Food binds us together--a weekend of wonderful food, family and friends

Jacob with Charyl at the Old Neighborhood Grill--she sees him coming and says, "Grilled cheese. No pickles."


Texas author James Ward Lee, sometimes called the grandfather of Texas literature, once wrote, "The foods we eat, the way we eat them, and the imagination we bestow upon their preparation will tell [much about us] to historians, folklorists, and anthropologists of Buck Rogers's twenty-fifth century." (Quote in the jacket copy to Eats: A Folk History of Texas Foods, by Ernestine Sewell Linck and Joyce Gibson Roach.) I was privileged to be part of the editing and promotion of that book, and Jim's words long stayed with me. I thought of them this weekend, which was filled with food, family and friends.
On Friday night, friends organized a food and fellowship gathering at the Kimbell Museum--where the food is always good although ordering at the buffet counter is a bit puzzling sometimes. It was a time to see friends I hadn't seen in a while as well as some I see frequently. And it was lots of fun. Low key, no program except some background music--a real chance to visit with the like-minded.
Meanwhile, Jacob was having cooking lessons which is good--we want him to grow up in the
cooking tradition of his family. Jay, my good-looking neighbor, took Jacob to the Grill for supper and then home, where they made red sauce for the next night's lasagna. Jacob chopped onion and garlic and learned to curl his fingers under so he didn't chop them; he sautéed tomato paste and learned to tuck his shirttail in when around open flames. He came home high on excitement for what he'd accomplished, and the next night modestly accepted praise for his part in the dinner.
Our Valentines party was an Italian night. Jordan brought home several bottles of chianti from her Italian trip this fall, so we had antipasto, lasagna, salad, gelato--and, oh yes,
chocolate truffles! Lots of laughter.

Antipasto is one of my favorite ways to entertain--with Jordan's help, I loaded one tray with salami, cheese, smoked salmon, and a small bowl of banana peppers. Another tray held vegetables--artichoke hearts, cut up hearts of palm, cherry tomatoes, olives, baby ears of corn. In some cases that's an easy meal. I felt sophisticated when I asked the deli guy for capicola--it's the only salami I know by name!

Finally this morning the third graders at church received their Bibles as part of the service. Jacob's other grandparents and I were in attendance to beam with pride. He was pretty happy and proud himself when he came back to the pew with a children's version of the Modern English Bible. (I secretly hoped for the King James version but it would have baffled him!)

Then of course we had to celebrate--more antipasto, a Mexican casserole, and a huge salad--new recipe I found on High Made Foods for Fiesta Salad and dressing. I never put sugar in salad dressing, but this was really good.
So tonight it's back to half a tuna salad sandwich. Monday and Tuesday are supposed to be the kind of days when you want to stay in, and I will eat modestly--very modestly. There's that six lbs. I gained over the holidays! But what a great weekend.
Yes, food binds us in fellowship, and as I said to someone recently, "If I'm not writing, I'm cooking."

Oh, frabjulous day!

For a writer in these modern days, being without a computer is like a chef being without a stove or a painter being without a brush or charcoal. My computer simply didn't boot yesterday morning--it acted like all was fine, took my password, and then did nothing more. Son-in-law in Austin did what he could over the phone but it didn't work. So I took the computer to Staples, where I was both impressed by the thoroughness of their check-in process and frustrated by the time I stood there. But I left, sans computer, and went to the grocery store.
Then I was home, wondering what to do. I have an iPad and I could answer email and sort of follow Facebook. But it's not easy for me to be as fluent on an iPad keyboard--I am much more conversational on a keyboard. And I had a chapter in my head--or at least a scene--that I wanted to write on my novel-in-progress. I can't tell you how many times I jiggled the mouse, trying to wake my computer. Of course, I was staring at a blank remote screen because there was no computer attached to it. Very frustrating. As I told probably too many people, I was like an addict in withdrawal, and even my daughter worried about what I would do in the evening. No worries, I'm in the midst of reading The Mockingbird Next Door, but there were still emails I wanted to answer more fully, Facebook exploring I wanted to do, and that scene that was playing out in my head.
Today I had several helpful phone calls from the Staples technician, a really nice man named Sean. We established, to his disbelief, that I didn't have an original form of Microsoft Office--it came on the computer which is less than a year old. He told me it was a virus, but he would have it fixed soon.
About five-fifteen he called and said it was ready to go. I said I'd be in tomorrow, though I really wanted it right that minute. But I was having a glass of wine with Jordan and Jay and didn't feel I should jump in the car. Jordan said she'd take me, and off we went. (Jordan wants credit as #1 daughter for this--sorry, Megan; I know you'd have done it if you were closer.)
So tonight I even put dinner off for an hour while I caught up with calendar dates I'd made a note of, password changes,  59 emails, and all that stuff.
And now I'm a really happy camper. Many thanks to Staples and Sean for quick, fast, and efficient services. Amazing what a difference that has made in my outlook on life!

The solar system, a great dog, and a hectic evening

It was hectic at my house tonight, but the afternoon started out calmly. Jacob brought his latest project--the solar system--home. I had seen it before but he painstakingly explained it to me, describing each of the planets and some of their remarkable statistics. Truthfully, I was pretty impressed--it's a good presentation. He got 100 on the project, and 100 on his presentation. Kudos to his dad who helped and who, thank goodness, is good at this kind of thing. Homework was a different matter--his class had moved on to the geography of South America, and it was hard for him. They provide a small map, but we ended up using Google; still we were both frustrated. His mom arrived and in minutes they finished what Jacob and I had labored over for a half hour. She tells me I'm too intense and should not sit by his elbow while he does homework--but shoot! Truth is he sits by my elbow, and yes, I probably do give too much help. I'm reforming. I admit I got in a snit about homework, cooking, and conviviality, but I recovered my good disposition. Think I'm tired.
Then the evening got hectic--Jay, Subie, and Phil arrived, ready to try the new TV and move furniture. Big problem: TV didn't arrive, and we learned it's backordered until early March. But they all moved furniture, measured, and we got a new sectional ordered for the "sunroom"--that's what I'm going to insist people call it. During all this I was making a double batch of my version of sloppy Joe, and occasionally stopping to sit and sip wine when my opinion was called for. The couch has been ordered--tan, but we will put lots of bright pillows and throws on it.
Subie, who hates sloppy Joe and will not eat it, liked mine. In fact, I think she had two helpings--just not on a bun. She and Jordan ate theirs in a bowl. I loved mine and look forward to the leftovers. Everybody else seemed quite content--Jacob followed his sloppy Joe with a peanut butter/jelly chaser.
Phil comes accompanied by Santiago, his seeing eye dog, who is one of the sweetest dogs I've ever known. He is nine years old and more than ready to retire, but Jacob loves him. Sophie loves him too, though she gets a bit jealous at times, and Santiago does try to eat her food. He's also a bad counter surfer, and we watch that nothing is where he can get it. A big lab, he's easily able to reach up and steal food.
Everyone was gone by seven-thirty (having arrived at four-thirty), and I did the dishes (not much to do since others had gotten a huge start on it) and settled down for a quiet evening. Whoosh!
 

The vegetable challenged

Sometimes it seems like I am surrounded by vegetable-challenged people. My two sons-in-law are the worst offenders, with a long list of vegetables (and other foods, like tuna salad) they won't try. Megan, who was vegetable averse as a child, eats almost any vegetable, and Jordan is getting much better, eats asparagus but still no spinach. Jacob adores broccoli but isn't adventuresome about many other vegetables.
Last week my neighbor, Jay, announced he was NOT eating cabbage. The only vegetables that I can think of that I won't eat are parsnips (my dad loved them, not sure I ever tasted them) and okra (it's a texture thing). But I love most vegetables--including spinach, turnips, and eggplant. Okay, I don't much like turnip greens but love raw mustard greens in a salad and steamed beet greens.
Tonight I fixed a cabbage casserole. When I announced that a few days ago, Jay said he had decided he had to "man up" and try it. Actually it's much like stuffed cabbage but without all the work. I once or twice fixed original stuffed cabbage where you soften the leaves in hot water, stuff and roll. Got the recipe from someone who grew up with that cuisine--eastern European. My younger son really liked it, and I found a recipe where you stuff a whole head of cabbage, hollowed out, and serve it in wedges. Made that several times because it was easier.
But this casserole was really easy and has the same ingredients: ground beef, chopped cabbage, chopped onion, rice, and tomato juice. Because the first time I made real stuffed cabbage, I was told to use lamb, I substituted it for beef tonight. Even Jay said it was good, and he'd eat it again. I worried about a side since the main dish had all the food groups, but I had broccoli and cauliflower left in the fridge, and I cut them into sizeable pieces and roasted them together with olive oil and a bit of white balsamic vinegar. Good meal, if I do say so--and hearty.
After dinner we sat around talking about the Kardashians and Bruce Jenner--I couldn't believe the conversation at my dinner table had gotten so trite (and boring!). Then, poof! everybody had to rush off to get home in time for "Downton Abbey." I threatened I might never cook for them again, and they said I should just cook earlier. Are they spoiled or what?
Of course I'll cook again--tomorrow night. I'm making my version of sloppy Joe while Jay and Jordan move furniture and unpack the new TV which is to arrive tomorrow. Jay invited Phil and Subie to join us, but Subie said she had an absolute aversion to sloppy Joe because when her mother made it, it had all that orange grease on it. I told her (repeatedly) that this recipe is really a wine casserole, and I just call it sloppy Joe. She finally allowed that she might come, especially when I reminded her there would be leftover cabbage casserole. See? I really am surrounded by picky eaters--need to find new guinea pigs.

Lovely, lazy day

Today was one of those days that rarely happen to any of us over the age of, say, fifteen. I woke up knowing there was not one darn thing I absolutely had to do today. In fact, the world wouldn't fall apart if I stayed in bed all day. I didn't, but I slept late for me (7:45) and lounged through the morning with email, Facebook, and the skimpy Saturday newspaper. It was 10:45 by the time I had done my yoga, made the bed, and straightened the house a bit.
Spent the rest of the day doing what I wanted--reading edits at the computer, checking email, doing a little more on my taxes, and taking a good long nap. In fact, I woke up because Jacob was standing over me, poking me. Once again, I would tell you I only dozed because Sophie was enraged by something off and on, but I sure didn't hear Jacob and his dad come in. By the time he wakened me, he said he'd been here twenty minutes. We roughhoused with the dog on the bed (against my rules but I didn't feel like complaining), and I finally got going.
The day itself was beautiful--sunny, 70+ temperature, and gorgeous. I watered porch plants and saw the damage my laziness during cold weather had caused. Some will come back, others won't. Yes, it was a crime to be inside on the first gorgeous day in a while, but I was doing what I wanted to do--and that's a real luxury. Jacob and his parents went bike-riding and walked over the "really cool" new pedestrian bridge over the river. Tonight my mysterious neighbor seems to be having an outdoor party--tiki lights blazing in the backyard. Every once in a while I turn and stare at them--love those brilliant but controlled flames.
Even my meals were my favorites today--tuna sandwich, a dab of sweet potato salad and another dab of hummus, and sliced cucumber for lunch. For supper, Jacob and I had breakfast--scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. He's busy at his iPad, and I'm back to my computer.
The kind of day to thank the Lord for--peaceful, happy, and fulfilling. Now I'm off to write 1000 words on the work in progress (I hope).

Fine food

I started to title this "Eating High on the Hog" but that doesn't do justice to the two meals I had in the last two days. I was eating sophisticated food, and I loved it. I have a reputation among some friends for eating things most people wouldn't touch. For instance, I love the tongue sandwiches at the local deli, along with the chopped chicken liver and, occasionally, pickled herring. I grew up eating fried kidneys, though I haven't had them in years--you can't buy two any more, have to buy a whole case (I only wanted to see if I still liked them!).
My restaurant-exploring friend Betty and I had dinner at Sera last night and shared a chaucuterie platter of whiskey smoked salmon, duck prosciutto, and duck liver mousse with an arugula, marinated onion, and pepper salad and marinated okra (one thing I don't eat--Betty got all the okra). I could have eaten fourteen helpings of the mousse (and felt awful afterword)--it truly was wonderful. We each order a black Caesar salad--an unusual mixture of kale, butternut squash, white anchovies, black garlic (I have no idea what that is), and a light vinaigrette. A lovely meal.

Today at lunch, my former colleague Melinda and I went to Nonna Tata (sorry for those of you out of Fort Worth if these references don't mean much), and I had the bresaola platter--bresaola is the beef version of prosciutto, served on greens, garnished with thin slices of Grana cheese, and dressed with lemon and olive oil. It's served with a vinegar-dressed potato salad. Absolutely delicious. Our server bribed us to change tables by promising dessert--I brought home the darkest chocolate mousse I've ever seen. Jacob took one look and announced, "I don't like it." So I ate half--too rich to eat the whole thing at once.
One night before these delicious meals, I had a chicken-friend pork cutlet with cream gravy, black-eyed peas, and salad. Delicious too, but heavy, and I felt sluggish the next morning and decided to eat light for the next few days. The meals above were light because they were presented in European quantities--not the huge servings we Americans have come to expect. Also there was nothing fried.
I'm not sure if it's the lighter dining or the experience of two really fine meals, but my disposition is brighter than it has been in several days. There's a lesson to be learned there. Back to my standard tuna fish salad.

Leggings and restaurant sanitation

If you follow Facebook, and maybe if you don't, you may know about the youngish woman who forswore ever wearing leggings again, out of respect to her husband and to avoid arousing lust in other men. Her YouTube video went viral and even made national TV shows. As one who wears leggings a lot, my first thought was that if a mid-seventies woman in leggings arouses lust in men, let them enjoy it.
I read a piece today by a journalist who essentially wrote, "Get real. Get serious about the real problems of life." She quoted a series of horrifying statistics--the number or children left orphaned by ebola, the number of people being starved, tortured and killed in various uprisings, the number of women raped in such uprisings, the number of children in America living below the poverty line, and so on. After each terrible statistic, the journalist wrote, "And you want to talk about leggings?" Powerful stuff.
It reminded me of our busy Republican Congress. They've been working hard at doing--well, let's see what: passing the Keystone Pipeline bill, which the President has already promised to veto and which most sane Americans oppose because of it's enormous pollution potential to the world's environment, America's water supply, our "bread basket," etc. Compassionate fellows they are, they have voted to slash Medicare, Medicaid, and Social Security benefits plus knock many children off their parents' health insurance. Oh, and let's not forget they are on the 50+ vote to repeal the ACA. Not fast learners. In their wisdom--or is it greed--they have voted to sell vast lands owned by the Apache tribe to a foreign corporation--these lands are pristine and absolutely gorgeous with rock canyons, etc., the best of America's Southwest, not to mention that they are sacred to the Apaches--and, I believe, granted to them by treaty. But we won't let a little thing like a treaty bother us.  Speaker Boehner is again threatening to sue President Obama--can't remember what for this time, but I know that eats up taxpayers' dollars at a fantastic rate. The House is waffling on the question of mandatory vaccines--many of them are old enough, as I am, to  have lived through the terrors of the polio epidemic and surely they all know about the 1918 influenza epidemic. And they're waffling?
And the latest idea I like, from a Republican senator who, trying to make a point about too much government control, suggests that we allow restaurants to opt out of the law to make employees wash their hands after using the bathroom and before returning to work. There'd be a whole lot of restaurants I wouldn't be eating at! But of course we can't allow women to opt out of laws that rob them of control over their own bodies.
What a mess this country is in. Want to talk about leggings?

A new book from Harper Lee

Few things could have jolted me out of the funk I've been in like the news that Harper Lee will publish a new book, written before the classic To Kill a Mockingbird. The new novel, Go Set a Watchman, was actually written before. Lee submitted it to an agent, who requested that she re-write, making it from a young Scout's point of view. She did, and the rest is history. Her talent for painting the picture of a small Alabama town during the days of segregation is beyond remarkable. We walk those dusty streets with Scout, and with her we watch Atticus during trials. The books has an immediacy that few have. At the same time, it delves into social problems, racism being the most obvious. But the treatment of women, the insular life of a small town, the small prejudices all come to the fore. Like many readers world-wide, I thought it was one of the most impressive books I've ever read. And it had a greater impact on me than most.
A few years ago I was asked to sit on a panel discussing the book with several local people. I re-read the book and watched the movie. The book was even more powerful to me, and so was the movie. Some scenes were already clear in my mind--Atticus shooting the rabid dog, Atticus in the courtroom. But I was amazed at how far cinematography has come since the '60s. Still I loved every minute of it. The moderator of the panel was Bob Ray Sanders, a black local journalist and good friend. He asked me how, growing up in Chicago, I felt about black people, and I confessed that I was afraid of them. Bob Ray thanked me for the courage to answer truthfully. Not long after that session, I found Mockingbird on my oldest granddaughter's bedside table (I was temporarily occupying her room). I was crushed when I asked how she liked it, and she replied she thought it was boring. The book is required reading for something like 70% of high school students--perhaps that's a mistake; perhaps it's too soon. They can't appreciate the social problems because in this day they see them as solved, although racism is still a vital issue (proven by negative reaction to our president).
News of the forthcoming book--which I will read ASAP--sent me to the book I've been meaning to read: The Mockingbird Next Door, by Marja Mills, a journalist who, with the blessing of Harper Lee and her older sister Alice, moved next door to the ladies and wrote their story. Mills says Harper wanted to call it "Having Their Say" in spite of the fact that the title had already been used for the popular memoir/biography of the Delaney sisters, two ninety-ish black sisters who lived together in New York all their lives. I haven't gotten much beyond the opening, but I'm looking forward to reading it.
And I plan to be in attendance when my church reading group discusses Mockingbird week after next. It's been a good day for bibliophiles, especially students and devotees of American literature.
 

Redecorating blues

My current couch--recover? replace? forget it?

 

I have lived in my house twenty years, seen four children grow and leave home, and welcomed seven grandchildren. In that process, my furniture has taken a beating--I swear I never let my kids jump on couches and beds but some of my grandchildren seem to think that's what they're there for. Inertia has held me back--I couldn't get a fabric I like as well for the living room couch, those barrel chairs are a little worn but not bad, it would cost too much.
A couple of factors got me thinking about sprucing up the house. The grandchildren no longer need a playroom--their play is not stuffed toys and a huge hobby horse and things like that--we sold most of it at the last of Jordan's garage sales (oh, how I wish it were the last but I guess I meant most recent). I did hang on to a trike that is at least 80 years old and obviously repainted with loving hands. It has a huge hole in the solid rubber front tire--I can still hear three-year-old Maddie when she looked down and said, "There's a hole in my tire," drawing out the word hole in dramatic fashion. It was given to me by dear friends, now gone, when their grandchildren outgrew it but it had belonged to the grandfather and probably someone before him. Sentimental value. Meantime, my grandchildren's idea of toys is mostly iPads and X-Box or at least cell phone.
At the same time, my grown kids said if I want them to visit often, I need a place for them to hang out (I am blessed that they always want to be together whenever possible), so I'm converting the playroom into a sunroom--it gets marvelous sun all day long and much of the year is downright hot in the late afternoon. Eleven-year-old Eden (who is going to be a designer, architect or fashionista--I don't know which) did drawings, and she was the one who envisioned a 45" TV (ordered and to be delivered Monday) in the middle of the bookcase, a couch across from it, and comfortable chairs. Plus we'd take the doors off the storage area below, add adjustable shelves, and showcase the collection of my own books that are now tumbled in there. This would seat eight or more, and for the overflow, there's a round oak table with four sturdy chairs and a few straight chairs with cane seats--hard to protect from children.
The first plan was for a sectional which sounded fine until I started looking at sectionals--I wanted something bright until I figured out a red sectional would overwhelm the room. Since I hate shopping I did all my browsing online. I decided if  I was updating the look, I should have the living room couch reupholstered. Today Jacob suggested putting the current couch back there and buying a new one. We decided it sounded good, but we already have one objection already--the current couch isn't comfortable and we should stick with sectional.
Then my neighbor said the only way to do things was to empty the living room and start over--rearrange but not discarding. I sort of like the way my living room is arranged right now. Truly, my head is spinning.

Strangely out of sorts

Whine, whine, wine. I've had a wonderful weekend with my family--lots of laughter, silliness, loudness, and a few deep discussions--mostly about how to rearrange my house. The kids ran and played and ate and complained, and it was like any family get-together. The first group left about nine, and the others in a flurry about noon. I fixed brunch, we sat and talked some more, and then they were gone, leaving behind what looked like a messy kitchen but actually took about fifteen minutes to clean and straighten. I caught up on my computer, read the paper, read my book, and napped. Dinner was leftover chicken-fried steak, not as good as last night but still good, and two small slices of roast cabbage. All good.
But now, a long evening stretches before me, and I'm not sure what to do. I don't want to work, but the book I'd been so anxious to get back to in quiet moments isn't quite doing it. Big project for the week is organizing my 2014 tax information but who wants to do that on a Sunday night? (I may sort the stack of papers as a start). No, I'm not a football fan and am not turning on the SuperBowl. Will just be glad when it's over, though I do love this year's Budweiser ad.
Inside and outside, the world seems darker and chillier to me, and my old house seems to creak more. Sophie, who is my barometer, was completely content to sleep in the office all afternoon, so I guess the creaks and cold are my imagination.
Wonder why this mood has come upon me--no doubt, you've had it too. I guess I got wrapped up last week in preparing for the weekend and then all weekend I was either busy or snatching a moment of quiet. And now that I have all the quiet and more, I feel let down.
What's your solution to a mild case of the blues? Guess I'll have a glass of wine and try the book again. Tomorrow, back to business.