The Othering of America

It is unacceptable. Our neighbors are being taken and we don't know where they are being taken. As we start our 249th year as a country, we are in the midst of a movement of "othering" black and brown people in general and immigrants specifically. ICE agents, wearing masks, tactile gear, semi-automatic weapons, and dark glasses, operating without badges or warrents are very similar to kidnappers. The "process of othering" involves categorizing people into groups and emphasizing differences to create a distinction between an "us" and a "them," often leading to the marginalization and stigmatization of the "them". This process frequently involves assigning negative stereotypes and reinforcing power imbalances. Here's a breakdown of the process: 1. Categorization: . Individuals or groups are categorized based on perceived differences, such as ethnicity, religion, gender, or other characteristics. 2. Othering: . This categorized group is then positioned as fundamentally different from the "in-group" or "us". 3. Dehumanization: . In extreme cases, this can lead to dehumanization, where the "othered" group is seen as less than human, potentially justifying discrimination, abuse, or even violence. 4. Reinforcement of Identity: . The process of othering helps solidify the identity of the "in-group" by defining itself in opposition to the "out-group". Othering can have serious consequences, including human rights violations, prejudice, and social exclusion. It is a common tactic used to justify conflict, discrimination, and violence. Understanding the mechanisms of othering is crucial for promoting inclusivity and challenging these harmful practices. Having just watched "I'm Still Here" about the disappeance of people the government wanted to silence in Brazil, I am struck by how many times history has repeated itself. The Nazi playbook holds a lot of appeal for the Republican party. It is time to do what they do, which is othering those who do not agree with them, calling them by labels that largely don't fit--as a twist on their playbook, just be truthful. Their policies are racist. They are White Supremacists. They are fascists. They disregard the Rule of Law. They are terrorists. Call your congress people and ask them to do their jobs, but know who they are. Morally bankrupt. There is no healing this, there is only protesting for the country that my ancestors founded.

Oh Canada!

Happy Canada Day! It seems especially important to state the obvious, that I respect Canada's sovereignty. It is a great big beautiful country that is all it's own, and nothing like the United States. While it wasn't always so, they embrace their French past, and bilingual signs are seen coast to coast. You do not see that in the United States, not even in the seven states that were part of Mexico until 1848. We get why you are boycotting us. I would too. I am on a commerce diet altogether, in fact. My personal spending on goods is down. My confidence in the economy is at an all time low. The Guardian reported that 64% of Canadians now hold unfavourable views of the US, and nearly 40% say they hold very unfavourable views of their neighbour, up from 15% who felt that way last year. Sixty-four percent of Canadians now hold unfavourable views of the US, and nearly 40% say they hold very unfavourable views of their neighbour, up from 15% who felt that way last year. Only one-third of Canadians (34%) think positively of their southern neighbour today, compared with 54% last year. Canadian wariness towards the US is also reflected in new travel data from Statistics Canada, which found return trips by air fell nearly 25% in May 2025 compared with the same month in 2024. Canadian-resident return trips by automobile dropped by nearly 40% – the fifth consecutive month of year-over-year declines. It is amazing how quickly your brand can be damaged when you try mess with sovereignty. So celebrate your day, and according to the Pew Research Center, 74% of Americans have a favorable view of you.

Forty Four Years

What a long strange trip it has been. It all started here, in a 19th Victorian mansion turned cooperative living house in Providence, I from the West Coast and he from the East. We could have met at a Grateful Dead concert in the fall of 1977 but we did not (there were over 100,000 people there, so perhaps not surprising)--the first concert we saw together was Bob Marley in the fall of 1980, which was both a great concert and amongst the last that he performed--these two concerts did set the tone for many great shared musical experiences over the ensuing years. We loved much of the same music and we loved seeing it live. Our attendance at concerts dwindled over the years after we had children, and included more orquestral than modern music, but another truism of our early years was travel, and that has been a constant ever since. We love being on the road, talking with local people, exploring art,architecture, landscapes, and best of all, experiencing the local food. As of this very moment we have lived in surprisingly few houses--seven--had twelve dogs (one less than the 13 cars we have collectively owned, at least when you exclude the ones that were bought largely for offspring to drive), four children, three grandchilden and sadly, only three cats, the last of which we had to gift to my parents when it became clear that my spouse was allergic. It has been a bed of roses, with sweetness and thorns. We have weathered cancer in a child and my own cancer, the terrible losses they both wrecked, and the frightening reality that while we all die in the end, that that end might have come sooner rather than later for us. We have also had great strokes of luck and been able to recognize it as such and to savor it. I am so grateful for what we have built together, and hope for many more years to keep up the good work.

Friendsgiving

Back in our younger days, when our kids were small, we went to a friend Thanksgiving, usually the weekend beofre the actual holiday, that was kind of a blowout affair. The meal was a pot luck, the host had an impressive wine cellar, and it was the sort of debauchery that you wouldn't want your kids to witness. As we got a bit older, the chenanigans ebbed, the wine got even better (the host had a bottle from each of our birth years, for example), and it was a welcome time to catch up with each other and to enjoy the traditional meal with the family that you choose. As out kids got older, they wanted a friends Thanksgiving, so we would have family of Thursday and that Sunday, when everyone who had gone out of town to celebrate, we had a massive do-over meal with our local friends and their families, often spread all over out first floor with furniture moved aside and lots of tables snaking through the rooms. Then the kids left home, and their friends as well as some of ours, moved on, and we were down to one traditional meal--but this year, the original host of our original friends Thanksgiving threw another one, for old time's sake, and it made we wonder why we ever gave it up! Happy holidays to all.

Happy Halloween! An estimated 67% of Americans will give out candy today, according to the National Retail Federation. Tomorrow is the day that those who celebrate will venerate their dead, followed by turning our clocks back an hour on Sunday, and voting on Tuesday, where hopefully we will not turn the damn country back a 100 years or more. 1. Election countdown With five days until Election Day, former President Donald Trump and Vice President Kamala Harris both have viable paths to the White House. Polls show the race is neck and neck — and could be decided by small numbers of voters in a single battleground state. The candidates are focusing on seven key states in their final campaign sprint: Pennsylvania, Michigan, Wisconsin, Arizona, Nevada, North Carolina and Georgia. Trump was in Wisconsin on Wednesday, where he broke out the props and seized on a garbled remark by President Joe Biden that seemed to insult Trump voters as “garbage.” Biden has denied calling Trump supporters “garbage,” saying his comment on a call Tuesday had been misinterpreted. 2. It's The Economy Several economists and officials have told CNN the economy has finally pulled off a soft landing, in which inflation is tamed without a recession — an exceptionally rare achievement. Gross domestic product, which measures all the goods and services produced in the economy, expanded at an annualized rate of 2.8% in the third quarter, the Commerce Department said Wednesday. That’s a slightly weaker pace than the second quarter’s 3% rate and above the 2.6% rate economists projected in a FactSet poll. Wednesday’s report comes after earlier data showed the economy added a whopping 254,000 jobs in September, inflation is a whisper away from the Federal Reserve’s 2% target and consumer confidence jumped this month by the fastest clip since March of 2021 — all signs of a robust economy. The bad news is that this doesn't seem to sway voters, but it will make the initial path for the next president easier. 3. Extreme weather At least 95 people have been killed by severe flash floods in Spain, according to authorities on Wednesday, as emergency responders scramble to find dozens of missing people. In the worst-affected region of Valencia, 92 people were killed and around 1,200 are thought to still be trapped, local officials said. Separately, Taiwan’s largest storm since 1996 made landfall today with heavy rains and damaging winds equivalent to a Category 3 Atlantic hurricane. The storm, known as Typhoon Kong-rey, has killed at least one person and injured dozens of others. This will be a task for the next administration to face--will they be up to it? So have fun today because the next week gets very scary indeed.

In This Place by Amanda Gorman

There’s a poem in this place— in the footfalls in the halls in the quiet beat of the seats. It is here, at the curtain of day, where America writes a lyric you must whisper to say. There’s a poem in this place— in the heavy grace, the lined face of this noble building, collections burned and reborn twice. There’s a poem in Boston’s Copley Square where protest chants tear through the air like sheets of rain, where love of the many swallows hatred of the few. There’s a poem in Charlottesville where tiki torches string a ring of flame tight round the wrist of night where men so white they gleam blue— seem like statues where men heap that long wax burning ever higher where Heather Heyer blooms forever in a meadow of resistance. There’s a poem in the great sleeping giant of Lake Michigan, defiantly raising its big blue head to Milwaukee and Chicago— a poem begun long ago, blazed into frozen soil, strutting upward and aglow. There’s a poem in Florida, in East Texas where streets swell into a nexus of rivers, cows afloat like mottled buoys in the brown, where courage is now so common that 23-year-old Jesus Contreras rescues people from floodwaters. There’s a poem in Los Angeles yawning wide as the Pacific tide where a single mother swelters in a windowless classroom, teaching black and brown students in Watts to spell out their thoughts so her daughter might write this poem for you. There's a lyric in California where thousands of students march for blocks, undocumented and unafraid; where my friend Rosa finds the power to blossom in deadlock, her spirit the bedrock of her community. She knows hope is like a stubborn ship gripping a dock, a truth: that you can’t stop a dreamer or knock down a dream. How could this not be her city su nación our country our America, our American lyric to write— a poem by the people, the poor, the Protestant, the Muslim, the Jew, the native, the immigrant, the black, the brown, the blind, the brave, the undocumented and undeterred, the woman, the man, the nonbinary, the white, the trans, the ally to all of the above and more? Tyrants fear the poet. Now that we know it we can’t blow it. We owe it to show it not slow it although it hurts to sew it when the world skirts below it. Hope— we must bestow it like a wick in the poet so it can grow, lit, bringing with it stories to rewrite— the story of a Texas city depleted but not defeated a history written that need not be repeated a nation composed but not yet completed. There’s a poem in this place— a poem in America a poet in every American who rewrites this nation, who tells a story worthy of being told on this minnow of an earth to breathe hope into a palimpsest of time— a poet in every American who sees that our poem penned doesn’t mean our poem’s end. There’s a place where this poem dwells— it is here, it is now, in the yellow song of dawn’s bell where we write an American lyric we are just beginning to tell.

The Good Part, That Shall Not Be Taken Away by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Longfellow wrote a body of work that the proceeds of went to the Anti-Slavery movement, and this is one of those poems. She dwells by Great Kenhawa's side, In valleys green and cool; And all her hope and all her pride Are in the village school. Her soul, like the transparent air That robes the hills above, Though not of earth, encircles there All things with arms of love. And thus she walks among her girls With praise and mild rebukes; Subduing e'en rude village churls By her angelic looks. She reads to them at eventide Of One who came to save; To cast the captive's chains aside And liberate the slave. And oft the blessed time foretells When all men shall be free; And musical, as silver bells, Their falling chains shall be. And following her beloved Lord, In decent poverty, She makes her life one sweet record And deed of charity. For she was rich, and gave up all To break the iron bands Of those who waited in her hall, And labored in her lands. Long since beyond the Southern Sea Their outbound sails have sped, While she, in meek humility, Now earns her daily bread. It is their prayers, which never cease, That clothe her with such grace; Their blessing is the light of peace That shines upon her face.

Shiloh: A Requiem

Best known as the author of Moby-Dick, Melville was also a talented poet. This work is a meditation on a major battle from the Civil War. Skimming lightly, wheeling still, The swallows fly low Over the field in clouded days, The forest-field of Shiloh— Over the field where April rain Solaced the parched ones stretched in pain through the pause of night That followed the Sunday fight Around the church of Shiloh— The church so lone, the log-built one, That echoed to many a parting groan And natural prayer Of dying foemen mingled there— Foemen at morn, but friends at eve— Fame or country least their care: (What like a bullet can undeceive!) But now they lie low, While over them the swallows skim, And all is hushed at Shiloh.

Earth Beautiful

This is a view I have seen dozens of times--it is on the road between our house in the Tetons and town, and yet every single time I pass it, I am struck by it's beauty, it's simplicity, and it's link between the present and the past in the American West. Today is Earth Day, created in 1970 as a day for environmental education, stemming directing from the publicationin 1962 of Rachel Carson's SIlent Spring, an indictment on man's assault on the earth, using DDT as the index poison. Here is a paragraph from that thin volume: "Who has made the decision that sets in motion these chains of poisonings, this ever-widening wave of death that spreads out, like ripples when a pebble is dropped into a still pond? Who has placed in one pan of the scales the leaves that might have been eaten by the beetles and in the other the pitiful heaps of many-hued feathers, the lifeless remains of the birds that fell before the unselective bludgeon of insecticidal poisons? Who has decided—who has the right to decide— for the countless legions of people who were not consulted that the supreme value is a world without insects, even though it be also a sterile world ungraced by the curving wing of a bird in flight?"

Matza Balls and Musings

I love the first holidays of spring, not because of the religious significance--which is very meaningful for many people, but less so for me--but for the celebration of the season itself. It has been an easy winter for me. The darkness was less of a mood buzz kill (for reasons that escape me--I had three vacations, all to a place that was a little colder and much snowier than where I live) and it wasn't too grey or too cold. None-the-less, I love it when the days get longer, our mint and chives are back in a very tender and fragile state, and there are spring vegetables in the market. So for me, there are two foods that I cannot get enough of this time of year. The first is asparagus. I like it very simply prepared, and I could have it twice a week for the months of April and May. Our home patch is not producing at quite that level, but I like that we have one as well. The other is matza ball soup, which amazingly I do not even make myself, but it is my favorite part of the Passover meal (this year we have our usual homemade chicken stock with traditional matza balls, a vegan soup, a gluten free ball, and various combinations were served), and then I love having them every single day of the week long break from all things wheat that are not matza based. So happy spring and enjoy the bounty.

Celebrate April

Passover and Easter travel together on the calendar--the last supper was, after all, a seder, it makes a lot of sense--and this year Ramadan, which travels around the calendar, falls in line with these other two major celebrations. The fact is that this overlap is not being celebrated, but rather highlighting the differences. I am not one to be tribal when it comes to religion--I mix with all sorts and enjoy the differences. I see it as a point of learning at best, and at least not something to drive a wedge between people, and I feel like many people share this view. That is unexciting when it comes to filling up a 24 hour news cycle, so instead what I hear and read are stories of violence related to religion. So I am on a bit of a media slow down--I did check on the elections in Wisconisin this week, but otherwise giving the news a hard pass and enjoying the celebration.

Green Bean Casserole

This was a rich yet amazing variation on a classic Thanksgiving holiday side dish. 2½ pounds haricots verts or French green beans, trimmed and cut into 1-inch pieces 1 pound hen of the woods mushrooms (or cremini, oyster or other mushroom), cut into bite-size pieces 2 large shallots, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced into half-moons 4 garlic cloves, minced 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil Kosher salt and black pepper 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour 3 cups heavy cream or half-and-half 1 teaspoon Cajun seasoning ½ teaspoon onion powder ½ teaspoon garlic powder ½ teaspoon chicken base concentrate (or ½ bouillon cube) ¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg 1¾ cups shredded or grated Parmesan 1 cup panko bread crumbs 2 cups store-bought or homemade fried shallots or onions Step 1 Heat oven to 400 degrees. Coat a 9-by-13 baking dish with nonstick cooking spray. On a rimmed sheet pan lined with parchment paper, toss together green beans, mushrooms, sliced shallots, garlic and olive oil; season with salt and pepper to taste then spread evenly on the pan. Roast until the vegetables brown in spots and soften, about 30 minutes, tossing halfway through. (Alternatively, if you want the green beans extra soft, set them on an unlined sheet pan, add 3 tablespoons water, cover with aluminum foil, and cook until the vegetables are slightly firmer than you want in the end result, about 30 to 45 minutes.) Step 2 Meanwhile, in a large saucepan over medium-low heat, melt the butter, then add the flour. Cook for about 1 to 2 minutes, whisking constantly until it comes together and begins to turn golden in color. Step 3 Add heavy cream and whisk until it starts to thicken, 6 to 8 minutes. Add the Cajun seasoning, onion and garlic powders, chicken base, nutmeg and ½ teaspoon pepper. Whisk to combine, then add 1½ cups Parmesan until melted. Taste and adjust seasonings. Step 4 When the green beans are cooked, add them to the saucepan, and toss to coat until mixture is thoroughly heated. Transfer green bean mixture to the baking dish. Step 5 In a medium bowl, combine bread crumbs, fried shallots and the remaining ¼ cup Parmesan. Spread evenly over the top of the casserole. Step 6 Set the broiler to high, and broil until brown and bubbly (don’t walk away!), about 1 to 2 minutes. Serve hot.

Grass by Carl Sandburg

Today is Veteran's Day, but it is also Armistice Day, marking the end of World War I. At the time it was thought to be the war to end all wars, but it didn't turn out that way. A Pulitzer Prize winner, Sandburg was a Swedish-American poet who was prized for his genius with words. In this work, the narrator reflects on past wars and their lasting effects. Pictured here is a WWI battlefield. Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me work— I am the grass; I cover all. And pile them high at Gettysburg And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun. Shovel them under and let me work. Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor: What place is this? Where are we now? I am the grass. Let me work.

The Freedom of Privacy

I came of age in what was apparently a golden age of women being near equal citizens to men in the United States. The Supreme Court, illigitimately composed by the GOP voted to overturn Roe vs. Wade, saying that it was a 50 year long mistake that needed rectifying by a majority that includes a rapist, a sexual harrassing misogynist who's wife should be prosecuted for plotting the overthrow of the government, liars all at their confirmation hearings. It is gauling and appalling that my granddaughter's face more restrictions than I did. The Handmaid's Tale was actually a blueprint for the future that the current SCOTUS took to heart to make a reality rather than a work of fiction. What remains to be seen is what will voters do about it. We already know that Republicans are surpressing the ability of black and brown people to vite, and that they control state government in many states, even purple ones. So in order to turn the tide against this tyranny, it will take overwhelming nmumbers of people who do not usually vote to trun out. Will this and the January 6th inquiries light that kind of fire under voters at the midterm elections? I hope and pray they do, because it really an emergency. I am so very angry. Who will join me?

End of Slavery

June 19, 1865 is the last day of institutional slavery in the United States and a day worth celebrating. The 21st century reckoning with that past is as important to recognize as it is to mark the historical event. White supremacy is an integral part of the history of the United States from the very beginning. All but two US Presidents who were adults prior to the Civil War owned slaves. The White House, the home of the President, the highest office in the land, was built by enslaved people. I know all this, and yet I was still niave enough to think that we had come a long way. That was before I did a deep dive into Balzac's The Human Comedy, where man is stripped down to the basest and most common of desires, and religion is an instrument of the rich and powerful. We are indeed doomed to repeat our mistakes unless we are loud and clear that this is indeed who we were and who we will continue to be unless we do an about face.

Vigil Strange I Kept On The Field One Night by Walt Whitman

Memorial Day is not so much about BBQ and the edge of summer, but rather about war and those who experience it. Thinking of Ukraine, invaded and it's citizens tortured, raped, murdered and robbed, and hoping there is a just end to it. Alt Whitman is an American poet known for such groundbreaking works as Leaves of Grass, but he also witnessed the horrors of the Civil War unfold during his lifetime. In this poem, the narrator contemplates a soldier slain by war. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night; When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day, One look I but gave which your dear eyes return’d with a look I shall never forget, One touch of your hand to mine O boy, reach’d up as you lay on the ground, Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle, Till late in the night reliev’d to the place at last again I made my way, Found you in death so cold dear comrade, found your body son of responding kisses, (never again on earth responding,) Bared your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blew the moderate night-wind, Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battle-field spreading, Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night, But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed, Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side leaning my chin in my hands, Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest comrade—not a tear, not a word, Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier, As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole, Vigil final for you brave boy, (I could not save you, swift was your death, I faithfully loved you and cared for you living, I think we shall surely meet again,) Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appear’d, My comrade I wrapt in his blanket, envelop’d well his form, Folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully over head and carefully under feet, And there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude-dug grave I deposited, Ending my vigil strange with that, vigil of night and battle-field dim, Vigil for boy of responding kisses, (never again on earth responding,) Vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, how as day brighten’d, I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket, And buried him where he fell.

Jingle Jangle (2020)

I meant to watch this last holiday season, when a song from this jubilant Christmas musical was short listed for an Oscar. The season got turned upside down for us last year (COVID), and the song didn't make the nominee list and by the time I was done watching Oscar movies it was April, and let's just say that over the top Christmas movies should not be eatched in spring. So we made it happen this year. This is a sprawling musical extravaganza whose candy-colored, dandily overstuffed revelry spills over with joy and jubilance. It even has a hint of being at an in person performance, which of course we are all pacing ourselves with these days with omicrom rising (I am finally learning the Greek alphabet in order after all these years of just recognizing the letters but not knowing the exact order, mores the pity). It has a talented and largely all black cast which is just an added bonus. The story has a hopeful beginning, a bah humbug middle and the obligatory happy ending, all wrapped up in the magic of imagination and possibility. Tis the season!

Southern Corn Pudding

Corn pudding in some variation is a regular on our holiday table, and living in a corn producing state we always have corn from the summer socked away in the freezer to sustain us through the winter. This version is completely gluten free, which is a plus if you have someone in your family who can't do gluten, and it is richer than what I usually make. 1 tablespoon unsalted butter, plus more for greasing the pan 1 large white or yellow onion, finely diced 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt, plus more for the onions 2 garlic cloves, smashed, peeled, and minced 1 teaspoon ground mustard 1 cup heavy cream 1/2 cup buttermilk 3 large eggs 1 teaspoon hot sauce 3 cups fresh corn kernels (from about 4 cobs) 3/4 cup grated sharp-as-possible cheddar 6 tablespoons cornmeal 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder Set a medium skillet over medium heat and add the butter. When it’s melted, add the onion and a pinch of salt. Sauté for 10 to 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until soft. Turn off the heat. Add the garlic and mustard, and stir. Let cool while you tend to the rest of the recipe. Heat the oven to 350° F. Butter a 9x9 inch baking dish (or other 1 1/2 quart–sized baking dish). Combine the cream, buttermilk, eggs, 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, and hot sauce in a bowl or measuring cup. Whisk with a fork until smooth. Combine the corn kernels, cheddar, cornmeal, and baking powder in another, larger bowl. Stir with a spoon or rubber spatula until combined. Add the cooled onion mixture and stir. Add the liquid mixture and stir. Pour into the prepared baking dish. Bake for about 45 minutes until the casserole has puffed up, is deeply browned along the edges, and browning on top. Cool for a few minutes before serving.

Apple Cornbread Stuffed Pork Loin

My eldest son always makes a rolled meat entree for Thanksgiving to serve alongside the turkey and this was this years version. It was absolutely delicious and very pretty to serve--very enjoyable, and if the cornbread is prepped ahead or purchased, then it is pretty quick to put together. 4 tablespoons butter, unsalted 1 small Granny Smith apple, peeled and finely chopped 2 ribs celery, finely chopped 1/2 medium onion, finely chopped 2 tablespoons fresh sage, chopped 1 cup (236 ml) chicken or vegetable stock 1/4 teaspoon salt Pinch of ground black pepper 1 cup homemade or store bought cornbread 1/4 cup (32 grams) dried cranberries. 2 pound (1 kg) pork loin In a large skillet, melt the butter over medium-low heat. Add the apple, celery, onion and sage. Cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the chicken stock and salt, cook for 5 minutes. Add the cornbread, stir to mix well until all the cornbread has absorbed the liquid. Mix in the dried cranberries and allow to cool for 15 minutes. Preheat oven to 375°F/190°C. Reference the images, start cuting the pork lengthwise starting on the right (if you’re right handed, start on the left if you’re left handed) about ¼ inch above the cutting board and slowly slice the meat. Slice and look, making sure you are keep the same thickness. Don’t worry if it’s a little off and uneven, you can fix this at the end. Once flat, season lightly and evenly with salt and pepper. Place an even layer of the stuffing all over the pork then roll up and tie with kitchen string. Place onto a baking sheet and season with salt, pepper and dried sage. Roast for 45 until the internal temperature reads 140°F on a meat thermometer. Make sure the thermometer is in the meat, not the cornbread stuffing. Remove from the oven, transfer to a cutting board and allow to rest for 10 minutes before slicing.

Local Thanks

The pandemic has made me more of a home body--I suppose that is true for most of us, but it wasn't a burden to be so isolated, at least some of the time, and I have been even more focused on being able to get food that is localas a result. We are long time CSA supporters, and have bought meat directly from the farmer for over three decades. Now I am really loving a Thanksgiving where many of the things on the table were grown in or near the county I live in. I am eating an apple from a local farm even as I write this, at the end of January, I am still able to have this experience, and feel very blessed about that. Happy day of thanks to you and yours.