Italic: A Setting Apart

This week in my writing class, the professor decried the use of most italic in book form. I silently agreed and probably head bobbed. I have long had issue with most italic, wherever it is found. Exception would be scripture. After testdriving a Honda CR-V, I decided not to purchase in large part because the dashboard numbers were in italic.

I use italic for book titles, as is proper per style guides. And, occasionally, I use italic for emphasis. But, rarely and in dialogue. I think bold should be reserved for headings and subheads. I never underline.

On Friday evening, I pulled out the box and plastic zippered bag that are Christmas. It took about 7 seconds to decorate. After putting up my mother's two trees, this is not a bad thing. I have a How The Grinch Stole Christmas! Coloring Book. Of course, I would never take a crayon to it. It is the whole she-bang for $2.75. A great book. I am in happy agreement with the use of italic in The Grinch. The Whos and Who-ville. His use of capitalization is to be praised.

Then he got an idea!
An awful idea!
THE GRINCH
GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!

In class on Wednesday, I sent in my third piece to be reviewed for this week. It contains a flashback in italic. It is almost 3/4 of a page. I was torn about this section, keeping it in italic or not. There are other flashbacks in the piece, none of which are as lengthy or in italic. The first section was an international flashback. It made sense at the time to use that style. The other flashbacks are U.S. based. I never really decided what to do and handed in as is, partially to obtain feedback on this stylistic matter. I know I will get an earful. The poor professor.

How Do You Sparkle?

We think it was one of our best dinners.

Roasted Turkey
Fresh Orange-Cranberry Sauce with Walnuts
Herb and Onion Stuffing
Mashed Potatoes and Gravy
Lima Beans in Cream
Baby Peas
Sweet Potatoes with Marshmallows
Dixie Salad
Corn Pudding
Read All About It Rolls
Favorite Old-Fashioned Gingerbread
Dutch Apple Pie
Punkin Pie
Toll House Pie
Vanilla Ice Cream
Whipped Cream

Because we were four, I set the table with Grandma L's pheasant plates of which we have five. And the single teacup you see in the picture above. Dixie Salad was a black horse in my book. Mother seeded a whole pomegranate and added apple pieces, raisins, and Cool Whip (the original recipe asks for sweetened whipped cream). I may add here it was delicious. The lima beans were another runaway winner, but not so surprisingly. I made two of Rachel B's recipes: gingerbread and orange cranberries. Each luscious and deep. Mother gave up on the gravy before she began. The dreamboat stuffing was so easy and yum yum. Fobsi dropped off her homemade rolls and the Toll House Pie before joining her in-laws. B declared his plate the most attractive at the table and suggested a picture.

We planned to open the bubbly—Kristian Regále Sparkling Apple Beverage—and never did. Father read aloud the beguiling label at the end of the feast: It's Time to Sparkle. He then turned to us and asked, puzzled: How do you sparkle?

Visible Ink

Because I am feeling petulant, I will demonstrate fastidious behavior. This is my favorite pen.

It is called Pilot VBall Liquid Ink Roller. Clearly, I prefer red. It is shapely. The barrel is a tube of blood-like liquid. It is beyond lovely. I am also happy because I believed this model to be terminated and it's not. A model like Pilot Precise V5/7 Rolling Ball had come on the scene.

It is carried by major stores. I came across the VBall this week at Hillcrest Stationers. Stores like Office Depot or Staples discontinued stocking it, thus my assumption it is not available. You can't believe everything you read. I can now buy as many as I want online plus shipping. What a future.

New Year's Day

A Poem by Billy Collins

Everyone has two birthdays
according to the English essayist Charles Lamb,
the day you were born and New Year's Day—

a droll observation to mull over
as I wait for the tea water to boil in a kitchen
that is being transformed by the morning light
into one of those brilliant rooms of Matisse.

"No one ever regarded the First of January
with indifference," writes Lamb,
for unlike Groundhog Day or the feast of the
Annunciation,

this one marks nothing but the passage of time,
I realized, as I lowered a tin diving bell
of tea leaves into a little body of roiling water.

I admit to regarding my own birthday
as the joyous anniversary of my existence
probably because I was, and remain
to this day in late December, an only child.

As an only child—
a tea-sipping, toast-nibbling only child
in a colorful room this morning—
I would welcome an extra birthday,
one more opportunity to stop what we are doing
for a moment and reflect on my being here on earth.

And one more might be a small consolation
to us all for having to face a death-day, too,
an X in a square
on some kitchen calendar of the future,

the day when each of us is thrown off the train of time
by a burly, heartless conductor
as it roars through the months and years,

party hats, candles, confetti, and horoscopes
billowing up in the turbulent storm of its wake.

Two Days, Four Recipes

Being single, the majority of my cooking is event driven. Think Thanksgiving. If there are a slew of recipes I must try or die, I will plan a get-together. I am like my mother in that I have no problem serving guests a dish I have never before made. This weekend I put together three-bean salad for the ward hoedown last evening. There was a caller and squaredancing and barbequed beef. They handed out recipes for each and I chose the bean dish. I am a bean lover, not being a huge carnivore. The baking began Friday night with hermits. Just this week, I thought of consulting three cookbooks, all of which I have lent out. This is not normal. So, I checked out The Tenth Muse at the library to recreate the steps for Hermits that follow Schrafft's Butterscotch Cookies (previously tried). Jones teaches they are New England cookies and I've read elsewhere they are perhaps the first American cookie. I have been aching to try them. Jones eats them stale, dunked in coffee like biscotti. I admit to not being able to wait for them to dry but did eat two this morning with tea. I dealt out a few gift bags for other bakers to try. I also served them to Rachel, Jeremy, and Robin R yesterday. Along with these cookies I am making for tonight. The crispy cookies were their favorite. I admit to being partial to the hermits. The hoedown featured a cupcake bake-off. I was happy to enter and not surprised to lose to red velvet belles. Plus, the hoedown was outside in the dark and the delicacy of vanilla beans was eclipsed by the prominent dark/white contrast of chocolate/marshallow cakes. In better light, I'm sure the vanilla bean cupcakes with salted caramel frosting would have been judged kindly. I hold no ill will. I do admit the whole grain pastry flour may not have produced a fine boutique crumb, more like country gentleman's cornbread.

Mrs. Cooney's Hermits
Adapted from The Tenth Muse: My Life in Food by Judith Jones

12 T unsalted butter, at room temperature
2/3 C granulated sugar
3/4 C dark brown sugar
2 eggs, beaten
3 C flour
1/2 t salt
1 t baking powder
1 t cinnamon
1 t ground cloves
1/2 t ground ginger
1/4 C molasses mixed with 2 T warm water
1 C raisins
1 C chopped walnuts
Glaze: 1 beaten egg

Cream the butter with the two sugars, then beat in the eggs. Toss together the flour, salt, baking powder, and spices, and add them to the butter-sugar mixture along with the molasses. When well mixed, fold in the raisins and nuts. Divide the batter in fourths, and plop two mounds each, with space between them, onto two greased baking sheets. Shape each mound, using your floured hands to push and pat the dough down into a strip about 10 by 3 inches. You should have two strips on each baking sheet, placed several inches apart. Paint the tops of each with the egg glaze, and bake in a preheated 350-degree oven for 15 to 20 minutes, depending on how crisp you like yours. While still warm, cut each strip into nine bars.
Note: My hermits were about the chewiness of a pumpkin cookie. My oven is a kiln and would not allow for longer baking without charring the hermits. I did trim the edges to rid of burn. They were good the first night but better with time. If you can, box them in your cupboard for at least a day.

Sweet William

When your roommate calls from the other room to say that Steve called and Billy Collins is speaking in half an hour in La Jolla do you want to go? you say yes and is it at warwicks and she says no d.g. wills you say i know it and you wear your black top, white skirt, and gold glitter shoes with the round chandeliers from the tiara room in your ears the better to hear with and you drive into the sunset down to the shores and onto girard where you pass old haunts and find parking in an alley not far away which is surprising considering the crowd spilling out of the bookstore and into the street so you hoof it around the corner past the maserati shop and settle standing on a bench looking over the worn wood pickets from Pannikin to the bookstore where you can't see but do hear the relaxing and unexpected and warming warblings of sweet william who reads from his last book the trouble with poetry which you love and applaud physically and into the new and some haikus from ballistics and the crowd is loving him and the word so you line up to have him sign the only book you own of his that he hasn't signed and he does and gets your name right this time and you are carried away enchanted again, rising and roaming with the Susquehanna.

Feedback

I am taking a creative writing seminar this semester at San Diego State University. All the students (save yours truly) are enrolled in an MFA in Creative Writing program. Needless to say, the course has been interesting, useful, and full of delicious data. Last week, we reviewed my first short story in class. I need to write a total of three for the semester. My story is nothing to celebrate but it is an accomplishment in that I wrote one. We had to write a brief description of our story:

A young woman, Lia Goff, welcomes friends Rachel and Dustin to her desert hometown. The two are moral support after the death of Lia’s father and some business concerns at The Corral, a street of small artisan shops she manages. Lia also directs the Fall Festival that shows off the stores in a weeklong sale. The friends stay with Lia’s accomplished mother, Georgiana, who co-created The Corral. Georgiana is suffering after the death of her husband. As the two friends help Lia solve the impending problem of sales at Red’s Glass, Georgiana finds personal renewal in a tale of town history and the artistry of residents.

I also cite this piece.

A few years ago, I grew interested in sand. Why is there sand in deserts? Where does it come from? I thought ocean waves made sand on seashores: waves pounded continents’ rock and shattered it to stone, gravel, and finally sand. This, I learned, is only slightly true.
From For the time being by Annie Dillard

We review about 4 stories per week, write reviews, and spend our evening class voicing feedback. It is both hilarious and pathetic. I often wish to laugh out loud and have managed to call some bluff in the most glib among us. A few of the stories have been excellent. Often, students bring part of their novel in progress for review.

I am just now reviewing the written comments from my story and spending a fieldday, or fieldevening as the case is. They have reponded favorably to the more organic scenes and the food writing. Many of them start their review with, "This is a great start . . . " Perhaps they are too programmed for the novel? So far, my favorite comment is from a girl who writes very faintly and very small in pencil. Her comments are thorough and careful. She gets an A for effort. Speaking of one of my characters, she writes in the margin, "She comes off as a little feather headed . . . ." Another reviewer, another female, cites a scene in the story where Nan Red Williams (very pregnant) jumps off a stool in her shop to welcome Lia who responds, "Easy there mom . . . ." The reviewer responds, "At first, I thought she was talking to her mom. Clarify this somehow." Someone suggests I condense Rachel and Dustin into one character. I can't wait to read more.

Fall Reading List

After a trip to a couple bookstores this week, I am armed and anti-social. My current possession (rented and lent) of books to read is as follows. My request list at the library is as follows. I am greedy for books and wonder if I can possibly get through them. What are you reading??

Current Possession
Terre des Hommes by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen
A Beautiful Blue Death by Charles Finch
People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks
Guardian of the Dawn by Richard Zimler

Request List
Made in Italy: Food and Stories by Giorgio Locatelli (have been waiting for about 6 months)
Last-minute Patchwork and Quilted Gifts by Joelle Hoverson
Sixty Poems by Charles Simic
Ms. Hempel Chronicles by Sarah Shun-lien Bynum
The Toss of a Lemon by Padma Viswanathan
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski

Picnic Basket on the Fish Blanket

Take a few good friends and add a picnic on the lawn on a cliff by the sea. This equation is especially wonderful if the feast is merry. And it was. Any reason is fine but this was a particularly great cause for which to purchase what we have always wanted: organic Adriatic fig preserves. The tartines, slightly Greek salad, salt and vinegar potato chips, and bowls of summer fruits. Peripherals included sparkling cranberry juice and French limeade from Trader Joe's and The Great Blondie from The Greyston Bakery Cookbook. Damp crept in with the dusk. We retired home, playing cards and drinking Pellegrino. A night to remember? Yes, a night to repeat.

Warm Weather Soup and the Raw

Depending on your emotional state, you may be planning for fall. I have two feet in summer, one hand in fall, and the other hand grasping for otherworldliness. This is how the white plumeria feels.



The pink plumeria, taller, and budless, remains mum. I gave it more food this morning. You may be interested in an all-season recipe.

Loaves and Fishes take-out foods offers this restorative chicken soup. Located in Montauk, NY, I must drop in on in my armchair journey to Harriet M. Welsch's haunts. If only there were Bunny at the piano and Zeeney climbing from the limo.



From Summer on a Plate by Anna Pump.
Chicken Vegetable Soup

2 T (1 ounce) unsalted butter
2 C chopped onion
1 C chopped carrots
1 1/2 C chopped celery
1 C chopped fennel
2 C peeled and chopped Yukon Gold potatoes, in 1/2-inch pieces
2 1/2 quarts Chicken Stock
3 C cooked chicken meat
1 C shelled peas (1 pound in the pod)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
2 T minced curly parsley

Melt the butter in a large soup pot. Add the onion, carrots, celery, fennel, and potatoes and sauté over medium heat for 5 minutes. Do not let the mixture brown. Add the chicken stock and bring to a boil. Lower heat and let the soup simmer, partly covered, for 20 minutes. Add the chicken and peas. Simmer for 2 more minutes. Season with salt and pepper, sprinkle with parsley, and serve hot.

Yields 6 or more servings.

The root vegetables unstandably testify of their own death, cooking to a dulled softness. Bright peas rescue the soup from deep winter. Spring is all seasons. Offer some to a favorite.

This next choice is an appeal to cookie dough eaters, in which group I don't belong. Except for this recipe. In fact, I don't encourage baking the cookies. They lose their macadamia-ness and hoped for nutty texture. It is a normal cookie. I am still puzzling.

So, here's The Good Cookie from The Greyston Bakery Cookbook. The White House ordered them for its Easter Egg Roll on the South Lawn (is there a lesser roll on the north lawn?) in 1993. I am looking forward to The Great Blondie for the picnic on Friday evening at the park on the ocean cliffs. Other future favorites may include Anise Seed Cake with Orange Icing, Chocolate Banana Nut Cake, Burnt Almond Torte, Macaroon Brownies Bars, and Sticky Toffee Cakelets.

The Good Cookie

1 1/2 C unbleached all-purpose flour
1 C (about 4 ounces) ground Brazil or macadamia nuts
1 t baking powder
1/2 t salt
1/2 C (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
1 C packed brown sugar
1/2 C granulated sugar
1 1/2 t pure vanilla extract
3 eggs
2 C (12 ounces) semisweet chocolate pieces

Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat the oven to 375 F. Lightly grease several baking sheets or line them with parchment paper. In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, ground nuts, baking powder, and salt. In the bowl of an electric mixer set on medium speed, cream the butter, brown sugar, granulated sugar, and vanilla until light and fluffy. Reduce the mixer speed to low. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well and scraping the sides of the bowl after each addition. Gradually beat in the flour mixture. Stir in the chocolate. Refrigerate the dough for 10 minutes. Drop the dough by rounded tablespoonfuls onto the prepared baking sheets. (If you're not baking all of the cookies at once, keep the extra dough chilled.) Bake for 12 minutes, or until the cookies are golden brown. Cool the cookies on the baking sheets on wire racks for at least 5 minutes before transferring the cookies to the racks to cool completely.

Makes about 3 1/2 dozen.

Repertoire

On the umpteenth thumb-through of Cooking for Mr. Latte, I was seized with need to jot down my repertoire. Did I have one? I think I can say there is a list of recipes I consider favorites and have made each at least two times, most of them more often. The repertoire is a work in progress. I would like to pare it and beg more time for this. Besides, who has a repertoire of cookies??

Almond Coconut Granola
Orange Yogurt (Barefoot Contessa)
Banana Bread (The Silver Palate)
Cheddar Rolls (my mum)

Old-Fashioned Italian-American Lasagna with Ricotta and Tomato Sauce (The Dean and DeLuca Cookbook)
Oven-Simmered Beef Brisket (Sunset)
Cheese Soufflé (Sunset)
Tomato Bisque (Carla A)

Roasted Carrots (Barefoot Contessa)
Carrot Salad (France)
Tuscan Fennel Salad (Rachel B)

Katherine Hepburn's Brownies (Gourmet and Laurie Colwin)
Cherries Glacés (my mum)
Raspberry-Lemon Trifle (Gourmet)
Spiced Hot Chocolate (anonymous magazine at the gym)

Cookies:
World Peace Cookies (Dorie Greenspan)
Orange Shortbread Cookies with Chocolate Chips (Gourmet)
Buckwheat Butter Cookies with Cocoa Nibs (Pure Dessert, Alice Medrich)
Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter Cookies (Chocolate on the Brain, Kevin and Nancy Mills)

Walla Walla Washington to Kalamazoo

Here is a list of places I would like to visit next (and have never been) in somewhat of an order:

1. The Grand Canyon
2. Denmark including the Karen Blixen Museum
3. Montréal for French everything
4. British Columbia (a trip I'd like to take with my brother) and trips to islands.
5. Maine coast to look east to Europa, find sea glass, and haunt the shore towns. I would wear beautiful foreign silk scarves on my head when standing in the fierce wind on the bluffs. I would take a beakerful of sand and label it for display in my home.
6. Charleston and Savannah for local color and dunes

Casting Pearls

In case you're wondering if the Valrhona Les Perles are of note, they are. I bought this container of 0.45 lb dark chocolate pearls at Whole Foods in February and used some to decorate this birthday cake. I recommend both the cake and the pearls. The pearls have been sitting in my cupboard and I recently started eating them, one at a time. They are quite good and satisfying if you have nothing else that is chocolate or a fun sweet. They are small and nicely melty in the mouth. Tonight I channeled autumn and tossed a few in a mug of Mexican hot chocolate hoping they would float and look a charmed garnish. They sank like stones. I threw in a few more. By the time the mug was empty of all but froth, the pearls had gushed and let me bid a special farewell to the chocolate warmth. Please note the poached succulents and found shells in a mosaic bird bath, handmade.

Potato Salad: What is It Worth to You?

I'm sure you've heard the measure of a cook is pie crust. For this reason (and because I am no star in this arena), I don't make pies. A strange woman told me years ago the measure of a female is also her potato salad. I avoided it for years and became enthralled with vinaigrette-based potato salads because they are different enough the judgement would not apply. Then, I ran across this one (a combination of mayonnaise and vinegar) and have made it many times and love it to death. Please make it this summer.

Just this last week, we made a traditional version and it was quite good. But, I think that's what American potato salad is supposed to be. A good side for hamburgers and watermelon. I cut it some slack and it suprised me. My mother shredded the potatoes. I even ran to the store for sweet pickles and real mayonnaise. We used Idaho potatoes. There is a minimal amount of mayonnaise so it is not wet. All in all, quite pleasing and it is gone now, eaten for breakfast and other meals. We served it in an herb-decorated pasta bowl.

American-style Potato Salad with Eggs and Sweet Pickles
Serves 6 to 8

2 lbs Red Bliss or new potatoes, boiled, peeled if desired, and cut into 3/4-inch cubes
2 T red wine vinegar
1 t kosher salt or 1/2 t table salt
1/2 t ground black pepper
3 boiled eggs, cut into small dice
2-3 scallions, sliced thin (about 1/2 cup)
1 small celery stalk, cut into small dice (about 1/2 cup)
1/4 C sweet pickle (not relish), cut into small dice
1/2 C mayonnaise
2 T Dijon-style mustard
1/4 C minced fresh parsley

Layer warm potato cubes in a medium bowl. Sprinkle with vinegar, seasoning with salt and pepper as you go.
Mix in remaining ingredients. Refrigerate until ready to serve. Adjust seasonings and serve chilled.

From The Perfect Recipe by Pam Anderson

Healthy Fear

This is a list of some things that I avoid for no really good reason. I am not a picky person but each of these things throws up a internal orange flag and I need to stop the boat so I don't run over the skier. The fears are mostly ungrounded but nonetheless real. A few of the mentions are listed for good reason. Keep in mind, I don't mind YOU trying them and using them and loving them. Many will be happy to know I have overcome my fear of mint but not green food coloring in excess.

1. milk chocolate chips
2. pumpkin flavored cold food
3. wild rice (is it really all rice, or are there other plants/twigs? mind you, i eat it but do not cook with it.)
4. white cooked cellaphane-y asian noodles that are too thick and too soft. (they look like brains which i have eaten but did not love.)
5. tube pans
6. cheesecake (and most cream cheese-based dishes)
7. carrot cake that weighs over 12 lbs. (once i was made to lug a carrot sheet cake for an event and the orange flag was born that day.)
8. cookies from a mix (i embrace packaged cookies in general.)
9. vegetable oil (i would use any amount of butter any day.)
10. sugared nuts in salad (i roast and toast but do not sweeten the savory and perfect nut.)

Remember?

The castle of Cair Paravel on its little hill towered up above them; before them were the sands, with rocks and little pools of salt water, and seaweed, and the smell of the sea and long miles of bluish-green waves breaking for ever and ever on the beach. And oh, the cry of the sea-gulls! Have you heard it? Can you remember?

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

I don't know about you but it seems awfully summertime to me. My interest in seasonal food is renewed. Having come across tomato pie in a plethora of cookbooks, you can be sure I'll try it this summer. Also on the hotplate would be coleslaw with celery seed. I just found a nice recipe in The Junior League at Home, Carolina Coleslaw with Celery Seed Dressing. No mayo but the dressing is boiled. And, it calls for cider vinegar. As I am a sucker for marinated cabbage, the Mango-Cabbage Slaw is also a draw. Since we're talking salad, Virginia Bicentennial Chicken Salad is making me hungry. Soy sauce and water chestnuts are involved as are pineapple tidbits.

And, since we're talking cookbooks, I am under the influence of Dorie Greenspan's Paris Sweets. There is a very seasonal creation I plan to see to fruition. My days are filled with the question, "when?" It is a mite involved from crust to pastry cream to orange marshmallows to strawberries at their peak. My current radar is programmed to find potato starch to dust the marshmallow pans. Once found, I will be on my way.

Saffron, or Why You Should Take a Trip

My favorite freeway exit downtown is Washington Street. It housed the Pier 1 outlet which peaked for a short time, became mostly seconds, and then a place I never went. Years ago I purchased a headboard there. Recently it gave up the ghost and become a vacant building and canvas for graffiti art. I wonder about its rebirth.

The thing about Washington is you take a left turn and then a right onto India Street. The corner is gelato, Saffron is midway down, and Shakespeare's pub corners it off. You either turn left and go up the hill or you turn right into El Indio's parking lot. Might I suggest the lot? I have spent some quality time at El Indio especially when I first moved to this fair region and have Scout to thank for indoctrinating me. I recall with fondness the mini bean and cheese burrito, the paprika chips, the taquitos. We have enjoyed it to the fullest. I've been to the gelato place a couple times, and never to Shakespeare's pub. I heard it was so-so. Saffron was an unknown.

Katya introduced me to Saffron, and specifically the tofu salad rolls. The rolls are made in the morning. You walk into the baby pocket of a shop and order, calling out the sauce preference. I get peanut and a spicy sweet. The three salad rolls are wrapped in cool white parchment and stuffed with tofu, carrots, lettuce, mint, white noodles, and more. The sauce is potable. For under $5, one walks away with perfection.

I know I'm ignoring Old Town, and I'm turning a blind eye to Sassafrass, an exit I avoid for airport popularity. When I drive to the airport I get off at Washington and drive the rest of the way to the airport, turning right on Sassafrass and left onto the big street. It is my affection for Washington and India and my dislike of the road most travelled. A personal quest if you will. Every trip to the airport should include a stop on India Street for some homey vittels. It's hard to go wrong.

Of Cooking and Fanatics

Sometimes (on that rare occasion) I become enthused. A small number of these instances progresses off the chart. This is one of those times. For no reason, I read Cooking for Mr. Latte by Amanda Hesser a few months ago. I thought it was entertaining, fun, somewhat meaningful, and chock full of recipes (being something that I admit to treasuring). I may have recommended it to someone, or not. Then, I came across a copy of the book at the DM library sale and picked it up, remembering the recipes (I had photocopied some). I reviewed the book and shortly thereafter became possessed. Everyone must read this book. Ok, everyone is overstatement. I mean those who care for cooking which is a large number of my cohorts. Some of the recipes are listed here. Today I made two batches of Beans and Tomatoes with Vinaigrette. At Easter, I took Chocolate Chunk-Pecan-Coconut Cookies to dinner. See recipes below. My paperback copy is lent. Last week I visited the new Encinitas library and found a signed hard copy in the Friends of the Library store. I gasped and bought it. The cover is different; I prefer the pb cover. I admit to perusing this book a little every day. It is an illness. I am going to visit the familia and decided not to take any books with me. I needed a new start. As you may guess, I decided tonight to take Mr. Latte. Perhaps this phase will wane. But, in the meantime . . .

Beans and Tomatoes in Vinaigrette

Sea salt
1 pound green beans, trimmed
3 ripe tomatoes, cored and cut into 1-inch cubes
1 T Dijon mustard
1 T red wine vinegar
Pinch of sugar (I accidentally left this out and did not miss it)
1/4 C best-quality olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper

1. Fill a medium saucepan with water. Season generously with salt. Bring to a rolling boil, and add the beans. Cook until tender on the edges but still quite crisp, about 4 minutes. Drain and rinse under cold water. Dry on a towel. Cut the beans in half, then combine in a large serving bowl with the tomatoes.
2. Whisk together the mustard and vinegar with a pinch of sugar and a pinch of sea salt (I forgot both pinches). Gradually whisk in the oil, letting it thicken and emulsify as you go. Pour the dressing over the beans and tomatoes and toss to mix. It's okay if the dressing pools in the bottom of the bowl. Someone can later mop it up with bread or spoon it over their potatoes or lamb. Season generously with freshly ground black pepper and toss once more. Let sit for at least 15 minutes before serving.
Salad for 4.

Chocolate Chunk-Pecan-Coconut Cookies

2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
1 C sugar
1 C packed light brown sugar
2 t vanilla extract
3 large eggs
3 C all-purpose flour
1 t baking soda
Pinch sea salt
24 ounces best-quality bittersweet chocolate, chopped into chunks, shreds and all
2 C toasted chopped pecans
1 C grated coconut

1. Preheat the oven to 325F. Grease 2 large baking sheets. In a mixer fitted with a paddle or whisk, cream the butter with the sugar and light brown sugar until it's good and fluffy like a mousse. Add the vanilla and eggs and keep beating until it's smooth.
2. In a small bowl, stir together the flour, baking soda and salt. Add it to the mixer in small portions, beating it on low until blended in before adding more. Once the dry ingredients are all in there, pour in the chocolate, pecans and coconut. Fold them in by hand, with a spatula—it is a bit of a workout, but the best way to coat the ingredients evenly.
3. My mother likes to chill the dough a little (30 minutes or so) before baking, which helps the cookies hold their shape better when baking. Then she uses an ice cream scoop to drop the dough onto the sheets. She flattens them lightly with her fingers, so they spread evenly. They should be about 1/2 inch thick and 2 inches around before baking. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, until lightly browned on the edges and cooked in the center. Cool on racks. Store in a cookie tin.
Two dozen large cookies.

A Claim and Honor: A Field of Books

Charlotte's Web by E.B. White was published in 1952. In 1953, the Newbery Medal went to Secret of the Andes by Ann Nolan Clark. Honor (runners-up) books included Charlotte's Web, Moccasin Trail by Eloise Jarvis McGraw, Red Sails to Capri by Ann Weil, The Bears on Hemlock Mountain by Alice Dalgliesh, and Birthdays of Freedom, Vol. 1 by Genevieve Foster. White swimming respectfully in an honored sea of women. And what of the Andean secret? Do you know it?

As you are aware, the Newbery Medal "is awarded annually by the American Library Association for the most distinguished American children's book published the previous year." Named for the eighteenth century bookseller, John Newbery, who perhaps stocked an inordinate number of children's books or perchance fathered 16 children. In either case, it is the first children's book award in the world.

The 1922 Newbery stated aim is threefold:
To encourage original creative work in the field of books for children.
To emphasize to the public that contributions to the literature for children deserve similar recognition to poetry, plays, or novels.
To give those librarians, who make it their life work to serve children's reading interests, an opportunity to encourage good writing in this field.

I find each point bracing in its humanity and shot with sadness. First, the chance to win a medal (i.e., fame, honor, possibly fortune) encourages creativity in books for children. Second, the committee of writers saw fit to publish a statement of human rights: Children's books deserve equality. And last, the interest of loyal librarians plays as cheerleaders in the hometown game. They can enourage good writing! You got to want it to win it and they want it more. I don't know what they are doing mixed up with authors and the creation of literature unless the Newbery people knew that reading would influence the rising generation to write. Charlotte's egg sac.

In Review: The Olives Table

My friend R presented me The Olives Table some years ago (2002 from the inscription). I immediately rejoiced. She was surprised and vaguely bored I had heard of it. R is often vaguely bored. Written by chef Todd English and food writer Sally Sampson, it is a repeated source of dream. In fact, I have not made much from it (just the Sweet Potato Soup), but have earmarked numerous pages, and for about the whole time I’ve had it, pined to make Green Apple Risotto with Cabbage and Bacon. The liquid is apple juice and water. This is a welcome change from most risotto. I have never made risotto, but when I do, it will be an event. This dish is an “interesting accompaniment to duck, chicken, or pork.”

Other recipes that need to be created: Carl’s Pagoda-Inspired Tomato Soup (in late summer or early fall), Roasted Cumin Carrots (roasted carrots are a staple here and this with cumin, cilantro, garlic, and feta send a whiff of pleasure), Apple Fennel Mashed Potatoes (includes rosemary, apple cider), mostly Tahini-Marinated Chicken with Honey, Yogurt, and Ginger Sauce (in Todd’s words, it is “simply luscious”), and the interesting Steamed Tagine of Halibut with Morrocan-Spiced Spaghetti Squash. More than one of these dishes boasts a yogurt sauce. This is appealing for the salt and herbs. Plain yogurt is my friend. A simple raita is heaven. If I went mad I would make the Gingersnap Risotto Pudding and serve with fresh blueberries. On a moment’s reflection, I would make this for RB if a visit were eminent. Some people love crystallized ginger.



I enjoy Todd English for his name, his dramatic hair, and his way of teaching. He is a man who often chews “on a stalk [of fennel] while [he is] working in the kitchen” because he finds the sweet anise-like flavor refreshing. We dined once at Olives in Las Vegas. I chiefly remember the flat bread with sweet (probably fig) jam and perhaps prosciutto. One day I hope to visit his Boston restaurant and work my way around an olive pit. For now, his book is inspired and highly useful to the home cook.

In Dream: Leave Everything Else Behind

Last night I dreamed my neighbor gave me two Sea-Doos. The intent was I could sell them for money. They were magnificent and in truth, one was a small boat. My neighbor is in her 90s and though sharper than most people's wit, she doesn't have Sea-Doos. I bet she has ridden on one to two. In the dream, I contemplated keeping the crafts and then talked myself out of it. Though fun, I only have fun rarely. The money was the correct choice.

I love water and watercraft but I've never planned to own Sea-Doos. I would choose to dream of being in a garden or a rain forest or meet an enchanting person.

As a child, I had the dream of dreams. It was the feeling that magnified its success. I woke euphoric. It was a library. The volumes were shades of pink, mostly hot pink like a Barbie library. It was tall like a library in Beauty and the Beast. I marveled.

My dad would have a recurring nightmare of a horse scratching him. Just lifting its hoof and reaching out to scratch him. For nightmare, I had shoreline scariness of water and sinking and sand. When I am stressed, I dream I'm falling. I hardly ever remember dreams. And, when I do, they are not normally important to my waking life.

I know the Lord speaks to people in dreams in scripture. I love that and have always wanted to experience it. Speaking to them in story or even in detail. I still wait. But, I do remember on my mission I had a dream that led to a visit of a family in the branch congregation. The husband told us later it saved them. We had no idea what was going on, but a small visit by two missionaries led them to make a right choice that kept their family together. I find a lot of spiritual experiences I have are for other people. For the most part, when I pray for others. But don't worry, both parties benefit from heaven's benevolence.

Mosaic

I wanted to exhibit a project recently completed for a friend's birthday. It is the continent of Africa in buttons, stretched on wood frames. The notion of button art came direct from T who made a Christmas present for A. A bird for each family member. And, sewed the branches and bird legs to boot.

I was happy to find a way to use this method and it is now on the wall.

The pearlized buttons shimmer like water.




The buttons are from my mum, Sue T, Scout, and a quilt shop in La Mesa, thanks to Susan's directive.

Wallpaper: A Note to Self

On my computer desktop at this moment I have 47 digital stickie notes. Forty-one of these stickie notes are recipes. The recipes remain in the stickie zone until they are proved and as stickies were perhaps intended, a reminder. There’s roasted curried cauliflower, sautéed tangerine shrimp, chile blanco, and salted fudge brownies. Spicy slaw, bolo de amêndoa, zucchini carpaccio salad, and lemony potato salad with olives, corn, and cashews. Citrus and avocado salad with honey vinaigrette and touch-of-grace biscuits.

What of establishment fare? Du-Par’s steak pot pie, traditional sunset salad from “21” Club, and Blue Chip chocolate chip cookies. My family breakfasted at Du-Par’s in Glendale under the tall bank tower. My father ordered two eggs any style (sunny side up) with hash browns, wheat toast, and decaf. Inevitably, he ordered bear claws to end the fast.

The eggplant ricotta bake I made in November is still listing on screen. I wasn’t wild about it the first day and will definitely drain the ricotta next time, but I thoroughly enjoyed doses of leftovers and have since repeatedly thought about its tomato-y goodness. The stickie note stays for now.

I can’t think of something I don’t love about a recipe—where it came from, when it was served, why it was created, what works with it and what doesn’t, family favorites. Handwriting, recipe card choice, the story.

Two recipes have been made to acclaim—fresh ginger and chocolate gingerbread and buckwheat butter cookies with cocoa nibs. From Dorie Greenspan and Alice Medrich, respectively. How to save them now? I prefer RB’s old-fashioned gingerbread recipe above this one, but this has chocolate icing and the real ginger is a draw. The buckwheat cookies have been made so often, I like having the recipe handy.

For dessert, gâteau au chocolat fondant de Nathalie, peanut ice cream, cardamom and lemon rice pudding made in a slow cooker, s’more brownies, chocolate candied orange peel. And from a stickie on the Taylor’s refrigerator door, Grandma’s coconut pecan frosting.

Home Movies

As I came home from Christmas, I added a DVD to the small private collection. I rarely buy movies. If I rent, I go to the library just down the street. They have a good selection and I can order from other county libraries if they don't have one I want to see. Just now, I have La Vie en Rose ordered. I thought I would post the movies here that I have. It is fun to see what people have and why. When someone asks your favorite movie, you may hedge and stumble and be rendered dumb. Overload. One of my favorite movies is Howards End. It has a lot going for it. It is like literature on screen. Here is the list of DVDs and videotapes respectively.

Marie Antoinette (Christmas gift)
Sense and Sensibility ($5 from Target)
Babette's Feast (gift)
To Catch a Thief (gift)
Cyrano de Bergerac
Finding Neverland
Chocolat
The Phantom of the Opera (gift)
Il Postino
The Birds (gift)
Wuthering Heights (gift)
Charade
Toy Story (gift)
Breakfast at Tiffany's
Jane Eyre (gift)
The Parent Trap (gift)
The Black Stallion
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
The Pearl

Little Women
Kate and Leopold
Howards End
Henry V
Cry, the Beloved Country
Out of Africa
The Way We Were
An Ideal Husband
The Age of Innocence
Emma
The Remains of the Day
Cinema Paradiso
My Mother’s Castle
My Father’s Glory
Au Revoir Les Enfants
Sabrina
Funny Face
My Fair Lady
Roman Holiday
Paris When It Sizzles
Breakfast at Tiffany’s

I gave up marking which are gifts and which are not. They are mostly gifts.

In the Beginning

Well, I can't wait any longer. PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS POST IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE PREVIOUS POST. Like Harry Potter season, there are spoilers.

Here are the answers:

1. The Age of Innocence, Edith Wharton
2. Smilla's Sense of Snow, Peter Høeg
3. Confessions of Felix Krull, Confidence Man (The Early Years), Thomas Mann
4. Stones for Ibarra, Harriet Doerr
5. James and the Giant Peach, Roald Dahl
6. A Year in Provence, Peter Mayle
7. Island of the Blue Dolphins, Scott O'Dell

I'm sorry to say no one wins a prize for guessing (right or wrong) all of them. I don't blame you . . . really. Now you can redeem yourselves.

And now the challenge. Please write a fantastic first line to your book and post it here. I expect all of you to participate.

I'm working on mine.

First Lines

Here is an assortment of story beginnings. For the first who guesses (correct or incorrect) the book titles, there will be a special prize (not a hug, as my nephew offered to give me this week for guessing something incredible). The answers will be posted in several days. Knock yourselves out.

Here they are as found on my bookshelf:

1. On a January evening of the early seventies, Christine Nilsson was singing in Faust at the Academy of Music in New York.
2. It's freezing—an extraordinary 0 degrees Fahrenheit—and it's snowing, and in the language that is no longer mine, the snow is qanik—big, almost weightless crystals falling in clumps and covering the ground with a layer of pulverized white frost.
3. As I take up my pen at leisure and in complete retirement—in good health, furthermore, though tired, so tired that I shall only be able to proceed by short stages and with frequent pauses for rest—as I take up my pen, then, to commit my confessions to this patient paper in my own neat and attractive handwriting, I am assailed by a brief misgiving about the educational background I bring to an intellectual enterprise of this kind.
4. Here they are, two North Americans, a man and a woman just over and just under forty, come to spend their lives in Mexico and already lost as they travel cross-country over the central plateau.
5. Here is James Henry Trotter when he was about four years old.
6. The year began with lunch.
7. I remember the day the Aleut ship came to our island.

Jolly Holidays: We were Merry

My brother has recorded an event from our holiday season. Guesses as to what movie we saw?

Over the Christmas season we were pleased to reacquaint ourselves with relatives visiting from California. One evening midway through their visit, in front of a roaring fire, we watched a movie.

We would later pen the following list:

+ Top 5 Signs Your Party Guests May Dislike Your Movie +

1. "Is this a full-length movie?" (Expected answer: "No.")

2. "Is the whole movie like this?" (Feared answer: "Like what?")

3. Facial expressions of disbelief, pain, or despair when other viewers are laughing.

4. Upon movie's completion: "I could have spent this time ... (fill in the blank)."

5. A strong belief the movie was longer than its actual length: "It was only 84 minutes?!"

On Tap: Hearth and Home

If you know my brother, you know he is a hot chocolate enthusiast. The interesting thing is his chocolate of choice is Stephen's or Swiss Miss. He is a purist in this sense. He does pump on some whipped cream. This is his mug of choice.



It is a Harry Potter mug by Johnson Bros. There is a selection of about 6 HP mugs on the mug tree.

This is my favorite mug for hot c.



It is from Hawaii and I believe we received them (there are two) from my mother's mother. I am basically the only one who uses them which is just fine with me. Tonight I enjoyed Stephen's Cinnamon Chocolate or Chocolate Cinnamon. The cinnamon is very minor. Sometimes food or drink without strong taste can be described as friendly. I can't take rich chocolate ever since I suffered from a chocolate frozen drink at Chuao. To say it was potent is understatement. It was a wrenching experience and my stomach has not been the same.

2007 in Brief and 2008 in Dream

Two Thousand Seven

Made me gasp: harrowing rise in Kiehl's skin care pricing.
Highly enjoyable: the card swap group and pertaining card creations
Most memorable book: The Great Fire by Shirley Hazzard
Poetry of interest: from Author Mary Oliver
New perfume: Miette pour Moi by L'Artisan Parfumeur Paris

Two Thousand Eight

Write a book of poetry or verse
Obtain authentic fleur de sel at any cost
Display favorite dishes in a glass fronted cabinet
Display LEGO magnets
Practice b/w photography

End of Year Spring Clean

Gone are the days of airing out the mattress ticking and beating the curtains in the prairie breeze. I feel a bit left out I have never slept on a hay filled mattress. Feathers is the closest I've come to nature. The season changes are a good time to let go and begin anew.

Our new year is also traditional. I have committed to deleting much of my email inbox before 2008 dawns. This may be my only nod at a fresh start. I do have several goals for the new year though which is good for me (obviously I need to make some changes . . . ). Often I have none, but possess a trace desire to improve this or that. I may improve on that record this year. What is in your book of tricks?

Anniversary of the Death of the Testator

What did you do on Dec. 10? According to my very accurate calendar, I did nothing. I went to my journal and see I ate dinner at Milton's with my friend G. We then went across the parking lot to Book Works and browsed. I didn't work as much as I had planned. I ordered some books for gifts (which arrived yesterday in case you care). I spoke on the phone to A. And, I made buckwheat butter cookies with cocoa nibs. Strange, I also made them yesterday. They are quite yummers.

And you?

On Dec. 10, my goal in life is to be in Sweden for the Nobel Award presentations and of course, the banquet. It happens every year and if the weather holds, I'll be around for a few more Dec. 10s at least. I am hopeful.

Doris Lessing did not make it to see her award for literature to physical fruition: the diploma, the medal, and the prize money. I imagine she stayed in the comfort of home in front of the fire.

But, if I went to the ceremony and the banquet, I would want to leave with a diploma. I don't need or want a medal. I would feel beholden to the Royal Family if they gave me a significant spot of money.

But, that diploma is right up my alley. I have a weakness for paper products in general and anything in ink. This is Orhan Pamuk's diploma from 2006 in literature. And, dramatist Harold Pinter's from 2005.

If you are unfortunate enough to be asked to share your Nobel with another or several, your diploma will be similar but different. A variation on a theme as it were.

I may need to marry into the Royal Family or become a chef to them to attend, but I look forward to it nonetheless.

From the Sidelines

Imagine a morning in late November. A coming of winter morning more than twenty years ago. Consider the kitchen of a spreading old house in a country town. A great black stove is its main feature; but there is also a big round table and a fireplace with two rocking chairs placed in front of it. Just today the fireplace commenced its seasonal roar.

A woman with shorn white hair is standing at the kitchen window. She is wearing tennis shoes and a shapeless gray sweater over a summery calico dress. She is small and sprightly, like a bantam hen; but, due to a long youthful illness, her shoulders are pitifully hunched. Her face is remarkable—not unlike Lincoln's, craggy like that, and tinted by sun and wind; but it is delicate too, finely boned, and her eyes are sherry-colored and timid. "Oh my," she exclaims, her breath smoking the windowpane, "it's fruitcake weather!"

The above is the start of Capote's A Christmas Memory, a story to make you hum.

I decided on mostly sides for our Thanksgiving dinner. This is the final menu.

corn casserole

cider-glazed carrots

green beans with sage and pancetta

roasted turkey

read all about it rolls

southwestern cornbread stuffing

mashed potatoes

cranberry sauce

gravy

all-in-one holiday bundt cake

tollhouse pie

pumpkin pie

apple pie

We decided there was not a dud in the bunch. I strongly recommend the carrots, beans, and stuffing. The holiday bundt cake was wonderful and a brilliant solution for non-pie people (like moi). I think I was done eating by then but will enjoy it more in a few days. I've linked two recipes above and here are the remaining two.

Southwestern Corn Bread Stuffing
The All-New Good Housekeeping Cookbook

2 C yellow cornmeal
2 t baking powder
1 t baking soda
1 t salt
2 C buttermilk
1/2 C butter (1 stick), melted and cooled
1 can (14 3/4 oz) cream-style corn
2 cans (4 to 4 1/2 oz each) chopped mild green chiles
8 oz Monterey Jack cheese, shredded (2 C)
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 C chicken broth

Prepare corn bread: Preheat oven to 350 degree F. Grease 13" x 9" baking pan or deep oven-safe 12-inch skillet.

In large bowl, with spoon, mix cornmeal, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Stir in buttermilk, melted butter, corn, chiles, cheese, and eggs and mix until thoroughly blended. Pour batter into baking pan.

Bake corn bread until top is browned and toothpick inserted in center comes out clean, 60 to 65 minutes. Cool corn bread in pan on wire rack. (The cornbread can be used after cooling to make stuffing, but it will make a firmer stuffing if allowed to stale slightly. If desired, cover and reserve corn bread up to 2 days.

Prepare stuffing: Crumble corn bread into large bowl. Drizzle with broth; toss to mix well. Use to stuff 12- to 16-pound turkey, or serve in baking dish alongside poultry or ham: Spoon stuffing into greased 13" by 9" baking dish; cover with foil and bake in preheated 325 degree F oven until heated through, about 45 minutes. Makes about 11 cups stuffing.


All-in-One Holiday Bundt Cake
Baking: From My Home to Yours, Dorie Greenspan

2 C flour
2 t baking powder
1/2 t baking soda
2 t ground cinnamon
1/4 t freshly grated nutmeg
Pinch of salt
1 1/2 t grated fresh ginger (or 1 t ground ginger)
1 1/4 sticks (10 tablespoons) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 C sugar
1/2 C (packed) light brown sugar
2 large eggs, at room temperature
1 t pure vanilla extract
1 1/4 C canned unsweetened pumpkin puree
1 large apple, peeled, cored, and finely chopped
1 C cranberries, halved or coarsely chopped
1 C pecans, coarsely chopped

Getting ready: Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter a 9- to 10-inch (12-cup) Bundt pan. Don't place the pan on a baking sheet—you want the oven's heat to circulate freely through the Bundt's inner tube.

Whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt, and ground ginger, if you're using it (not the grated ginger).

Working with a stand mixer, preferably fitted with a paddle attachment, or with a hand mixer in a large bowl, beat the butter and both sugars together at medium speed until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, and beat for 1 minute after each addition. Beat in the vanilla. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the pumpkin, chopped apple, and grated ginger, if you're using it—don't be concerned if the mixture looks curdled. Still on low speed, add the dry ingredients, mixing only until they are incorporated. With a rubber spatula, stir in the cranberries and pecans. Scrape the batter into the pan and smooth the top with the rubber spatula.

Bake for 60 to 70 minutes, or until a thin knife inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Transfer the cake to a rack and cool for 10 minutes before unmolding, then cool to room temperature on the rack.

Just before bringing the cake to the table, dust it with confectioners' sugar.

Playing around
Maple Syrup Icing
To make a maple-flavored icing for the cake, sift 6 T confectioners' sugar into a bowl. Stir in 2 T maple syrup. Add more maple syrup little by little, until you have an icing that runs nicely off the tip of the spoon—you might need another 1/2 T syrup to get the right consistency. Put the cooled cake on a sheet of wax paper and drizzle the icing from the tip of the spoon over it. Let the icing set for a few minutes before serving.

Thanksgiving: Where's the Feast?

When my eldest nephew was young he and I marched into the dining room for Thanksgiving and he took in the view. He then said to me quietly, where's the feast? He had attended preschool and learned of the native Americans and the pilgrims. Folk ate at long tables laden with maize and horns of plenty.

For an undisclosed (and unknown) purpose, my bank offered me six months of free magazines. I chose Bon Appétit, Food and Wine, The New Yorker, Victoria, and Home and Garden. This is like offering candy to a pre-Halloween child. I am fixated on Thanksgiving and have started a list of dishes.

In my family, we all make a few things and bring them to the table. Of course, a few emails prior lets everyone have dibs on what they want to make. My mother is normally saddled with the turkey which she does not complain about as she ties up the roasting bag. My sister makes highly touted rolls. My brother cooks potato buds and Stovetop and then monitors how much of the real stuff is consumed versus the box delights.

Though we have enjoyed a variety of winners, I always make something new and have the magazines to blame for it. I am a patriotic subscriber of Gourmet and Saveur and MS Living. I have not received Saveur and fear they are doing a Nov/Dec issue or the plant burned down.

As mentioned, I am getting a bit giddy. Here is my list thus far. I will eventually narrow down to 3 or 4. It is going to take some doing.

From Bon Appétit:
Cornbread Dressing with Roasted Fall Vegetables
Sweet Potato Hash
Pumpkin Mascarpone Pie
Sweet Potato Pie with Marshmallow Meringue (this could be it)
Lemon-Herb Turkey with Lemon Garlic Gravy (if this was all I was cooking, I might go for it)

From Food and Wine:
Butternut Squash Bread Pudding
Roasted Turkey with Tangerine Glaze
Tortilla-Corn Bread Dressing
Creamed Onions with Thyme and Sage

From Gourmet:
Bittersweet Chocolate Pecan Pie
Butternut Squash with Pumpkin-seed Pesto
Coconut Tart
Sugared Cranberries and Sage Leaves
Plum Pumpkin Tart

Non-Thanksgiving fare from Gourmet:
Cider-glazed Lamb Chops
Shrimp in Garlic Sauce
Spicy Green Salad with Manchego and Pears
Napa Cabbage Salad with Buttermilk Dressing
Shrimp with Indian-spiced Potatoes

Non-Thanksgiving fare from Bon Appétit:
Roasted Butternut Squash with Lime Juice
Carmelized Pears with Dulce de Leche Ice Cream
Sage and Honey Skillet Cornbread
Sage-Scented Shortbread

Non-Thanksgiving fare from Food and Wine:
Apple Cake with Toffee Crust

Non-Thanksgiving fare from MS Living:
Cranberry Compote Layered with Lemon Ricotta

Thirst: In the Clear

The settlers are moving back. The smoke is clear; the rain came today. I spent a novel week in Newport Beach with little Rachie in her new digs. I made three visits to Paper Source and at least four to Pacific Whey Cafe, both Crystal Cove and South Coast. Shameful to some, obvious to others. Must recommend the crème brulée bread pudding and the cinnamon custard triangle.

When the Roses Speak, I Pay Attention
by Mary Oliver

"As long as we are able to
be extravagant we will be
hugely and damply
extravagant. Then we will drop
foil by foil to the ground. This
is our unalterable task, and we do it
joyfully."

And they went on. "Listen,
the heart-shackles are not, as you think,
death, illness, pain,
unrequited hope, not loneliness, but

lassitude, rue, vainglory, fear, anxiety,
selfishness."

Their fragrance all the while rising
from their blind bodies, making me
spin with joy.

The Girls

Today I met a friend at The Bookworks immediately after church meetings. The Sabbath is a good day to visit friends. So, the slight woman next to moi is Alice Waters. I have known her for a long time. She just met me today and judging by the look on her face she found me fascinating.

I met Katya in the parking lot and we descended on the store in typical fashion. There was no lecture and the only thing to represent food in clear sight was the table Ms. Waters sat by to sign The Art of Simple Food. Having no book to sign, I plonked down with her and Katya snapped us. Ms. Waters has a kind voice. There was wine and cheese tasting elsewhere in the store.

I relived the Jacques Pépin lecture and signing at this same location a few years ago. It was a night to remember. Was it night? I scarcely know. But, I have his signed (en français) book to enjoy. There were fraises des bois and various creations from Fast Food My Way. KTG and I attended (and paid $10) to have Martha Stewart sign our books at a Design Expo in Salt Lake. KTG engaged her in conversation. I had her sign an asparagus page and she commented on the healthy growth of her own that year. I attended a presentation (Q & A?) and booksigning by Amy Tan also in Salt Lake. She brought her pooches in Vuitton dog carriers. I remember little else.

Today, the couple in line in front of us brought a menu from Chez Panisse, 2003. She signed it for them. They became engaged at the restaurant that evening. I heartily congratulated the fellow while his wife picked up their reserved copy of the book.

The Junior League: Who are They?

I don't belong to any civic group for which I am the poorer. If I decided to join one, it would probably be The Junior League about which I know nothing and know no one who is a member. I do know of their fruits. It appears that many of the city leagues have produced one or more cookbooks. This is no doubt to raise funds for volunteerism. But what do I know? Maybe they are like me . . . cookbook fiends. In fact, if I collect anything at all, it is matchbooks and cookbooks. Two different book forms but I do find some parallels. Statement of location, artful packaging, and tools within. Matchbooks are a dying breed in some establishments. Cookbooks have never enjoyed a wider audience.

This summer, my mother and I enjoyed sun in the pool carping about the titles from some of these small and well-mannered collections. You see, she possesses The Junior League Centennial Cookbook: Over 750 of the Most Treasured Recipes from 200 Junior Leagues. You may draw breath in the scope and let me assure you, the tome is worthy of readership. The titles of the books that make up this composite were fodder for our afternoons. We tried to find the best title (many are named for location): Gold'n Delicious from Spokane, I'll Taste Manhattan from NYC, Simply Simpático from Albuquerque. Others are simply an evocation of style: Applehood & Motherpie from Rochester, Magic from Birmingham, Posh Pantry from Kankakee, IL. The page layout in the centennial edition is quite excellent.

I don't possess any of the geographic cookbooks but I know my mother has A Pinch of Salt Lake. I did indulge to make the Pain Perdu from Epicure in Orange County on page 292. Lemon rind and nutmeg add. My family was especially pleased with the Roast Barbeque (Applehood & Motherpie) and I happily shared a container with ma très jolie soeur. She tripled the recipe a few weeks ago to feed her gigantic horde of inlaws. I would serve this with a vinaigrette coleslaw. Next on my list to try is Aunt Kay's Sesame Chicken from page 237. It hails from Utah Dining Car of the Ogden League.

Imagine my wonder as I happened on both books from Palo Alto a few months ago at the library sale in SB. One with a dust jacket, one without. Old and slim. Oddly, I had even told myself as I read the centennial that I would never find these two books. I thought they were long gone to history (after looking them up online). Truly, a find for the ages: Private Collection and Private Collection 2.

River Heights and Cair Paravel

I was babysitting two children and a dog until yesterday night. It was a delight to read their books, study their pantry and cupboard layout, and spend time with the best people in the world, the children.

On Thursday, I happily indulged in Nancy Drew: The Clue In The Jewel Box (Nancy Drew Mystery Stories # 20). Nancy models in a fashion show for Helen Corning's Eastern Euro designer friend, she meets an Eastern Euro princess in a department store and ultimately reunites her with a long-lost grandson, and rides the Ferris wheel with Ned Nickerson. Twice in the book she comforts small children and once teases Bess about her appetite. In the chapter A Ferocious Dog, she alights three times. No one alights in our day and it is disappointing. Nancy and her friends and family were created to "alight."

Back at home, I finished the last pages of an illustrated The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. In pursuit of the White Stag in the Western Woods, King Peter addresses King Edmund, Queen Susan, and Queen Lucy:

"Fair Consorts, let us now alight from our horses and follow this beast into the thicket; for in all my days I never hunted a nobler quarry."
"Sir," said the others, "even so let us do."
So they alighted and tied their horses to trees and went on into the thick wood on foot.

Instead of leaving the house for the ward luau tonight, I will consciously alight to the party. Alighting means to me: moving quickly to or from in a gracious manner. You will not find this definition in the OED. Usually those who alight are willowy and silent (not exactly me). I used to quit the house and now I will alight.

Luau Punch

2 46-ounce cans pineapple juice
1 orange
2 bananas
1 1/2 C sugar
3-4 large 7-Ups

In the blender, chop the orange peel until fine. Add the orange, bananas, sugar, and 2 cups of pineapple juice. Pour in the remaining juice and stir. Freeze in Zip-locs. Remove from freezer until slushy. Pour in 7-Up and serve in a punch bowl.

Stargazers

I am sitting, lying, and basking in heaven. This house has a fabulous collection of children's literature. In fact, as I chose my first stack this morning, I felt like I was at the library. I began with The Pinkish, Purplish, Bluish Egg by Bill Peet. There is a good number of Peets so I will intersperse them in my reading. Followed with a familiar favorite, The Secret Three by Mildred Myrick, drawings by Arnold Lobel. The cross-hatched children and the sea and the bottle are Harriet Welsh's childhood. Blue and yellow make green. It is inscribed by the author to J. H. M., who has sent many messages. I hope I am the kind of person of whom it is said, she sent many messages. Snippets from Happy Times in Noisy Village by Astrid Lindgren, illustrated by Ilon Wikland is good for those wanting to read of Lisa, Karl, Bill, Anna, Olaf, and Britta. Further on, there is Lotta. I ended the sitdown with Stargazer to the Sultan by Barbara K. Walker and Mine Sümer, illustrated by Joseph Low. I enjoy a palatable moral. Next to go: Lonely Scarecrow (if you can get through it, says the mom) by Tim Preston, illustrated by Maggie Kneen and The Three Golden Apples by Nathaniel Hawthorne. They also have a piano. I am pleased.

You've Arrived

During college years and those that followed, we discussed what we would have or where we would be when we knew we had arrived (i.e., financial security, well-being, adulthood, etc. Unbeknownst to most of us, it would take a while and we are still in it). My friend S. would own multisized Zip-locs and foil and Saran Wrap. She would use them indiscriminately, not washing the used Zip-locs for later. At one point, she also said she would have an iPod.

I remember my focus was a deep freeze full of white packaged meats, casseroles, and ice cream and popsicles. Why these? A sense of well-being sometimes comes from having things at the ready. I am not an extreme carnivore but do eat numerous glacial desserts. I would also like good windows and fruit trees. I wanted to go to See's candy for a pound of selected chocolates to keep in the fridge and eat at will (not as a gift).

A garden is a world of well-being. This week my two gifted plumeria are blooming simultaneously. It makes me renew my quest for a bit of dirt to plant them in for years to come. For now, they grace the pool at the complex and gladden the eye. Potted.

Bright Copper Kettles

I hope I am not an overly greedy person. It is always a joy to happen upon something you find perfect, appropriate, so well done. Following is a personal list of such treasure:

Book Title: The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, Carson McCullers
Comforter: Fraulein Maria's dark gold satin in her bedroom most noticeably showcased in My Favorite Things. Had she used this for the children's play clothes, they would have plumped up.
Albacore Salad: Waters Fine Foods
Black Pants: Worn by Kenneth Branaugh in Hamlet
Floor: White marble worn smooth as water
Color: Ocean
Pre-dinner Tasting: Olives
Idea: the library
Art Form: the book cover

Midsummer Meal

Yesterday I finished all 853 pages of Five Smooth Stones which took twenty moons to complete. It is the current read of the Reading Society and we look forward to discussing in September after our summer hiatus. We try to resemble Congress in our vacation schedule. I was surprised to pick up Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Birthmark soon after putting down the tome.

To celebrate any small victory, it is nice to plan a dinner party. I have not entertained in twenty moons either. So tonight was it. Here is the menu.

Wild Smoked Salmon

Mint, Feta, and Watermelon Salad (recipe on an earlier post)
Pasta with Sun-Dried Tomatoes

Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter Cookies

Peach Infused Water

My guests were kind and appreciative. We discussed everything: counseling, Sunday School rooms, kids, relationships, counseling, bosses, GPS, trapeze class, taxi drivers, counseling, bitterness, first grade, summer vacation, and counseling. It was well rounded. One of my happier moments of the day was finding a bottle of red wine vinegar in the cupboard which I started yesterday to worry over (thinking I had none). I was going to barter with my neighbors for 2 tablespoons of the stuff for a Zip-loc of chocolate chip peanut butter cookies. I am not the type to not know my neighbors. I borrow too many eggs.

The Woman in Sunshine

I have done some interesting things this week. Here are a few of them. I made chicken and hominy soup. It is corny and hot-ish and liquid. Perfect for summer you say, shaking your head. I have eaten it every day with these chocolately cherry cookies. I explained to someone who Almanzo James Wilder is. Tonight I toppled a full bowl on warm soup on my person. The carpet will not recover. The clothes were removed and replaced. Drip dry. Reviewed the film Becoming Jane with the expected apprehension which was grounded (not being rooted in fact, concern for the actors, etc). Blindly, I enjoy all period pieces. Called a woman Grace whose name was indeed Frances. I blame the era these names were à la mode. I wore goggles for the second time this summer in the attempt to become a champion swimmer. I happened upon this fitting poem and knew it should be passed on.

The Woman in Sunshine
Wallace Stevens

It is only that this warmth and movement are like
The warmth and movement of a woman.

It is not that there is any image in the air
Nor the beginning nor end of a form:

It is empty. But a woman in threadless gold
Burns us with brushings of her dress

And a dissociated abundance of being,
More definite for what she is—

Because she is disembodied,
Bearing the odors of the summer fields,

Confessing the taciturn and yet indifferent,
Invisibly clear, the only love.

Outfoxing the Hounds

Last night I returned from puppy sitting for ten days. The home was not far from me but you know a change of environment is always a destination. There were eight pooches plus their mother (who I will expose was no help at all). Three brown, three yellow, and two black laboradors. I know next to nothing about this breed, least of all how to spell it. I found the brown ones visually appealing. One of the browns had an asthmatic rumble that I took to. The mother was a loon who lived for ball playing and games of this sort. I welcome lightheartedness in spurts but found the incessant demands obtrusive and wearing. When one is coralling, sweeping, hosing, resisting mutinous escapes by the deckhands, or in other ways doing one's duty, the last thing said person wishes for is to be barked at. The puppies were a pack of swarming bees when I entered their part of the house/yard. We got along though they progressed to eating my shoes, toes, and clothing within reach. With the young, all is forgiven.



While ignoring the barking requests for another round of Take Me Out to the Ballgame, I picked white nectarines, tomatoes, eggplant, basil, and smelled mint. The figs and red grapes did not ripen in time for me to enjoy them.

I performed hundreds of back and front dives and even used goggles one day to look under the surface. It was a pastoral region and peaceful.

Fish Eyes

On my mission in the city of Dijon we dwelt in peace and laughter. The missionaries and the members both. There was a missionary from Florida who was quite the funny bone. He didn't try to be. One day we left the chapel and hopped on the bus adjacent to return to town. We were discussing caviar and he expressed much distaste. He winced and told us he couldn't understand why people would eat fish eyes. Hilarity ensued.

This recipe is for all you standing there with an eggplant in hand, wondering what to do with it.

Yesterday I made the elegant eggplant caviar from The New Basics Cookbook by Rosso and Lukins. Some of you are attached at the hip to The Silver Palate (SP) and would benefit by this publication as well. As you know I just returned from the wild west and was presented with the 25th anniversary edition of the SP. The publisher and authors have outdone themselves. Charming color imagery and the feel is still home. Most of the kooky line drawings are gone but I don't hold them hostage. It's a beaut so if you don't own the first, choose this one. I read the review of it in Saveur today and was moved. It is a lovely tribute.

I wouldn't choose the title caviar for this dish if I ate it blindfolded. Perhaps the nuts crunch like fish eggs. Your guess is as good as mine. I would mince the onion smaller and chop the walnuts finer. I overdid the lemon juice for which I'm patting my own back. Who among us is there who doesn't love an eggplant?

Note to the wise: I shun the microwave daily. This recipe is labeled with an alarming lightning bolt to signify the method of cookery. I plowed ahead. It is a quick and easy way to deal with the eggplant. Who doesn't want to see an eggplant collapse?

Elegant Eggplant Caviar

Serve on the end of crisp Belgian endive leaves, atop soft scrambled eggs, or spread on grilled peasant bread toast. (I spread it on the round sesame crackers from TJs.)

1 eggplant
1/2 C walnut pieces
1/4 C minced onion
1/4 C minced fresh parsley (I used dried flakes)
1 to 2 teaspoons minced hot finger chile pepper, depending on taste (I used red pepper flakes)
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 t salt
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
2 T extra virgin olive oil
1 T fresh lemon juice

Prick the eggplant in several places with a fork. Place it on a microwave-safe dish and cook at full power, uncovered, until soft and collapsed, 10 minutes. Set it aside to cool.

Arrange the walnut pieces on another microwave-safe dish and cook, uncovered, until fragrant and toasted, 2 1/2 minutes. Chop fine.

Scrape the eggplant flesh into a wooden chopping bowl and coarsely chop.

Stir in the walnuts, onion, parsley, chile pepper, garlic, salt, and pepper. Then slowly beat in the oil and lemon juice. Adjust the seasonings if necessary.

Cover loosely and let stand at room temperature for several hours before serving.

1 1/2 cups
The New Basics Cookbook

Summer Sun

by Robert Louis Stevenson
A Child's Garden of Verses

Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven without repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.

Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden around,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among the ivy's inmost nook.

Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.

We celebrated the fourth with a community pancake breakfast, homemade hamburger buns, blue cheese burger, sautéed onions, and an evening fireworks party at Fawn's. The summer sun shone bright in this desert. The buns raised in record time.



Fawn's balcony lends onto the city center where the taxpayer's contribute to a show of fire. We enjoyed root beer floats, were regaled by stories of Turkey and travel, and father was jovial. He complemented my teeth twice. This land is your land, this land is my land.