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Trapped in Paradise

Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger last week.
The decision has been made: we’re moving in June.
It’s not the end of the world; quite the opposite. Jessie and I realized rushing through such a meticulous process, and disrupting the kids’ school year, when we’re both still working our way back to full health from that nasty virus...
...not ideal.
Our house has come a long way towards being ready to rent, but it’s not there yet. Working on the details between now and April, for a June 1 departure, is way more doable. So even though we hoped to make it sooner, I don’t feel trapped in Taos at the moment.
We’ve done so much to get ready for moving. Slowing down and focusing on being full strength to start a new life in California is exciting.
My family and I have come a long way in a short period of time. (We're rock solid.)
Truth is, the 2020’s have been difficult, as the pandemic disrupted our lives in profound ways.
In 2020, I started documenting my neighborhood walks on Instagram, to help spread peaceful energy at a hard time.
Then I got a new camera, and began documenting my life here in Taos during 2021.
I made pictures all year long, and have been editing them ever since.
Trying to find the right way to tell the story of a challenging, emotionally devastating year.
I showed the pictures to a couple of people in Poland, and emailed a curator or two, so it’s time to put the work out there.
Here.
On Sunshine and Olly.
I’ll share the artist statement below, and then the pictures, to Trapped in Paradise.
Hope you appreciate the work!
Trapped in Paradise
2021 was the worst year of my life.
(Worse than 2020 even.)
My wife was recovering from clinical depression. My mother-in-law evaporating to Alzheimer's Disease. And my children were withering, stuck at home part year, as the schools were still closed during the pandemic.
Mid-life is famously tough, but for Jessie and me, some of those days felt like actual torture.
I was 30 lbs overweight, unhealthy, and unhappy.
However, I live in a beautiful place; a horse farm in the village of Arroyo Hondo, just outside Taos, New Mexico.
And I love my wife and children more than anything on Earth.
During the Covid 19 pandemic, my family and I found ourselves enmeshed in deep misery, yet walking in circles around the gorgeous farm and adjoining dirt roads.
(Or driving aimlessly around photogenic Taos, with nowhere to go.)
I felt trapped in paradise, as even when vaccines became available, we still spent 2021 in a state of suspended animation, desperate to avoid getting my Mother-in-law sick.
Bonnie became less communicative each passing day, and was mentally gone by late May of that year. (She passed in December 2023.)
In order to stay sane, amidst the chaos, I made this photographic project, shooting pictures the entire year.
These images represent my world in Taos as I know it, having spent the majority of my adult life here.
They’re also chronological.
They record a state of mind, pulsing with energy: claustrophobic, anxious, vibrational.
The exceptions, the beautiful ones, break the tension and represent the joy of healing.
Like birds in a deep blue sky.
Those few times when I looked up, and felt free.























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Lowes in Española is the Hellmouth


images courtesy of Ai Weiwei and publicdelivery.org
I’m frustrated.
(Which is an emotion that often pushes me to write.)
Jessie and I are getting tortured by Lowes in Española, and it’s gotten to the point it might postpone our move.
The Christmas timeframe was always tight, as we’re trying to wrap up a 20 year Taos life in a 4-6 week time horizon.
Finish the projects, take the photos, list the house on Zillow, find the proper renter, get it all legally sorted, find a house in San Diego, sign a lease, get everything moved, and then the kids enrolled and started in a new school.
All over 6 weeks, total?
Like jumping out of an airplane and hitting the landing target on the money.
The difficulty of the plan has pushed Jessie to envision, and then complete, one gorgeous house design project after another.
We’ve had workmen in our home, regularly, since April, fixing three bathrooms, a bedroom, the kitchen, and part of the living room.
All the while, trying to thread the needle on our departure, as Theo is a junior in high school, and his guidance counselor told him if he doesn’t switch schools at mid-year, it could negatively impact his college options.
Quite the pickle.
And then we got fucked by Española Lowes.
If like me, you assumed that a major national chain, the second largest home improvement company in America, would have to do business ethically, you’d be wrong.
Part of why we’re moving is that things can be difficult to accomplish here in New Mexico.
(I’m being diplomatic.)
But those assholes down there in Española have taken it to new heights.
I’ll spare you the litany of offenses, but the reality is that we bought new appliances for the house on September 8th, and still have an LG dryer on our front porch, more than two months later.
The companion washing machine hasn’t been delivered yet, (after mis-delivering it twice,) and now the new dishwasher just broke, after a month.
Throw in the times they’ve disconnected us on the phone, refused to answer the phone, or when they sent delivery workers here who spoke absolutely no English at all. (I speak some Spanish.)
Plus the literal hours we had to sit and stand around the store, (which is an hour and 15 minutes away,) just trying to get anyone at all to help us resolve the many, many issues.
Honestly, I’m about ready to stand in front of their store, stark naked, with a strobe light attached to my head, drink tea all day and then piss in their parking lot.
Over and over again, I’d dance and chant, until the rest of my sanity is gone.
So yeah, will we make it out of here by January 1?
Looking less likely by the day.
Jessie’s still fighting hard for it, but the rest of us are starting to make our peace with riding out the school year, and getting out of here June 1.
I might have to get a day job in the interim, but at least we’ll have some mental security.
(They don’t call it the Land of Entrapment for nothing.)
We’ll end up in California, I have faith in that.
Our home and property are insanely nice, and Californians and Coloradans are moving here daily, as if they were giving away gold in the mountains.
(They’re not.)
So that’s where we stand.
I might be living in San Diego six weeks from now.
But it will require Lowes of Española to get some fucking dignity and do the right thing.
And the New Mexico gods to offer me a bit more luck than they have so far.
We shall see...
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Secret Recipe: Minestrone Soup


Hi Everybody, how’s it going?
I made it home safe and sound from Poland, but only just.
I pulled the car in at midnight last Thursday, (just turning Friday,) and by 11am was sick as can be.
I’ll spare you the details, but it was one nasty bug. So bad, at first I thought it might be food poisoning.
(Note to self, next time, DO NOT eat the airplane tandoori chicken.)
But Jessie got sick three and a half days after I did, (it woke her up at midnight on the dot,) so it’s pretty clear that mixing germs with people from all over the world, as I did in Frankfurt Airport, left an unshakeable residue of some kind.
And it fucking sucked.
The nasty bugger ripped through my gut bacteria with a nuclear blowtorch.
Days of crackers and ginger-ale, and even Wheat-thins were hard to digest, at first.
Fortunately, I’m good at listening to my body, and after a few days, it told my brain that minestrone soup would be appreciated.
It’s a specific ask, but a soup I’ve made many times before.
(Having grown up on the Progresso canned version that my Mom always bought in the supermarket.)
The problem, though, is this illness has made it incredibly hard to digest food, and wants no part of any of my typical cooking buddies: chile, citric acid and black pepper.
Nor any flavorings or spices at all, really.
Just the blandest shit imaginable.
So how do you make that taste good?
I’m glad you asked.
The soup turned out so well I made it again yesterday. Only this time, I knew I’d be sharing the simple (but brilliant) recipe with you.
So I took photos throughout the process.
The big idea for this minestrone is that I used only two added ingredients.
Two.
Total.
A hint of oregano, and kosher salt.
Nothing else went in, beyond the primary ingredients.
Fortunately, the vegetal combination was so on point, the kids didn’t even want to add parmesan cheese, or black pepper, when offered.
Everyone agreed it’s perfect.
This is medicine food, and challenged me to leave all my tricks behind, and start over.
(Just like rebuilding my gut bacteria from nothing.)
I even used a pasta I’d never worked with, and now it will be my go-to for this soup going forward.
Let’s get to it.
You’re going to need two boxes of chicken stock, one can of tomatoes, a box of orzo, and then the vegetables.
1 large white onion
5 cloves of garlic
3 carrots
3 celery stalks
1 big bunch of cauliflower
1 green bell pepper
1 large zucchini



The technique of the soup is made more efficient if you chop your veggies while you’re cooking. (But that’s up to you.)
Start by dicing up the onion.
Heat your soup pan, add some extra virgin olive oil, and then sautée the onions. Add a small amount of dried oregano. Take them further than a sweat, but stop short of a full caramelize, where the onions lose all texture.
A well of garlic inside the sautéing onions
Then mince the garlic, and when the onions are done, make a well in the pan, add some oil, and sautée the garlic, adding salt.
Next, dice and add the celery and carrots, again salting the veggies as you add them.
Next, make a well in the middle, and add the zucchini. (Which I pre-salted. The only ingredient I treated that way.)
Once the zucchini has at least a little color from the pan, chop and add the bell peppers and cauliflower, adding salt as you go.

After all the veggies have been at least a little pan cooked, add the two boxes of chicken stock.
Then the canned tomatoes.
Then three cans of water from the tomatoes.
Add some salt, cover, and cook on medium heat for 1.5 hours, stirring occasionally.
(Adding salt to taste.)
Once the vegetables are nicely chewable, but still have firm texture, add 3/4 lb of orzo.
It cooks in about 10-15 minutes, and then the soup is done.
All told, under 2 hours of cooking time.
Yesterday, I kept eating off the pot all day.
Theo had it for breakfast this morning.
It’s that freaking good.
My favorite part is you really taste each individual vegetable. They sing.
And of course substitute veggie stock for chicken stock and you have a vegan dish.
Happy Cooking!

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Portfolios from ICP in NYC

Tomorrow is a big day.
(For real.)
It sounds like hyperbole, but I’m off to the other side of the world.
To the land of (some of) my Jewish ancestors.
To the Old Country.
To Poland.
It feels monumental, as I haven’t been on an art/journalism/business trip in a year and a half.
After nearly a decade of constant travel, I’ve spent a significant chunk of time here on the farm outside Taos.
Working on my health.
Doing the jiu jitsu.
Hitting the gym.
(Being a part time, stay-at-home Dad, if I’m being honest.)
Tomorrow, though, I head off on a massive adventure.
I’m going to visit the Museum of Contemporary Art in Krakow, (MOCAK,) as they’re showing a large installation from my project, “The Value of a Dollar,” in their “Food in Art” exhibition.
from the Food in Art exhibition catalogue
I wasn’t able to visit the last time I had a big show in Europe, (in Germany in 2019,) and this time, I didn’t want to let the opportunity pass.
Plus, the visit opened up the chance to shoot a new photo project in Poland, which I’ll tell you more about when I get home.
(Unless I blog from Europe. Who knows?)
One benefit of blogging, of working in a milieu inherently online, is it's easy to see visions of elsewhere.
Really, it's a perfect vehicle for disseminating photography.
And Zooming allows us to communicate in real time in ways far beyond what I hoped for, growing up in the 20th Century.
(If you sense I’m building towards something, you’re right.)
Fortunately for us, last Spring, I was invited to review portfolios at an online event produced by the International Center of Photography in NYC, organized for their recent alumni.
Not sure if it’s because International is in the title of the school, but the student body is always hyper-globally diverse.
As such, because I’ve put it off for far too long, today’s post will feature five mini-portfolios from six artists I (digitally) met last Spring.
All of them were professional, interesting to talk to, and talented for sure.
For my longtime readers, I used to do these articles all the time at A Photo Editor.
The rules are the same, as the artists are in no particular order.
In a new twist, each artist wrote beautifully about their own work, so rather than doing my own deep blurbs, I’ll just intro their pictures and words.
Chia Yun Wu hails from Taiwan, which is the inspiration for her work. (Along with family and memory.)
Needless to say, in a world in which Russia invaded Ukraine, China’s threat to Taiwan is real.
Metaphorically, it pervades her multi-layered images.
She wrote:
“Taiwan has been isolated from the world due to its political issues with China. Questions of independence, identity, and territory never have clear answers.
This lonely island is surrounded by the ocean, waves, and tears. To the people who are waiting to be recognized as an independent nation, the image of water has become a symbol of fluidity, unsettlement, and confusion. I seek to deconstruct these liquid elements by reconstructing a solemn, while hopeful, map.”




Raine Roberts shoots old school, black and white, film based images, and creates photo sculptures from the results.
Blogging is inherently digital, (as I wrote,) so rather than showing reproductions of the images printed on plywood, I asked to show a group of the originals.
Her project is called “Things That Spill,” and my favorite part of her writing was:
“Does it ooze, like magma? Does it spill, like milk? Does it roll, like a wave? One with many in the ocean. By the by, it does, lest we remember to cry.”




Lidewij Mulder is Dutch, but currently lives in New York.
(Though I guessed incorrectly she was Polish.)
Lidewij is making conceptually driven, documentary images that explore masculinity. After our initial meeting, she did a shoot at a military base in Alabama, and sent me some of those pictures too.
Super-cool stuff.
She writes, of her project:
“The Great Pretender is a personal exploration of the multifaceted nature of modern masculinity among young adult men. As the concept of masculinity evolves and challenges traditional gender roles, a conflicting message has developed. This encourages men, on the one hand, to express emotions, vulnerabilities, and fears, but on the other, it also leaves conventional expectations intact.”




Maria Giovanna Giugliano is Italian, and it’s fair to call her photographs Baroque.
They’re grotesque, at times, and definitely sensual.
Arresting.
You look, but maybe you don’t want to look?
MGG wrote:
“Ordinary Pleasures retraces the visceral connection between humans and nature through food. In the whirlwind of consumer cravings, people have become detached from the origins of their food and the journey it takes before becoming one with their flesh.”




Last, but not least, we have Jake Salyers, a photographer in New York who had the most Gotham of projects.
Jake became interested in bird-watching, and documented the phenomenon and culture in NYC.
(Including the story of Flaco the owl, which became a news sensation.)
The pictures are terrific, and I’m sure it will become a book.
His statement says:
“At first glance, the dense urban jungle of New York City might seem like an uninviting home for nature lovers. But in this place, a beautiful, unexpected wildlife thrives; New York City is a site for world-class bird watching. Just Look Up is an examination of the birds that live and thrive in our urban environment and the people who obsess over them.”





Anyway, we’re done for today.
Catch you on the flip side, and hope all is well. -
Photobook Review: Paul Shambroom

It’s election season.
(Everyone knows this.)
I’ve been less engaged than in other Presidential contests, perhaps because I’ve felt stunned ever since the Biden-Trump debate this summer.
During my years as a columnist at A Photo Editor, I wrote about politics often, and some of my most memorable moments came from the Clinton-Trump debate in 2016, (which I watched in public at the Hammer Museum in LA,) and the Biden-Trump 2020 affair, in which Biden yelled, “Will you shut up, man!”
On both occasions, I had powerful, correct instincts towards a Trump, then Biden victory.
This time, though, I felt like Daniel Kaluuya in Get Out, as reality fell away and I descended into a paralyzed netherworld.
Biden couldn’t finish his sentences.
He stared into space like the worst caricature.
And Trump lied about doctors in Blue States murdering babies after they were born, with no pushback.
“Fuck,” I thought, “the Dems are toast if Biden is the nominee. It’s over.”
Image courtesy of the NYT
But Kamala replacing him, and Trump’s assassination attempt, happened so quickly, the news took on qualities of a fever dream.
And I read the news, extensively, every day.
Hence my conundrum.
In America these days, with a (nearly) evenly split republic, I suppose it might be easier to tune it all out.
But so few of us actually live in places balanced by the other side.
That, along with the ease with which social media promotes vitriol, is the main reason people can so easily demonize each other.
Prejudice is more difficult to maintain, if you meet, know, and like people from an out-group.
So a New Yorker living on the Upper East Side, who only travels to cosmopolitan places, or Deep Blue beach enclaves, can think whatever they like about some beefy Rancher from Central Texas, but the two are not likely to cross paths.
(Conversely, it makes the evil-city dwellers trying to invade Montana, in Yellowstone, 2-dimensional characters in the opposite direction.)
English actor Danny Huston playing a nefarious city-dweller/ unscrupulous land developer in Yellowstone. Image courtesy of Looper
Do I have a point in all this?
You bet I do.
Paul Shambroom sent me a copy of his new book, Purpletown, recently.
It features a multi-year project in which the artist traveled to municipalities in the US that were tied, or virtually tied, in the 2020 election.
Places that were evenly split, rather than just metaphorically.
These towns were located in States like Iowa, Illinois, Maine, Minnesota, Virginia, Oregon, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Washington, South Dakota and Colorado. (Maybe Georgia was in there too?)
They were towns all, with the exception of Colorado Springs, a small city on the southern end of the Denver Metro area.
(Which has some of the worst drivers I’ve ever encountered.)
It’s easy to appreciate the entirety of the book, and the scope of the project and commitment.
From the first page, it’s extremely well written and thought out, with many strong photos.
This is art as journalism, as Paul wanders, roams, but also interviews people, gets involved, learns, engages, and exercises his curiosity and creativity.
There are interview sections included in an appendix at the back, to go along with opening and closing statements.
I like the cover, the end papers, and the idea that focusing on places where people do coexist can perhaps teach us something.
Such conclusions as were drawn focused on the fact that most, if not all of these places had people who relied on their community members.
If you need people, and help them when they’re down, it’s harder to hate them because they prefer the other political party.
(I mean, there are only two choices, right?)
I like the photos, overall, (more than love them,) but they certainly give a visual sense of the visited places.
Overall, I think this is an excellent book, and was glad to spend time with it.








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The Jiu Jitsu Lifestyle

I saw a photo on Facebook the other day.
My uncle, brother and nephews, geared up for a round of golf.
The boys were wearing matching outfits, but everyone was attired in a similar style.
They smiled for the camera, in synch, and that was that.
It reminded me, though, of a poolside conversation from a couple of summers ago.
I was at my uncle’s house, and sat between him and my cousin, Jordan.
(Who’s made several appearances in my writing over the years. Great guy.)
My uncle was extolling the values of The Golf Lifestyle.
Doing business on the course.
Dinner at the club.
Friends.
Music.
Great people.
I mentioned that he seemed to be speaking past me, to my cousin, rather than to both of us.
Was it possible I wasn’t being invited into The Golf Lifestyle?
At the time, I was overweight, and probably unkempt. Drinking, smoking weed, eating way too much.
We were all partying that day, and of course I was just kidding, but as my uncle stammered, it was clear I’d struck a nerve.
I actually WASN’T being invited into The Golf Lifestyle.
Only Jordan, who politely declined.
I’m pretty sure that was September 2022, though there’s a chance it was May 2021.
Not that it matters, as I was in bad physical shape during both phases.
(I even used being overweight as a precondition to get an early Covid shot.)
Though I had creativity back then, to help with life stress, (and I did practice less difficult Martial Arts,) I was never truly fit.
Not since high school, when I played soccer, basketball, and was a sprinter on the track team.
Decades of relative inactivity...
... until I was pushed to sign up for Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.

I’ve given the background before, but the gist is, after my martial arts mentor, Dave Duran, passed away in 2022, I was looking for a guide.
My new Sifu, (now Professor,) Lawrence Garcia, who is the most lethal person I know, told me if I wanted to be an instructor in his Jeet Kune Do program, (Street MMA,) I had to study BJJ.
Fully commit.
I’d been scared to do so, hearing about all the injuries, especially as I’d trained 10 times or so in the past, and knew how grueling it could be.
Still, I didn’t have much going on, and felt it was the right time to challenge myself.
I took my free class at Jesse Jacquez BJJ at the end of January 2023, and signed a year contract the following week.
Which means I’ve been living The Jiu Jitsu lifestyle for more than a year and a half.
It’s changed me in such profound ways, and requires so much specificity at my age, (50,) that I wanted to write about it today.
The short version is, the amount of healthy practices one has to adopt, to keep going, is astonishing.
(Most people quit.)
Let me now extoll the virtues.
To start, I lost a lot of weight.
Fat melted off.
The cardio is intense, and all the losing breaks the spirt down from the jump.
(As BJJ classes require sparring each time.)
I started bulky, which led me to be overconfident throwing my weight around, (literally,) so the first injury was cauliflower ear.
Painful shit, but don’t lead with your head, is the lesson.
From there, it was some slightly torn cartilage in my ribs.
Then a torn big toe ligament.
Followed by having my scapula knocked out of alignment in JKD training.
I was clear for a few months, but then a slightly sprained neck in Nov 2023, a sprained knee in March 2024, and finally, the pinnacle, my slightly torn elbow ligament in mid July.
Almost anyone will tell you their injury list, and it’s recited with pride, though listeners often think the sport just sounds crazy.
But what has it made me adopt?
As I said, at first, I lost all the weight, but the repeated injuries spoke to my body’s misalignment.
(From old injuries/surgery.)
I responded by working on my flexibility/mobility, diving deep into yoga.
That lead me to the UNM-Taos Yoga Teacher Training Program, where Jessie and I took a 40 hour training.
I was more flexible, but not strong enough.
Eventually, you realize that weight is helpful, and Professor Lawrence encouraged me to start lifting.
I bought some kettlebells, and began doing functional strength workouts at home, along with the yoga, but was intimidated by the gym.
Still, I was losing, as my quickness and speed did nothing for me.
I lacked technique, and wasn’t strong enough to push back.
I’ve written about this in bits and pieces, but in order to feel stronger, I started making healthy protein fruit smoothies in the mornings, and then having two protein muscle milk shakes a day too.
Alcohol went away at some point, and then smoking.
(Now I just eat gummies.)
Each injury requires weeks/months of Hatha Yoga/Pilates, to work out the misalignment that led to the injury.
Over the course of the journey, I went from 185 lbs to 145, then put on 15 lbs of muscle to settle in around 160.
The last bit comes from taking creatine, and lifting weights for about 6 hours a week at the gym now. (3x a week.)
In order to support The Jiu Jitsu lifestyle, I have a healthier diet, don’t drink or smoke, I lift, have cardio, eat cleaner, and also do Qi Gong/ Tai Chi movements, to help keep the energy flowing.
I put my legs up on the bar at the gym, like a ballerina, and use neighborhood gates too.
(Flexiblity in body, mind and spirit.)


To get to the black belt level normally takes about 10 years.
That’s a decade of opening your hips, building your muscles, ripping and rebuilding your connective tissues, changing your self-belief.
Learning you can take a licking and keep on ticking.
Realizing challenges make us stronger, better versions of ourselves.
I know my family wouldn’t be moving to San Diego, had Amelie and I not started Jiu Jitsu.
Never.
Because moving is a difficult, stressful process.
So we break it down into pieces, knowing we can handle the pressure and keep going.
Looking back, I’m glad I wasn’t invited into The Golf Lifestyle.
The Jiu Jitsu Lifestyle isn’t for everyone, but it’s just right for me. (And Amelie.)
With her Gold and Silver at NAGA last month -
The Big Hiatus


The last vestiges of a San Clemente sunset Well, hello there.
I know it’s been a minute.
Back in the day, such things were normal, as TV basically went away in summer.
They called it the Hiatus.
(It was a thing.)
These days, as Youtube is the most watched streaming service, the idea that content would stop is ludicrous.
Get Z can not conceive of such a thing.
Which is why I see so many young people watching content on their phones in between sets at the gym.
I mostly do circuit training, with very little wait time, and prefer to space out and listen to the terrible 80’s music blasting through the speakers.
But that’s just me.
The Pacific, looking West With respect to taking time off from the blog, it wasn’t a planned thing.
We went to California at the end of July for a family vacation, which doubled as a scouting trip for our impending move.
(Currently scheduled for Xmas.)
Right before we left, one of my jiu jitsu training partners (slightly) tore my elbow.
It sucked, but as with my sprained knee, I dove hard into the rehab, with literal scores of hours doing Hatha Yoga and Pilates movements to open up locked fascia in my body.
Not only am I back to training again, but I was enticed to try the 6am open roll, with some higher belts, and waking up at 4:30 to drive 30 minutes for fight practice has enhanced my discipline for sure.
All of which is to say, I’ve been busy.
But you’re never fully out of my mind.
Early evening walk That said, today’s a short post, meant to LYK I haven’t forgotten you’re out there.
Waiting patiently.
Fortunately, you can expect more photography, food, and culture posts after Labor Day weekend.
I have some amazing photo portfolios to share from students at ICP in NYC, and at least one book that I need to review as well.
Hope you have a great holiday weekend! -
Secret Recipe: Mango Chicken Enchiladas


Back in the day, The Apple Tree restaurant was a Taos institution.
It lasted forever, but was eventually supplanted by Lambert’s, in the same space on Bent St.
No matter.
Longtime Taoseños remember their classic Mango Chicken Enchiladas, with green chile sauce, and some have tried to replicate it.
(Cid’s Market, another Taos institution, makes their own far inferior version.)
Thankfully, I gave a try on Monday, and it worked out perfectly.
Enchiladas, like some of the other casserole-style recipes I’ve shared, are things people more often eat at restaurants.
(Multi-step processes tend to weed people out, because they get intimidated.)
Today, I’d like to inspire you to try.
The key is to have a plan, so it doesn’t create wasted effort.
To make the chicken, I used my Instant Pot for pressure cooking. If you don’t have a pressure cooker, you can just braise.
I put 1 1/2 lbs of boneless, skinless chicken breast in the pot. Add about 3/4 cup of water, 1/4 cup of orange juice, then NM red chile powder, some Tapatio, salt, pepper, fresh squeezed lime juice, and a clove of garlic.
I pressure cooked it for 50 minutes, and then let it slow cook for another half hour or so.
When it’s done, shred the meat with a fork and spoon, and season it to taste.
For the green chile sauce, you need a pile of roasted NM green chile, which is in season this time of year.
(If you can’t access this, I’d recommend roasting poblanos, which are more readily available.)
Peel and seed the chile, then roughly chop it up.
Dice some garlic cloves, and heat up your skillet.
Sauté the diced garlic in some oil or butter, and when it’s lightly golden, add 1/4 cup of salted butter, and about 1 cup of flour to the pan to make a roux.
(This becomes the thickening agent to the chile sauce, just as it could for a gumbo.)
When the roux has a nice golden color, add the chile to the pan, and season it with salt and pepper.
Fill the pan with 2-3 cups of water, squeeze a full lime, and then splash some orange juice.
Let it cook for about 10 minutes, then blend with an immersion blender until mostly smooth, but with some texture left.
Season with a touch of sugar and/or honey to balance the heat, more lime if necessary, and let it simmer for about 20 minutes.
You should be good to go.
The next phase requires precooking the corn tortillas, to give them flavor and proper pliability.
(For this, I use my crepe skillet, but any skillet will do.)
Just heat the pan, spray or pour some oil each time, and make sure to add salt.
I like to cover the pan, which adds moist steam heat too, before finishing it w/o the lid.
Cover the tortillas as they stack on a plate when you’re done.
Much like the flatbread, this goes fast if you do it assembly-line style.
Because of my elbow, I asked Jessie to grate some cheese for me, which means technically I had a sous chef.
I used cheddar and Monterey jack, plus some pre-shredded Colby Jack as well.
I mention cheese here, because grating the cheese (and then rolling the enchiladas) is all that’s left.
For the mango, I used Bonne Maman mango jam, which tracks with the flavoring of my original inspiration.
(Fresh mango would be great too, but might adjust the moisture content.)
To assemble the enchiladas, (before baking,) coat the bottom of your casserole pan with a layer of chile sauce.
Then, it’s back to the assembly line.
Fill one tortilla with chicken and a scoop of mango jam, roll it, and place it in the pan.
I ended up with 16 rolls.
Then cover with chile sauce, a thick layer of cheese, and the last bit of reserved chile.
(I also spooned some of the braising liquid over the top, but that’s optional.)
Bake at 350 for about an hour, and you are good to go.
It was so tasty, and we had half left over for tonight’s dinner.
Happy Cooking!
Ingredients for the chile sauce 
The roux in the pan 
The shredded chicken in braising liquid 
Cooking a tortilla with salt in the skillet 
Don’t overstuff each rolled enchilada 


So good! -
Secret Recipe: Homemade Flatbread

My kids just came home from camp.
It was our first break in 17 years, if you can believe it, though there weren’t that many full-days-off.
There’s a hippie sleep-away camp two valleys North of here, in Lama, and both children attended for the first time.
(Theo was a counselor, and had borrowed his grandpa’s truck, so we saw him quite a bit.)
Still, there were days at a time when we had no kids, and while I was hoping for fun and adventure, the body has its own wisdom.
I got sick for the first two weeks of the month, and then Jessie was under the weather.
Our pre-move, house renovation ran long, (no surprise,) so we had workmen here the whole time too.
Not a joyous break, by any means, but we did decompress and rest up for our impending pre-move, scouting trip/vacation to SoCal.
I built the energy reserve, such as it is, because I definitely had to cook and food-shop less when the kids were away.
(A tween and a teen, athletes both, they eat A LOT.)
Once they got home this past weekend, I went on a cooking tear.
Saturday night was Japanese fajitas, in which I adapted the recipe I previously shared by substituting skirt steak, and a soy based marinade. (Served with brown rice.)
Sunday was chicken parmesan with “thick spaghetti,” (a distinct product from spaghetti,) which I did in a traditional style.
Breaded, pan-fried cutlets, a layer of spinach, fresh mozzarella, shaved parmesan cheese, in a kalamata olive/fresh tomato marinara.
Yesterday was the biggest day of all, though, as I created a new recipe that had been on my mind for a week:
Fresh, homemade flatbread.
Jessie picks up hummus for the kids regularly, and we’d been discussing adding more chickpeas to our diet.
Buying flatbread in the store, though, is no fun.
It’s expensive, (here in Taos,) and normally comes with tons of preservatives, which are potential forever chemicals.
Other brands, which try to skate by with less preservatives, sell products which are often spoiled when you buy them.
Just last week, I was about to bite into a mini-naan that Jessie had purchased that day, and my photographer’s eye spotted some mold just before I ate it.
(Better than after.)
Given that flatbread goes well with so many types of food, (Middleastern, Indian, Greek, to name a few,) I was frustrated at my options.
I had an idea in my mind of how to do it, (my pancakes, waffles, bread and pizza are strong,) but decided to hit up the internet to look over a few recipes, just to see if I was close.
I’d been planning to use the pizza stone in the oven, but learned it’s easier, (and probably better,) in a skillet with a little oil.
Armed with that technical wisdom, I went for it yesterday, to big success.
How do you do it?
Surprisingly easy, so I highly recommend you try it out.
My recipe was:
About 3/4 cup warm water
3 cups all purpose flour
1 1/2 t baking powder
1 1/2 t salt
1 1/2 t sugar
3 T whole greek yogurt
2 T extra virgin olive oil
Mix all the ingredients together, (starting with the flour and water,) until it becomes a slightly dry dough.
Meaning, it shouldn’t be tacky, but don’t make it too dry/dense either.
Reserve the dough, covered with a tea towel, for 30 minutes.
After proofing, lightly knead the dough out on your cutting board, with a bit more flour, and then cut into equal sized pieces, which you roll into a balls.
(I made 10-12 total, but didn’t think to count.)
Heat a skillet, roll out each ball with a bit more flour on the cutting board, add some olive oil spray to the pan, and chuck in your flat bread.
Cook until you see some color on the first side, then flip it.
(Each bread takes 2-3 minutes total.)
Stack them on a plate, cover with a towel to keep warm, and eat them your favorite way, when they’re hot.
I had some with humus and olives for breakfast, (piping hot,) then made chana masala for dinner, and we ate them as naan.
(Boil your chickpeas in a pressure cooker, then make an onion based, Indian-spiced tomato curry, and add the cooked chickpeas to make a stew.)
All told, fresh flatbread and then homemade Indian food in one day was a lot.
But cooking is art, and everything tasted great, so I came out of the experience inspired and proud.
(Well fed too.)
Hope you enjoy some cooking!







-
Photo Feature Friday: Torrance York

Not gonna lie.
It was fun writing yesterday’s highly critical article.
(Crushing bad art feels good.)
It’s been a while since I was a regular critic, as I don’t use Sunshine and Olly the same way I did my 11 year column at A Photo Editor.
I prefer it this way, as living inside a critic’s mind means constantly looking for flaws.
It’s possible I needed a long break to rejuvenate my own creativity, as now that I’m making art again, I feel lighter.
More positive.
Optimistic.
Frankly, for many years, I felt that having a creative outlet was crucial to health.
I still believe that, but now know that creativity alone won’t work. We also need physical exercise, (in large amounts,) as well as IRL socialization.
During the pandemic, I thought working online, and maintaining relationships that way, could lead me to success and happiness.
(No such luck.)
That said, creative pursuits are not only powerful, but in some cases, they can be life-saving. (Or at least lead to almost miraculous levels of healing.)
As always, I have a point, rather than just spouting off. (Especially as it’s a holiday week. No plans to waste your precious time.)
So what am I on about?
Today, I’m sharing a portfolio from Torrance York, an artist I “met” at the online Exposure portfolio review, put on by LACP last year.
And it’s about as positive a use of art as you’re likely to find.
Unfortunately, Torrance was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease 9 years ago, which is the second leading brain illness after Alzheimer’s.
Jessie’s best friend Laurel has the same condition, and each week, they have an online dance party, as movement and art have been proven to improve the serious symptoms, mostly associated with a loss of motor skills.
(Though reading Torrance’s literature, I learned the issue is primarily with dopamine production.)
The series we’ll see a part of is called Semaphore, a term that relates to a coded symbology. (Originally associated with flags.)
The project was meant to reflect the difference in Torrance’s lived experience, but also represents her personal efforts to use art to manage, or perhaps combat, the debilitation.
Not only is it working for her, (giving joy, purpose, and symptom relief,) but she’s also become an advocate, using exhibitions, lectures and publications to spread the word.
In fact, she currently has a show up at the Lightburn Gallery at the New Canaan Library, (in Connecticut,) and will be doing programming with them later this month, along with a lecture with Open Show LA in July as well.
Art has been a part of my entire adult life.
Some years, (like the last few, when my career has been on ice,) I lose sight of the bigger picture.
It’s been almost a decade now since I taught photography to at-risk youth, (which I did for 11 years,) and it wears away at my idealism.
(Not sure if that happens to you as well.)
So today’s post is in honor of Torrance York, and her brave fight against PD, but it’s also meant to offer you some inspiration.
The Bear angered me, because it gave up on hope, and embraced nihilism.
Torrance York has done no such thing.















