We love grapefruit in our house, so I had to try these. Truth be told, they didn’t taste terribly different than lemon poppyseed, but there was a subtle grapefruitiness to them, especially in the glaze.
This recipe was adapted from Girl Versus Dough. I didn’t have whole wheat pastry flour on hand so I improvised as noted below. I used less milk than the original calls for and ended up needing to add some flour at the end. I’ve reflected these changes in the recipe as best I can.
GLAZED GRAPEFRUIT POPPYSEED MUFFINS
For the muffins:
⅔ cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon grapefruit zest (from about 1 large grapefruit)
⅓ cup vegetable oil
¼ cup poppy seeds
1 tablespoon grapefruit juice
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/3 cup cake flour *
3½ teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup 2% milk (I used skim–it’s all I had)
For the glaze:
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1¼ cups powdered sugar
½ teaspoon vanilla
2 to 3 tablespoons grapefruit juice
Heat oven to 375 degrees F. Grease 2 regular-size muffin tins with baking spray or line 14 muffin cups with paper baking cups.
In a large bowl rub sugar and grapefruit zest together with fingers until well-combined and fragrant. Add oil, poppyseeds, grapefruit juice, vanilla and egg. Whisk until combined.
In a separate large bowl, whisk together flours, baking powder and salt.
(*If you don’t have these exact types of flour, use about 2 cups and eyeball the consistency of your batter in the next step. You know it’s the right amount because batter should not “pour” but drop into muffin cups with a wet plop.)
To grapefruit-poppyseed mixture, alternately stir in flour mixture and milk, beginning and ending with flour mixture, until just combined. Pour batter into prepared muffin tins. Bake 17-20 minutes until a toothpick inserted in center of a muffin comes out clean. Transfer muffins to a cooling rack to cool completely.
In a small bowl, combine ingredients for glaze, adding more grapefruit juice or powdered sugar as needed to achieve desired consistency. Dip top of each muffin in glaze, then return to cooling rack or parchment paper so glaze can drip and set. I only glaze the ones we’re planning to eat and store the leftovers in the fridge. Muffins can be reheated and glazed as you go.
Recently a couple of people have asked me for advice on traveling to Iona. I remember feeling a bit lost the first time I went, and couldn’t find a go-to page with information (aside from the Iona website itself, which is good but not exhaustive, especially if you’re traveling from the U.S.).
So here’s a draft guide to traveling to Iona, an expanded version of an email I sent to one of these friends. I know many of you have been there and have even more experience than I do, so please pipe up with items to add, and we’ll make this guide better and better! (Be sure to check out the stuff in bold italic.)
What is Iona?
Iona is an island in the inner Hebrides of Scotland, and is said to be Christianity’s first outpost in Scotland back in the sixth century or so. The Iona Community is an inclusive Christian community that hosts pilgrims on the island throughout the year.
The Iona Community hosts folks in one of two facilities: the Abbey, mainly for adults, and Macleod (pronounced mack-CLOUD) Centre, mainly for families. There’s also Camas, but that’s off-island and for young people—not the focus of this post.
The Iona Community doesn’t bill itself as a conference center or a retreat center, though it has elements of both. It is an experience of living in community. If you stay in Iona Community accommodations, you won’t have a private room (though if you travel with someone you can room with them, and families are kept together in Macleod’s large rooms). Also, bathrooms are down the hall, with sinks in the bedrooms. The accommodations are perfectly serviceable and comfortable but not fancy.
As part of the community, you’ll be divided into work groups and given tasks to do each day. These are minor, like setting tables for meals, sweeping, chopping vegetables, or cleaning bathrooms. Meals are family style and the different task teams serve those. Tasks take 20 minutes each day, tops, and are nice for building community and doing your part.
What is a week at Iona like?
The Iona Community’s week-long program begins with an arrival Saturday afternoon and ends with a Friday morning departure. Some weeks are programmed, with a speaker who leads things in the morning, with afternoons free. Check Iona Community’s website to see what they have planned each week. I’ve been to a programmed week and an open week and I prefer the latter. That said, the programmed weeks provide plenty of free time, and the open weeks typically have scheduled activities, such as tours of the facilities, hymn sings, and other options. Worship takes place each evening, with different themes each day.
The pilgrimage is the highlight for many people. It’s a multi-hour trek around the island to view the various sacred sites. There’s an off-road version for hardier souls and on-road for people who want a shorter experience. The off-road version is subject to be altered or canceled based on trail conditions, and they are insistent on proper footwear—waterproof shoes, ideally hiking boots with ankle support.
Which pilgrimage should you choose? I highly recommend the off-road version, provided that:
–you’re in good enough shape
–for a 5-hour hike with frequent stops (including almost an hour for lunch)
–on uneven (but not mountainous) terrain.
The pilgrimage is usually on Tuesdays.
There’s also an evening of folk dancing, called a Ceilidh (pronounced KAY-lee), in the town hall. It’s fun and intergenerational. Think Celtic line dancing.
If you stay in the Macleod Centre you also have access to their beautiful and amazingly-stocked craft room. Many happy hours can be spent there.
What about island activities?
Here are a few fun things to do beyond the walls of the Iona Community. (Iona is great for wandering, so get yourself a map of the island from one of the shops.)
Have a cream tea at one of the inns and hotels and/or book a lunch or dinner.
Climb up Dun I (pronounced dun ee), the highest point on the island at a manageable 331 feet.
Visit the beaches and wade in the clear but coooooold water.
Book a boat trip to nearby Staffa to see Fingal’s cave and, if the timing is right, PUFFINS! Note: I have never done this because the boat is small and the seas are rough. Bad combo for me.
Browse the shops for souvenirs, folk crafts, wool (aka yarn), or an ice cream sandwich.
Stargazing, meandering walks… anything you’d do in a wild rural setting.
Where do I start with logistics?
As of this post, the Iona Community has not yet posted its schedule for next summer. When they do, it should be here. First step is to decide when you want to go and fill out a booking form (also available at that link). Once you are confirmed, you can investigate flights and other travel arrangements (see below).
What if I want to go on my own, not as part of the Community?
I don’t have a lot of logistical information to offer on that. Go to Isle of Iona’s website and poke around for accommodations and information.
If you go on your own, you’re always welcome to worship with the Community in the Abbey Church–services are daily–and the pilgrimage is also open to all, as well as the Ceilidh. Those events are in the early part of the week, so plan accordingly.
What do I need to know about traveling there and back?
If you can manage it, I’d get to the UK a few days before you head to Iona. This allows you to get over your jetlag. And IF heaven forbid you lose your bags, which happened to people in our group the first time, it gives you time to be reunited with your luggage before getting to the island.
Americans: Our family flew into Dublin a few days early and saw the sights there, then flew to Glasgow. Dublin is a great airport because when you return to the U.S., you do all the customs and immigration at the Dublin airport before you leave. So when you get to your home airport you just collect your bags and head home. Highly recommended.
Whatever you decide to do, you need to be in Glasgow by Friday night so you can start the journey to Iona first thing Saturday morning.
There is information on the Iona website about travel from Glasgow and back. It involves a 3 hour train ride, a 45 minute ferry ride, an hourlong bus ride, and a five minute ferry. This sounds very complicated but it’s quite easy, especially in the summer. If you leave Queen St. Station in Glasgow on the 8 a.m. train you pretty much can’t go wrong. They’re set up for pilgrims to come to Iona. Just follow the crowds.
Breaking down the steps, you need tickets for:
The train from Glasgow to Oban. Buy ahead of time so you’re not rushed that morning. Using the Rail and Sail site to get both train and Oban ferry tickets.
The ferry from Oban to Craignure on the island of Mull. Buy these the day of at the terminal on the dock, or see previous note.
The bus ride across Mull. Buy them the day of. Seriously. They’re lined up right next to the dock. I can’t remember if they accept credit cards or cash only, but it’s £11 round trip, so bring enough cash just in case.
The ferry ride from Fionnphort (pronounced FIN-eh-for, best I can tell) to Iona. Same disclaimer about cash/credit, and I can’t find the price, but it’s less than the bus ride.
How about going with children?
Traveling to Iona with one’s family is obviously a huge expense, but for us it was worth the saving up and the effort. Sadly, some communities welcome children more in theory than in practice, but Iona really takes hospitality seriously, including for little ones. The Macleod Centre is a comfortable, accommodating place for children. (Remember, they’ve got that amazing craft room.)
I was curious to see how our plugged-in, chicken-nugget-eating American kids would do in a remote location with no Internet and unfamiliar food. (Iona serves mainly vegetarian options, and they’re good about accommodating allergies and sensitivities.) I’m sure our kids ate more than their share of bread that week, but they were none the worse for wear. And they really “got” the place, and enjoyed getting to know people from other countries. You know your own children and your budget, but I encourage you to give it a try if you can.
What about packing?
Pack light and plan to handwash items in your sink. There is a drying room in the Abbey and Macleod, and while it’s better than nothing, it mainly succeeded at giving our supposedly clean clothes a slight mildewy smell.
Layers and good footwear, preferably boots.
You do not need any dressy clothing while there. Worship is casual.
There are some boots and waterproofs that can be borrowed, but I’d bring your own.
Make sure you’ve got one of these outlet adapters if you bring electronics.
If you get carsick easily, bring Dramamine for the bus ride across Mull. It’s a single lane road so there’s a lot of pulling over to let other traffic pass.
Friends: what else should be added here?
There is no Internet access in the Iona Community’s centers. You can access WiFi at one of the nearby hotels for a small fee.
You can eat at the cafe on the ferry from Oban to Mull, but do yourself a favor and stop at the seafood shack for some prawn sandwiches instead. Get ‘em to go and bring ‘em on board. Nothing fancy, but fresh as can be.
John Green is like Colbert to me: someone who’s extremely good at what he does and who brings a joie de vivre to his vocation. I can’t help but root for him.
The church is awash with concern these days about the so-called “nones”: people who are not affiliated with any religion, who may (or may not) consider themselves spiritual but not religious… many of whom are in the millenial generation—aka many of John Green’s fans.
How can we “get” more young people? churchy people ask. Is there a way we can “appeal” to them? The format of the questions reveals their purpose—to find more members so that our churches won’t decline and die.
Guess what? Young people don’t care to be our institutional life insurance.
(Neither do 42 year old mothers of three, actually.)
That said, being interested in young people isn’t necessarily opportunistic. Jesus calls us to love our neighbor, and young people are our neighbors. (So are old people, married people, single people, LGBT people, poor people, Muslim people…)
Jesus also calls us to serve, and that’s something that motivates millenials a great deal. (As the saying goes, they love Jesus; they don’t love the church.)
So. In the spirit of connection rather than conversion, friendship rather than membership, partnership rather than fixing, here are some things we can learn from John Green and his tremendous appeal.
He isn’t trying to “reach” young people. Green reportedly hates being called the “teen whisperer,” which is to his credit. His crazy popular vlogbrother videos were not started as some calculated attempt to build his fan base. (Well, not primarily with that purpose, though you can’t argue with success.) Rather, he and his brother Hank started them in order to play with the online video format, which was pretty new back in 2006. They created something winsome and irresistible and the fans thronged to it.
Do we in the church see millenials as a means to an end? What are we doing that is winsome and irresistible?
He takes young people seriously and learns from them.The Fault in Our Stars is filled with wickedly good dialogue, pitch-perfect one-liners and deep wisdom. Some have criticized him for this because “Teenagers don’t really talk like that.” I read somewhere that Green doesn’t try to duplicate the speech patterns of teens. He tries to write the way teens sound to themselves and one another—clever, weird, and wise, assured sometimes and sharply insecure at others. It’s like teen-speak, boiled down to its essence. You have to love and admire and understand young people to pull that off.
Also, the protagonist in The Fault in Our Stars was inspired by an actual teenager with thyroid cancer, Esther Grace Earl, whose experience helped shape the book. Four or five times a month, Green talks on the phone with kids who have cancer, sometimes through Make a Wish, sometimes not. He is also fluent in social media and engages folks on Twitter and Tumblr. And once every few months, he Skypes with teens who are struggling with serious illness.
Is your church present where young people are present, whether online or in person? Are you cultivating actual relationships with them, not so you can bestow your wisdom, but so we can all grow together?
He’s created a tribe. There are traditions and catch phrases and a shared history—not all of which were created by him. (This is important.)
Last year I checked out a John Green book from my local library and when I got it home, out fell a note that had been tucked into its pages: “Hey, nerdfighter! Don’t forget to be awesome!”
DFTBA is very big with this tribe.
And there’s a focus on giving to others. Esther Day is a holiday that Esther Earl asked people to observe on her birthday. According to the New Yorker, “Her idea was that it could become a celebration of non-romantic love—a day when you’d say ‘I love you’ to people who don’t often hear it from you.” And check out the Project for Awesome that has raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for worthy causes.
How does Christianity help people (of all ages) become a part of something larger than themselves? (Hint: as the Project for Awesome demonstrates, they don’t need us in order to feel this. Still, what is our distinctive gift in the midst of the broader culture?) And are people encouraged to bring their own energy and ideas to the table, or are we the keepers of our traditions and norms?
He’s a learner. Check out his Crash Course videos. In these, he (and Hank) are teachers, but he comes at his topics with the posture of a student. And my kids love his Mental Floss videos in which he tests out various lifehacks:
Do we have all the answers, or are we willing to learn?
He employs humor with substance. From the New Yorker profile: “In a post advising boys on how to charm a girl, John jokingly said, ‘Become a puppy. A kitten would also be acceptable or, possibly, a sneezy panda’—an allusion to a popular clip on YouTube. But he also said, ‘If you can, see girls as, like, people, instead of pathways to kissing and/or salvation.'”
As communities of faith, do we offer meaning and substance… while taking ourselves lightly?
He loves the grand gesture. Again, the New Yorker: “Many authors do pre-publication publicity, but Green did extra credit: he signed the entire first printing—a hundred and fifty thousand copies—which took ten weeks and necessitated physical therapy for his shoulder.”
Which leads to my final question for the church: When’s the last time you undertook an extravagant gesture for the sake of this world God loves?
I haven’t seen The Tonight Showin years, and my main late-night indulgences are Colbert and Stewart. So I haven’t watched much Jimmy Fallon. Except for “Barack Obama Slow-Jams the News,” which still cracks me up two years later. (The Prezi of the United Stezi!)
But I did catch Jimmy’s inaugural monologue on The Tonight Show this week, which led me to seek out several other clips. Here’s the monologue:
Jimmy Fallon is succeeding a giant of late-night television, and he’s entering a crowded field. At 39 years old, he’s taking a leap onto a larger stage and needs to prove himself in some ways. As I watched, I was struck by the smart stuff that was going on under the surface, whether calculated or not, and I started to relate Jimmy’s debut to other situations leaders find themselves in. (What can I say? It’s whatIdo.)
Leaders sometimes find themselves following beloved leaders, some of whom are older, more experienced, and firmly entrenched in the culture. Or we may find ourselves having to step into a new role thanks to a promotion or other circumstance. How can these transitions succeed?
Here are just a few things that came to mind as I watched Jimmy take the helm. Might some of these relate to you as a leader, or in other roles you play? Some of these would apply not just to leadership, but any new creative endeavor:
1. Locate yourself in history. Fallon made explicit mention of every Tonight Show host (and turned it into a joke by listing “Johnny Carson, Jay Leno, Conan O’Brien, Jay Leno.”). This was a reverent nod to the folks who’d occupied the chair before him, but also a clear statement: my name belongs on that list now.
2. Make the role your own, but don’t go overboard. The set and format were very similar to the previous incarnation of the show, but with several small tweaks, and a few big ones. For example, Jimmy Fallon brought the show back to New York after many decades in L.A. (Carson started out there but moved the show to California ten years into his tenure.) You’ve got to find the right balance between continuity and novelty.
3. Mix self-deprecation with really knowing your stuff. As a young woman pastor wanting to be taken seriously, this was always my approach. It would do me no good to demand respect and get strident when I didn’t get it. So my approach was to be completely disarming, even self-deprecating, while still projecting extreme competence. The former takes the wind out of the sails of your detractors; the latter ensures they don’t write you off. Fallon achieved this balance with his characteristic aw-shucks modesty, coupled with running the show very well and taking his role seriously.
4. Make your family visible. This doesn’t apply to every situation, but it was sweet the way Fallon mentioned his wife and daughter and cut to his parents in the audience. Many leaders I meet (especially younger ones) don’t want a brick wall of separation between work and family. We want to be integrated. Having your family visible humanizes you. Also, knowing more about you makes people want to root for you.
5. Call in every favor you can. The sheer number of guests and cameos on the first show was dizzying! Check this out:
This isn’t just great TV, it’s great strategy. Don’t go it alone. Calling in favors builds excitement and makes you feel more comfortable too.
6. Spend it all right away. This relates a bit to the previous point. Don’t keep good ideas in reserve. Use them immediately, trusting that other ideas will come to take their place. I’m sure there will be other surprises for the rest of this week, and beyond. But taking the previous clip as an example, isn’t there something so abundant about the way that parade of celebrities came on stage, one after another? Too fun.
Speaking of which:
7. Don’t forget to enjoy the moment. Fallon sure looked like he was having a blast, didn’t he? I watched the episode mainly for curiosity, but now I want to tune in just to see what he’ll do next. (It’s one reason why I prefer Colbert to Stewart these days. Nobody looks more tickled to be doing his job than Stephen Colbert.)
8. Keep your goals modest. As leaders, we sometimes have an overinflated sense of what we can accomplish. We have to remember that we’re stepping into a system that existed before us and, we hope, will outlast us. Jimmy Fallon made his goals clear: to “take care of this show for a while” and to make his viewers laugh, to send them off to bed with a smile on their faces.
9. Be gracious with your “competition.” I put this in quotes because not every leadership role involves competition. But you will notice that Stephen Colbert made an appearance in the clip above. Fallon and Colbert are slotted opposite one another. But having them together is a statement that there is room for both of them.
10. When in doubt, bring on U2. Enough said:
Did you watch The Tonight Show? What did you think of Jimmy’s debut?
Happy Birthday to my firstborn, my little she-who-is, my Caroline, maker of parents and (mostly) happy tween.
We’re supposed to get snow today, so I was going to post a poem I wrote about her several years ago, called “snowflakes,” but I see I did that two years ago.
So here’s another poem that came to mind last weekend during Caroline’s slumber party when the girls were playing sardines. I’ve never liked games involving hiding. But I do play with my kids sometimes. This one was written when she was about 3 1/2:
it’s how you play the game
a confused pause, a quick conference
with a deeper voice— thirty,
and i crouch behind the brown chair,
head bowed but neck turned, eyes wide on the place
where she will appear.
my whole life, i have hated this part, the
breathless silence after the counting, the
frantic beating in the brain, the stalking,
swishing tip-toe of socks, the pouncing,
but the way we play
there is no breakneck dash for home.
whenever she finds me, curled up and twisted,
i am calm, my heart locked in its place,
beating a glad, redemptive rhythm.
Image: I’ve been putting little heart messages on the kids’ doors this week. These are replies Caroline has been posting for me. <3