’s hungry eyes devoured The Particular Sadness of the Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender. Her shrunken stomach gurgled as she read description after description of cakes and meals. Perhaps she stumbled upon the worst possible literature for her holy condition. Perhaps reading and eating need not be separate worlds after all.


Liza and I are college friends and writers. We like to collaborate but live far away from each other. Now that we have enormously useful college degrees in our possession and live in our respective states, we send each other recipes, discuss cooking oils, and revel in the glories of quinoa from a distance.

The last time Liza visited my house, we botched a batter for quinoa muffins with some disastrous homemade sunflower butter. Exhausted and downtrodden, we named our blog thus: Two Battered Women.

Think of Two Battered Women as the middle of a boring Venn diagram. The left circle is food, the right circle is literature, and Two Battered Women is that lemony shape in the creamy center, full of eating and reading, cooking and baking, and books about food.

Now, imagine that the two circles of the Venn diagram are actually sesame seed bagels filled with cream cheese. This should be interesting.