What is is? To find out, visit Giant Steps at King Street Station in Seattle, which runs thru this weekend – you’ll find Harpo + Groucho there. Only this time the wrong way iz up…
Monthly Archives: March 2016
Savory Raw Zucchini Chip
Harpo & I get tired of sweet food on trail – even thinking about all the processed sugar stacked on convinience store shelves in trail towns is making my teeth hurt – so we’ve been experimenting with various homemade savory snacks. Our latest most successful venture iz zucchini chips.
These are light and crispy. They dehydrate better without oil – salting the zucchini first and sweating it for a few minutes helps to bind the yeast. Although they’re not super calorie dense, they are tasty and super easy to prepare. They make an awesome vehicle for hummus or refried beans, or crumbled on soup. It’s kindof a bummer that zucchini are mostly water, so you lose a lot of weight in dehydrating – but they’re cheaper by weight to produce than kale chips soooo…
- 6 large zucchini
- 2 cups nutritional yeast
- Coarse sea salt
- Fresh ground black pepper
- Smoked paprika (optional)
- Thinly slice the zucchini. You can use a mandoline if you like.
- Toss with nut yeast, salt & pepper
- Add smoked paprika for BBQ flavor if desired. Also maybe garlic powder.
- Place in single layers on dehydrator trays.
- Dehydrate on 105 degrees for about 8-12 hours depending on the thickness of the slices. Keeping the temperature at or below 105 is important to keep the chips “raw.”
Hazy Days on the Duckabush River
I’ve been battling a sense of aimlessness coming back from the trail. I often find myself drifting through interstitial spaces with a blank stare – a dissociated look, distracted by speed and movement, looking for some distant horizon but surprised instead only seeing dumpsters, closed windows and construction barriers in excruciating detail.
After thru hiking the Appalachian Trail in 2013 I immediately started working on a gallery show with New Mystics and had a performance with Saint Genet scheduled for the summer. Returning to the comforts of the known was satisfying – the measured productivity of work, the intellectual engagement of art making, the support of the crew. Even if Harpo and I didn’t have a permanent address we still had each other, even after spending the previous weeks battling ice storms in Georgia.
It’s unnerving, returning again.Coming back from the PCT has been a familiar animal in a different skin. After so many peregrinations the connection between my body and the body politic seemed unravelled, tenuous. Feeling alien in a hostile landscape, I find myself trying to conjure images of plenitude that somehow always seem two dimensional and unfulfilling, grasping at the tattered ends of some familiar memory faded by sun and worn thin by absence.
The easy, transportable sense of home that comes from pitching a tarp wherever you end up is harder to attain in the city. The sense of purpose inherent in the continual forward motion of thru hiking make feeling at home easy on trail. A community is simply manifest because a sense of commonality is clear – we’re all here in the woods together, mostly doing the same thing – escaping the city.
The city – a multifaceted and fractured beast – rapidly transforms itself, always eating it’s own tail. It’s hard to hold on because of the rapidly shifting topography; every memory becomes unrooted and unreal as the architecture that housed it changes or disappears. People are all travelling on different vectors, subject to unknown or unknowable forces, riding strange waves towards disseperate futures. It can feel isolating, as if everything is moving away from an invisible center you’ve just accidentally arrived at.
The pressure of architecture, the continual compression of dense human consciousness, the alienation originating in feeling alone in a crowd provides a contrast to the expansive space of nature, where details are infinitely complex yet uncrowded, quiet yet never silent. Swallowed by that quiet, resting in the belly of the Earth, I feel secure again. My sense of discontinuity fades away as I’m soaked by the pouring rain, as I traverse icy streams with frozen toes, as my perception creeps closer to my reality. This kind of loneliness is satisfying…