Johnny Old Saint Nicholas

Maysen played this piano song as a duet with his father.

Three favorites from the red velvet man's visit.


A line of Lego magnets. My mother bought some a few years ago (at Legoland) and I admired them. Unfortunately they were not sold when I visited Legoland this year. However, Santa ordered them from Lego and put them in my stocking. They are quite visually perfect. I'm not sure I'll take them out of the box.


The three smalls. Placed in a frame I purchased last week for occasions such as this.


A French cherry red roasting pot. I have long dreamed of a suitable soup or piece of meat to inaugurate the use. I have not come up with anything yet but share the image as it is fine as a stand alone. I also enjoy Le Creuset in Dune. I would make a meat soup in it.

What were your favorites? And, do you embrace surprise?

In a Nutshell: Thanksgiving with the Indians

Flights: amazingly well spent and pleasing. I used to not sleep in planes; now I can for a couple hours.

Movies and TV viewed en route: Quand J’étais Chanteur (The Singer) featuring Gérard Depardieu as an aged lounge singer opposite his young love interest. I watched bits of this repeatedly and finally admitted he is an endearing character.
The Page Turner (also French), a mean-spirited film of a young pianist who is disillusioned during a recital/judging and gives up the piano. She later comes into the life of a family (the pianist mother being the one who dissed her at the judging) as a nanny and ruins their lives through treachery. She turns composition pages for this woman at a piano performance, hence the title.
The Break-up with Jennifer A. and Vince V. I tired of their constant bickering but approved the performances of the art shop receptionist and Jennifer A’s “brother.”
Fifteen minutes of Pirates II. Did not enjoy this and thought I would have nightmares of the tentacles. Yick.
One whole episode of MacGyver and a bit of The Love Boat (Doc was jumping up and down on a mini tramp by the pool. All the men had on tiny shorts. Long shorts are a pleasing change).

Illegality: snapping two pictures inside the Taj Mahal. My guide hissed to quickly take a picture of the inlaid stones while he shone a flashlight on them. I obeyed but these images will not implicate me being that I needed a flash (had my bulky camera with me).

What a huge proponent of light packing wishes she had packed: a nail brush (I simply walked outside and my nails became filthy) and a heel pumice (my poor feet were clad in sandals most of the trip (and most of my life); would that I could have filed them).

What I wish I hadn’t brought: multiple long pants and long sleeved shirts. The weather for the most part was hot and humid, especially in the south (Hawaii like climate). Knee-length skirts would have been perfect. (I had brought one and bought one there. I also wore long shorts some of the time.)

Bookshelf (in order of attack): Climbing the Mango Trees by Madhur Jaffrey (recent Knopf bio with recipes of the cookbook writer and actress); The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai (winner of 2006 Man Booker Prize); half of V.S. Naipaul’s India: A Wounded Civilization; half of A Princess Remembers: The Memoirs of the Maharani of Jaipur (purchased in Mumbai on a recommendation after I had visited the Rambaugh Palace, now a hotel, in Jaipur).

Animal Fair: elephants, camels, goats, cows, bulls, monkeys, cats, dogs, birds, two dead rats, one or more live rats.

Casualty: one black hair clip (see also claw) that is integral to my being. It was mercilessly crushed on the flight from Delhi to Cochi.

Loss: black yoga pants used for running around. I believe they must have been left in Jaipur, hung out to dry (literally).

Flavorings acquired: two packets of black peppercorns and 10 vanilla beans (gift of Nimmy Paul, cooking instructor). Two packets of whole cardamom and one packet each of nutmegs and fenugreek.

Spices I wish I had bought (what can I say . . . I was overwhelmed): chili powder, curry powder, and black mustard seeds.

Other purchases: textiles (Gandhi proclaimed the answer to India’s ills is the spinning wheel) and two pieces of cookware, one aluminum pot and one steel uruli, a flat bowl for stovetop (I will try to post an image) for a combined weight of about 4 kilos.

Brought home: a taste for marble.

Birds of a Feather

This morning I breakfasted with four peacocks. They flew into the walled compound probably looking for water. They approached the pool but flew off without drinking. I was eating an omelet, toast, papaya, and Cadbury drinking chocolate. It is quite a Western breakfast but it was nourishing and will prepare me for the day. I am staying at Jasvilas in Jaipur. It is an oasis. As Rachel prepared me, this is a third world country. The people are very welcoming, non-threatening, and good. I point out this place is an oasis because the streets are a different thing, but not dangerous. I haven't minded the driving (from my back seat in the taxi). People seem to know what they are doing and no accidents yet. Horns a plenty. I spent the first four days in Mumbai (Bombay) which is the second largest city (I believe population) in the world, after Mexico City. It never appeared super overrun so it paints a broad swath and the worst slums are not where I was. Brad, Angelina, and I are visiting India.

At home, preparations continue for Thanksgiving, arguably a perfect holiday. Do let me know your plans and any menu successes. I plan to make Thanksgiving at Christmas. Cami presented me with a portable Thanksgiving feast: candied pecans, dried cranberries, pringles (potatoes), a pumpkin seed bar, an apple pie Larabar, and turkey jerky. I will eat royally. Perhaps you wish your feast was as pre-pared. I hope someone is baking an Indian pudding. This is what I will try in the coming days. Rachel B. made the best baked gingerbread ever a week ago. I will also make this. I don't see why we need pie with these deadlies. Historically wholesome. I wish you all well and heap big blessings.

The Night before Daylight Standard Time

I baked a pie. Not being a pie person, this is doubly curious. It is the end of October and we are in full fall. I had clipped a recipe a year ago from Bon Appétit for an “easy looking” pie. I thought to make it on a whim that happened to hit today. The Santa Ana’s are blowing moderate air temps our way.

My mother handed me down her old digital camera. Before you roll your eyes, know I have held off on the digitals for reason of quality. Nothing compares digitally with the color I get from film in the Canon AE-1 that was my grandfather’s, my brother’s, and now mine. (I bought it from Brian at some point for $25). My only complaint is lifestyle—the weight (heavy) and size (big). Today I put two and two together and learned how to download digital images to my computer. I will share my first images (due to technical difficulties, they will not post today). The compact digital does not replace my real camera, but will decorate the blog.

For those of you who wonder who Eva is, think “North by Northwest.” Recently viewed by Brian and Donn and Nancy. Amy, I encourage you to try Indian Pudding for your Thanksgiving feast. I will investigate that as well.

Eva Marie Saint’s Apple Pie
6 to 8 servings

The shortbread-like dough (no rolling required!) serves as both the crust and the crumbly topping for this homey pie.

1 1/2 lbs Pippin or Granny Smith apples (about 4 small), peeled, quartered, seeded, very thinly sliced
1 C cold water
3 T fresh lemon juice (I used an old lime)
1 C all purpose flour
1/2 C (1 stick) diced unsalted butter, room temperature
1 C sugar
2 t ground cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Butter 9-inch-diameter glass pie dish. Place apples in large bowl. Add 1 cup cold water and lemon juice; let stand 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Meanwhile, place flour and butter in another large bowl. Using back of fork, mash together until moist clumps form. Add sugar and continue working with fork to incorporate (mixture will still be lumpy). Transfer 1 1/2 cups dough to prepared dish. Press evenly over bottom and halfway up sides of dish.
Drain apples well. Arrange in even layer on top of dough. Sprinkle with ground cinnamon. Sprinkle remaining dough bits over apples.
Bake pie until browned, juices bubble thickly, and apples are tender, about 1 hour. Transfer to rack; cool 30 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Good Living: A Tribute to Gourmet

I subscribe to a variety of magazines. I think this trait was inherited from my mother who subscribed to a good number; my father received several including Arizona Highways and Field and Stream.

My friend, Karen F, took Gourmet for a year in 1992(ish), has all the issues, and still cooks from them. They sit in a pile in her kitchen. In her words, “these are my cookbooks.” Having 10–12 years worth of issues, I happily encourage and admire her focus. I have yet to find a more appropriate food magazine for the home cook of special occasions. I mention several here.

Saveur is an excellent magazine in concept: authentic cuisine. Authentic, be it Irish colcannon or goat curry from Trinidad. Previous issues have included an American south church potluck, a die-hard university football tailgate party, and English Devon cream. The photography is, well, authentic. The ladies at the picnic wore church dresses with tennies, and stood to eat under the shade of a tree. Realism of course, and as exceptional as many real things are. I still can envision trays of Danish smørrebrød shown earlier this year. The breadth of knowledge between it’s covers is impressive and enormous. The writing is cogent. A piece on peanuts stands out. I recommend Saveur without reservation. It is a valuable piece.

Bon Appétit (BA) is a fine magazine and I have used recipes that have become trusted and true. I endorse these. I take BA for a year, then give it a break for a few, then try it again. I feel no allegiance to it but respect it’s fine recipe gathering ability. For whatever reason, the images and articles do not stay with me.

Everyday Food (via Martha Stewart) is a nice little size and package. Colorful and simple in word and deed. I have made several dishes and find it quick and easy. I have not made anything from this one in about 8 months. I don’t know why.

Martha Stewart (MS) continues to whet my interest in cooking. In August, I presented polenta quick bread with lemon and thyme for Carla A’s birthday. I can’t tell you the accolades heaped on this earthy loaf. I wrapped it in parchment and twine, writing its name on a sticker (which doesn’t stick to parchment and twine). A delicious tea loaf. I embrace MS food.

Gourmet continues to capture my heart. It is an acquaintance that has developed into an old friend; strangely, a contemporary. I find several recipes each issue I must try. I have just closed the book on a slightly rumpled August, at least sufficiently to file it with my other issues (though I still intend to make the mesclun salad with Banon cheese in autumn). Today I finished the raspberry crème fraîche tart with lavender honey (I used orange blossom, ending a painful search). I recommend it fully when fresh raspberries are available; I visited the DM farmer’s market yesterday. Earlier this week found me eating gingered carrot soup that has more flavors going on that one can imagine. A simple cool soup (is a cool soup always elegant?). My first effort in this issue was Richard Olney’s flat zucchini omelet. I would try anything from Richard Olney; he found this “completely attractive.”

Photography is stylistically diverse and some features are truly breathtaking. Enough so I want to tear them out and tape them to the wall. I recall a significant article on R.J. Apple’s birthday dinner in Paris at Chez L’Ami Frère. The photography was exceptional. Storytelling. August succeeds in “Into the Blue” with dusky blue tones. It is a wonder.

Good writing is the calling card of the magazine. The likes of Laurie Colwin, MFK Fisher, Samuel Chamberlain, Craig Claiborne, and others have contributed to the success.

For my money, give me Gourmet: the magazine of good living. September’s cover is too fine to describe. It must be experienced. I smell baking apples, woodsy mushrooms, and fresh spinach.

Bon Appétit and Gourmet recipes are online .

Two-Part Invention

Summer is not the time for heating an oven and stirring at the stove. Cold foods, quick preparation, seasonal bounty abound. So why am I eating pasta?

I spend a large part of the year in efficiency mode subsisting on eggs and broccoli (thanks, Cami), quesadillas (I’ll eat anything in a tortilla), seasonal salad. Both going to the market and cooking is one step too many. I can do one or the other. Something has seized me this summer. I believe it is the power of suggestion. I cannot turn around but I find a recipe that wills me to make a list and run to the store. Today I went expressly for a sweet onion (yes, one sweet onion) to make once more the mint, feta, and watermelon salad. While compiling the salad, I peeled, chopped, and cooked together summer fruits to send peach-raspberry-lavender jam home with my guests who agreed to consume the watermelon salad (it doesn’t keep). By my calculation, the jam will be sufficiently chilled to eat in half an hour. Maria donated her edible dried lavender.

One weekend in recent history found me cooking numerous onions for rigatoni with five lilies and ricotta salata. I searched three stores for ricotta salata that I finally spied at Whole Foods. The five lilies cooked down to a colorful mélange of roasted sweetness, wintry and warm.

The next weekend, bent on concocting pappardelle with zucchini blossom sauce, I bought zucchini squash blossoms (14 blossoms for $1 . . . was there something wrong with the scale?) at the DM Farmer’s Market. The pappardelle was no picnic either. I went the same three places for that, refusing to pay over $6 for 8 ounces of dried pasta. I broke down after futile attempts and called it a wash. On a tip-off, I found it at Trader Joe’s for under $2. Incredible, no?

This is what I’ve been eating this summer. How ‘bout you?

Restaurant Review—Waters Fine Catering

***

Any cook will tell you the key to culinary success is quality of ingredients. The proprietors of Waters carefully heed this practice. Known as peerless caterers, there are two Waters outposts to vend their goods. One is the Museum of Art (Waters Café @ SDMA) and the other is on Morena Boulevard, Waters Fine Foods To Go.

I have patronized Waters Fine Foods To Go no fewer than seven times. (If you’ve read Ruth Reichl’s books, you know as NY Times restaurant critic she visited each establishment several times at least before the review). Take last night for instance. I started a printmaking class at 6 p.m. in Point Loma. From UCSD, I drove to Costco where I filled my tank and bought blueberries, contact lens solution, and raw almonds. My course had been premeditated for days. I continued south on Morena and closed in on Waters before they turned the key for the night. I hopped from curb to door, ordered a roast beef sandwich from the new girl (more often than not, the front counter help is new), vacillating between this and my usual, chicken salad. While waiting, I ogled the showcase of prepared foods. The smooth icing of carrot cake called but I didn’t answer. I admired the ancini de pepe salad and queried. A small carton was readied for me. The sandwich arrived from the back kitchen and I paid, reluctantly edging out of the shop and on my course. I ate half the sandwich en route to my class and half the salad. Half the sandwich fit in my right hand. I am continually impressed with the breads used at Waters. Soft, chewy, and a taste of water. Supreme. Unlike some places, I never worry about the meat here. It is all edible. One can eat in luxury. Having arrived, I left the remainder of my purchase on the passenger seat, waiting my return.

Under "Hummus" on page 265 of The Dean & DeLuca Cookbook, we read "In this dish, the best texture of all is obtained by passing the cooked chickpeas through a food mill; other devices—like a food processor—are acceptable, but inferior." Life is filled with the acceptable, but inferior, and most of the time we eat it. A visit to Waters will make you think again, a rebirth of sorts. And, next time you are even close, you will say, “Oh good! I can go to Waters.”

Menu Items in Detail:

Natural Meyer Piedmontese Roast Beef, Horseradish, Aïoli, Lettuce, Vine Ripened Tomatoes, Crisp Onions on Baguette
Grilled Petaluma Natural Chicken Salad, Tarragon, Lettuce, Artichoke on Baguette
Petite Pasta, Laura Chenel's Goat Cheese, Olives, Basil, Oven-dried Tomatoes

1105 / 1115 West Morena Boulevard
San Diego, CA 92110
Tel: (619) 276.8803

Directions:
Coming from I-5, take the Sea World Drive/Tecolote Road exit, go east to Morena Blvd. and turn right. At the 1st light—Buenos Street, go right. Make your first left into an alleyway; it will be behind "Subway Sandwiches"; follow the alley around in a U-shape. You will see our yellow building on the right.

What the Stars Mean:
(None) Poor to satisfactory
* Good
** Very good
*** Excellent
**** Extraordinary

Father-Daughter Ties

I just got off the phone with my dad. He was treated to dinner at Robin's—German potato salad and hamburgers. My package arrived in time and he opened it today (Sadie was very interested in the contents . . . edible). My mother spoke in church there. Life is good. It is a happy thing to have a father living, committed, and interested. One of the few things I know is that my father loves me. We share a love of useful things, efficiency, water skiing and jogging, a job done well, chocolate malts, short phone calls, honesty. He would shake his head and admit, "Well, I don't know what kind of a father I've been to you kids." Then he would perk up, "But I've always been honest." It is enough to bring things round right. Honesty produces a clear mind, a good heart. In honesty, I don't know anyone who would have been a better father for us. Recently, I was taught the mother you have is the best mother for you. Surely, the same applies to the other half. Both of them visibly liked and enjoyed us. They wanted us around and had fun with us. We all play gin rummy and ping pong. Not having children yet, it is a puzzling thing to plan to enjoy being with little ones all the time. And, high praise to become used to someone. I always liked being with my family when we were under one roof. The feeling was reciprocal.

I was well grown when I clued into the oft-offered Father's Day tie. I didn't know it was a joke, a non-personal gift. I thought it was a good idea; who doesn't want their father to look nice? The past few years have been great tie-shopping years; attractive ties for my dad, and my brother-in-law. I didn't know this was a skill, and have been pleased with the response. On occasion, my brother-in-law has even borrowed ties from my dad, ties I had chosen for him. Anyone can tell you I'm not into fashion (a glance will suffice). The tie-buying gene is all the more surprising.

My dad is older now. In his eighty-fourth year and showing it. He was young for a long time. We kept him that way I'm sure. :) It is a real honor to be able to care for him now. I'm not there most of the time but prayer is, and we see the benefits. He asks when he's going to see me again, and not much else. I'm so glad he is still around. We have ties.

What's in a Name?

On Sunday after church, we rushed home to pop corn and slice apples. A choice of apple juice or milk completed the snack. We dug into the large bowl of buttered, salted popcorn with colored smaller bowls, passed the plate of green quartered apples, and sipped from our cups. I'm sure the idea was born when we were children. Now, popcorn and apples is a tradition. Along with her creation of cheese fondue, this is my mother's best meal. And then later, we ate Sunday dinner which could have been almost anything including a full breakfast or a slow-cooked meat. My father insisted on having carrot sticks present at every meal.

The method of popping corn evolved from jiffy pop pans with their expanding foil bonnets to hot air poppers to the immediate microwave. But as always, quality reigns and we've reverted to the more natural air popper. It wasn't till my mission that I learned to jiggle a covered pot over the stove with a small amount of oil and some corn kernels. I was a vigorous jiggler to ensure it wouldn't burn. Then, we tossed it all with salt or sugar. I thought it was quite inventive. Paring down the tools to increase the food's quality.

I try to operate with few tools because that is creativity. My art teacher says, "Don't think scarcity. Think abundance."

So, on Sunday, I find myself craving salted popcorn and fresh sweet apples with a mugful of milk. What are your Sunday traditions or favorite meals?