Obviously not a professional job
but, hey!, it was so good!
Color me proud. This is my first attempt at working with phyllo. It is not, I don’t think, my first attempt at spanakopita—I remember making it for Jordan and me (the boys in the household won’t eat cooked spinach), but I think I used puff pastry (I just found a picture and, yes, I did use puff pastry before--and may again). This was a lot more work, and obviously it’s not as pretty as the original—a New York Times recipe. But it tasted delicious.
Jordan this morning she’d better enjoy it, and before I could finish the
sentence, she did: “Because we’re never ever having it again because it’s too
much work.” Almost true—it will be a while before I make it again. Last night I
dreamt about making the dish, and this morning I got up and did it, so you know
it’s filled my day. And there were roadblocks—I put 1.5 lbs spinach on the
shopping list, and Jordan brought home 5 oz. So I had to add to my open order
at Central Market and wait till late afternoon for Jordan to pick it up Then I incorporated
the seasoned spinach, which had been cooked with leeks (yes, leeks—I did not,
as is my habit, substitute green onions) and garlic, etc. with the newly cooked
spinach, while trying to preserve the large chunks of feta—cooking is not
was on while I puttered in the kitchen most of the morning—and did my PT
exercises. I find it agonizing to hear the witnesses at the trial of Derek Chauvin
for killing George Floyd, to hear people describe watching a man die, hearing
him call for his mother and plead, “I can’t breathe.” I’m glad I’m not on that
jury, because I could not be impartial.
thing that distresses me—there was a Facebook picture today of a big game
hunter with a high-powered rifle who had killed an elephant in the wild. I am so
angered by these “brave” hunters that I share the pictures on Facebook to
spread their shame (doubt they feel it, but still…..) Trouble is, when I share
it, other people share it and each time they do it shows up again on my
timeline. And I can hardly bear to see that damn picture again. I’m afraid I
have a not-good fate in mind for that hunter.
for the day—a bunch of tulips for my coffee table, which is the only table in
the cottage. My friend Phil was having trouble eating on a tray table the other
night and said maybe he should eat at the table. Phil is visually challenged
and didn’t realize there is no dining table out here, but I will say it is one
thing I miss. I’d love to once again give a dinner party at a real table.
Meantime, tray tables are a better solution than hunching over the coffee
table. I generally eat at my desk, even when there’s company, which doesn’t do
a lot for ambiance. Tomorrow, for the great tuna casserole dinner, we will dine
on tray tables on the patio, providing it’s warm enough.
But I do think my Easter table looks pretty, and I love having flowers in the cottage. I talked to the lawn guy today, and he is going to cut back the rosemary (dead at the tips but green near the ground), cut back the iron plants (same problem), and pull out the fountain grass, which has been a sort of lovely tan arrangement all winter. It’s time to repace it with living grass, and I prefer the purple. The oak-leaf hydrangea have come back nicely, but the Turk’s cap is iffy (gone, I think) and I need to have someone check the lantana. But the redbud is blooming—that’s an essential part of spring for me.
and rebirth and the greening of the world—it makes me cheerful. Even as I fight