A Week Off

I'm off to Fallbrook for the week.

Leaving you with some roses from the garden, and a few of my favorite things.

Cheers!

A Wedding Day

We were at a wedding on Saturday.  James was the ring bearer.  He looked downright handsome in his suit.  I just love him that lilac tie. 

My niece, Cora, was the flower girl.  She was absolutely beautiful.
Of course I have a bias, but together, they nearly stole the show.
I love weddings.  Everything is so beautiful.  Every where you look some lovely thing looks back at you.  The flowers, the favors, the thoughtful details that make each wedding day unique.
And then there is the bride; she is the embodiment of loveliness.

But aside from these things, and even the people, that make up a wedding, it is the emotion, the love and the joy that make weddings so beautiful.  There are a lot of tears at weddings.  There are sweet tears, like the father of the bride wiping his daughter's cheeks and then his own.  There are happy tears, like the groom who is overcome by the sight of his bride walking down the aisle and smiles, with his eyes glistening.  There are many moments in a wedding that are so loaded with emotion it seems they should be private.  Instead, they are shared.  And we are all touched in some real way by being a part of it.

Like every other, there were many such moments at this wedding.  Here are a few of my favorites.

The toasts.   2 of the toasts at this wedding were 2 of the sweetest toasts I have ever heard. They were delivered by these fellows, brothers to the bride and groom.

In these toasts, things were said, that as a parent, you dream your children will say about one another.  The kinds of things  you hope your sibling will say about you.  There was talk of looking up to an older brother, of learning from him.  Talk of a sister who is a best friend, and some joking that a big brother must do at his little sister's expense. The best thing about the toasts is that they were real.  Not rehearsed or staged, but full of real love and real emotion, shared from hearts overflowing with joy for their siblings.  

The Father daughter dance.  I can't ever make it through a wedding without catching some glimpse of the bride and her dad and my eyes filling with tears.  I remember my own wedding day; my dad whispering, "slow down," as we walked down the aisle.  I imagine my own daughter and her Daddy, walking down that aisle together.  It is the knowledge of a relationship that has reached it's fulfillment, and the beauty of that.  

I loved Nicole and Hal's father daughter dance.  They danced to "Once Upon a Dream" of Sleeping Beauty fame.  Their dancing was beautiful and the song was just right.  It fit perfectly. After all, shouldn't her Daddy be a girl's first prince? 

The Surprise.  As the evening and the dancing went on, the groom had a surprise for his bride. With his groomsmen gathered behind him, Matt sang to Nicole.  He sang, "I'm Gonna Be" by the Proclaimers.  Everyone loved it.  Everyone loved Matt for singing it to Nicole.  The groomsmen provided background vocals.  They were great.  It isn't very often that the groom can sing to the bride and do a good job of it.  But Matt did.  It was funny and dear and charming. It was very sweet.  I think Nicole is a very lucky girl.  She has a man who can make her laugh.

Congratulations Matt and Nicole.  Blessings to you both.

I Love Breakfast

Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day.  It always has been.  I remember reading the Laura Ingalls Wilder books and her descriptions of breakfast always made me want to get up early and make a big breakfast.  Alas, my Mom can think of few things worse than dirtying her kitchen at the start of the day, so it didn't happen often.  But I still read cookbooks like novels and while I read all the recipes, it was the breakfast ones that appealed to me the most.

One of them, I think it was melba toast, sounded so good.  It was old fashioned and I really wanted to try it. My Mom warned me I wouldn't like it.  She was right.  Soggy toast isn't my favorite.  But I didn't let that stop me.  I still loved breakfast.  I would choose going out to breakfast over going out to dinner.  I would much rather eat a family breakfast than a family dinner.  Maybe it's because every thing is fresh in the morning.  The day is ripe with possibilities.  It feels like a luxurious way to start the day--lingering over a real breakfast rather than wolfing down a bowl of cereal on your way out the door.  It feels good to be together and enjoy good food at the start of the day.  

I don't do a fancy breakfast.  Of maybe I just don't do a traditional breakfast.  No bacon, eggs and pancakes.  I try to keep it pretty simple.  I model it after a breakfast Aaron and I had in Sienna, Italy.  It was, perhaps, the best breakfast I've ever had.  

We were staying at a bed and breakfast called Frances Lodge.  Frances and her husband, Franco, served us breakfast on their patio overlooking Sienna and the hills of Tuscany.  That makes it pretty fantastic right there.  But the food, oh the food.  A baguette, fresh from a bakery in town.  A soft boiled egg, from Frances' chickens.  And you wonder why I want to have chickens.  Butter, "from the farm on that hill over there."  Honey, "the lavender from that farm over there, the lemon from that farm and the rose from that farm."  Jam, "from my own trees." Olive oil, "from our grove."  Fresh fruit: peaches, plums and nectarines so ripe they drip with each bite.  "Just picked from the orchard."  Strong, hot espresso with rich cream to lighten it up.  And chartrucerie.  What? At breakfast?  It was perfect.  From the butcher in town, who knows the pigs he butchers, and treats them well before and after.  How we lingered over that breakfast.  We wanted it to last forever.  To this day, if one of us mentions breakfast at Frances Lodge, the other will moan.

So my favorite breakfasts are in the summer.  We eat outside on our patio.  No hills of Tuscany to look at, but there are some beautiful roses, an avocado tree and the mud hole.  I serve soft boiled eggs, a baguette, and a bowl of cut, fresh fruit.  We have coffee, iced if the day is already hot.  Sometimes I squeeze fresh orange juice too.  One of the best things about this breakfast is that I am not in the kitchen cooking a whole batch of pancakes and then trying to keep them warm so we can all eat together, or eating a cold one after everyone else is done.  It is simple and delicious.

That breakfast is my favorite, but there are other things I like to serve, and eat, for breakfast. Here they are:

A bowl of Greek yogurt with fresh fruit and honey

Hot from the oven muffins--more work, I know, but I pretty much feel like the world's best Mom when I get up early to make muffins for my family.

Stove top oatmeal with nuts, dried fruit, brown sugar and cinnamon

Scrambled eggs with tomatoes, zucchini, mushrooms, or peppers.  It takes less than 5 extra minutes to add veggies to the eggs and it adds so much flavor.  I love vegetables at breakfast.

Fried potatoes made using leftover potatoes from dinner the night before.  All you have to do is heat them in a little olive oil with a diced onion.

A bowl of homemade granola.  Make it the night before--it takes 15 minutes.

And always, coffee.  Espresso made in the stove top espresso maker we got in Italy.  So simple and it makes the best coffee.

Tomorrow is Saturday, and while we'll be up early and rushing off to a wedding, I'll be dreaming of a leisurely breakfast.  What will you be having?

    

A Poem For You Today

The Swing

by Robert Louis Stevenson

How do you like to go up in a swing,

Up in the air so blue?

"Oh I do think it the pleasantest thing

Ever a child could do!"
"Up in the air and over the wall

Till I can see so wide

Rivers and trees and cattle and all

Over the countryside--"

"Till I look down on the garden green

Down on the roof so brown--

Up in the air I go flying again,

Up in the air and down!"

I have been thinking a lot about poetry lately.  I don't read it often enough anymore.  Being a lit major and then an English teacher, poetry used to be a part of my daily existence.  There are times when a poem captures, with such an economy of words, exactly how I feel.  I don't have the gift of poetry--no economy of words around here.  (my thank you cards, or notes of any sort, are actually kind of a joke because I write so much)  I love the rhythm, the music, of poetry. I love how many poems are very simple, yet hold such depth of meaning.  More than anything, I love that each word in a poem matters.  It has been much thought upon and put in just the right place to create just the right sound or picture. Poems stick with you in a different way than stories do.  I think a beautiful poem is a gift.

This poem, The Swing, for example.  I read this poem often as a child.  It was in a book of poems that we had on our bookshelf.  I liked the illustrations in the book and I liked the different kids of poems it had in it.  I could relate to the child on that swing.  I loved the sound of that poem in my ears.  I never intended to memorize it, yet I did.  It became a part of some dear memories:  that book, those illustrations, and of course, that feeling you get as a child when you go "up in the air and down again". 

I still know the words of that poem and think of it every time I push my babies on the swing.  I would imagine that they too will someday know the words to this poem.  I hope to endow them with the words to many others.  

We read many sorts of  poems.  They often like the silly ones, but it is foolish to think that a child can only read  children's poetry.  While they may not explore the deeper meanings of William Blake's, The Tyger, there is no reason they cannot enjoy this poem at whatever level they are at now.  James and William both like that poem.  They enjoy the image of the tiger  and how fierce he sounds. At some point in time, we will explore the questions Blake is asking about God in that poem: " did He who made the lamb make thee?"  Until that time, we listen to the music of the words and ask, "what's an anvil?"

I'm ready for poetry to become a part of my daily existence again.  I'll share some with you.

Hand Made Pizza Dough Attempt # 1

Few things give me a greater sense of satisfaction than cooking by hand.  To me, cooking by hand means soaking my beans and cooking them slowly all day long instead of opening a can. It means measuring out the flour and sugar for cupcakes instead of opening a box.  It means frosting that tastes a million times better than anything you'll ever get from a tub.  Handmade can be as simple as a bowl of fresh cut fruit to spoon on top of our yogurt.  Or as elaborate as ratatouille, with all the peeling, chopping, cutting, broiling, steaming and cooking that recipe involves. Whatever it is, I'd much prefer to make it by hand.  

Sometimes cooking by hand works out wonderfully.  Other times, the results are less that perfect.  I know that cooking requires time and often multiple attempts to get it right.  Still, I struggle with the less than perfect results because I have 3 little ones under foot, and time spent in the kitchen trying out new recipes is not easy to come by.  It means someone should probably be sleeping, and the other 2 happily occupied with play or helping me.  If it is a new recipe, the helping me part doesn't always work out so well--for me or the end result.  But I digress.  

Yesterday was one of those days when I wanted to try something new.  Pizza dough was it, I decided.  Usually I buy my dough from Trader Joe's.  it's whole wheat, it's cheap, it's fast and it's good.  Who could ask for more?  Me.  I just wanted to do it myself.  So I checked out some of my favorite blogs, sure that one of my blogging pals would have the perfect recipe.  No one did. Hmm.  Instead, I just found one that looked easy, fast and had good reviews and gave it a whirl. Literally, I gave it a whirl in the food processor.  Which I don't recommend, by the way.  Next time I'll mix entirely by hand.  Still the process felt good.  I love the smell of yeast.  The feel of dough in my hands and the simple happiness I feel when I set the dough to rising in a bowl. 
I was feeling so giddy from my handmade pizza dough, that I decided to try another new recipe. I am reading The Art of Simple Food, by Alive Waters.  It is a great cookbook.  Her recipe for Salsa Verde sounded so good I had to try it.  Besides, I have a lot of Italian parsley growing in the garden right now.  I made it outside, on the picnic table, so I could watch Lilly play on the slip and slide with her brothers. (see what I mean about distractions?)  Luckily this is a very easy recipe, so there were no problems.

A little bit later, I called my dripping kids to the picnic table for handmade pizza and salsa verde.  As is our way in the summer, more than 1/2 the group was nearly naked and the meal was accompanied by fruit fresh from the farmer's market.  I love summertime meals.
The pizza dough was not that great.  It was a little tough.  Maybe it was the whole wheat flour I used.  Or the food processor.  I have already researched some new recipes that I will be trying. Maybe tonight.  

The Salsa Verde, however, was fantastic.  I mean, really, really good.  It was wonderful on the pizza.  And so easy.  It was a nice change of pace from basil pesto, or tomato based bruschetta, which is what we usually have.  I will be making this again.  I wonder if I can freeze it like pesto?  More research. 
No pizza dough recipes today, but try the Salsa Verde.  You won't be disappointed.

Salsa Verde  (adapted from Alice Waters' The Art of Simple Food)

Combine in a small bowl:

1/3 cup coarsely chopped parsley (leaves and thin stems only)

Grated zest of one lemon

1 small garlic clove, chopped very fine or pounded into a puree

1 tablespoon capers, rinsed, drained and coarsely chopped

1/2 teaspoon salt

Fresh ground black pepper to taste

1/2 cup olive oil

Mix well and taste for salt.  Let sauce sit a while to develop flavors.

Notes: Here are some things I changed to suit my tastes.  

I used 1/2 a clove of garlic.  It still had that nice garlic bite, but wasn't overwhelming.  Actually, the kids thought it was, but what do they know?

Also, I don't have a mortar and pestle to make the garlic paste.  But I remembered reading somewhere, that if you chop the garlic fine, sprinkle it with coarse salt and rub, you get a paste. I tried it and it worked great.  This means you don't have to add any more salt to the salsa.  

I also added a few squeezes of lemon juice for brightness.

Lastly, I ended up dumping the salsa into the food processor and giving it a few whirls.  I wanted the consistency to be more of a paste, a bit like pesto, but a little bit more coarse.

One last thing.  After all my feeling of happiness and serenity as I used my hands to make dinner for my family, what the boys ate mostly was bread and olive oil.  William, not really a fan of pizza anyway, ate 3 bites.  James ate a whole piece, but was unimpressed by the squash I added to the cheese.  They both declared the salsa "toooo spicy!"  Oh well, you win some and you loose some.  The important thing to remember is to never give up.

Lilly ate 3 pieces.  I love that girl.