Pushing back my boundaries

Yesterday was, for me, a busy day, though ten years ago I’d have probably thought it was an easy day. Jordan, neighbor Mary, and I went to an HEB superstore—really called HEB Plus—some twenty miles away and then out to lunch. I was home long enough to sort of catch up on the day’s emails and make sure all at my desk was in order. Then a quick nap, put together an antipasto try to take to a party, and was off to a small gathering with longtime friends—didn’t get home until after nine, which is late for me to be out. Lesson learned from the day: I rely on my desk time to keep my world in order, and if I’m too long away I feel I’m losing control. I loved everything I did yesterday but always felt sort of out of kilter. Does that make sense, or does it sound like the lunatic ravings of a recluse in the making?

We set out about ten in the morning for HEB. Why go that far for groceries? Because these stores are bigger and offer more than most groceries. Mary pronounced it Central Market only cheaper (they are owned by the same company)—I would add it’s Central Market on steroids. We didn’t actually buy much. The week preceding Christmas is not a good time to shop—none of us planned to cook much at home this week. But I now want to study the recipes I’ve marked to try and go back list in hand. I want to buy some of that delectable fresh bread and study the various salmon cakes. I want to buy fresh gulf oysters and pork that, according to the sign, has no additives, antibiotics, or hormones. Freshly made casserole dinners for two and all manner of fresh salads. Jordan was intrigued by the shredded rotisseries chicken and announced we would soon have chicken enchiladas since she wouldn’t have  to shred the chicken herself. The store has prepared things for the quick cook but an equal offering of basics for those of us who like to do our own preparation.

The evening’s gathering was to be a happy hour with three longtime friends. It turned into a full-fledged meal at which we lingered at the table, exchanging gifts, talking about the holidays, how we came together, and other such. Our hostess served us homemade cauliflower soup with caraway seeds, spiced pumpkin bread, and  a green salad with walnuts and craisins. I planned my antipasto platter for the happy hour several days in advance. I wanted to upgrade the way I serve meat and cheese, piling it in a crowded platter rather than laying out neat slices. I chose salami, mortadella, a  Gouda, and provolone and lightened the platter with tiny tomatoes, baby carrots, cucumber slices, and segments of small sweetie oranges, with a dip of homemade pesto, sour cream and a dab of mayonnaise.

Getting home at 9:30, I barely had time and energy to once again organize my desk, before I fell into bed. This morning I started the day with a list of small chores to be done—and a fresh new haircut. Life is hectic this week, even at my slow pace.

A lazy morning, a lovely evening

Antipasto

Saturday morning, and I was reluctant to get up. Let Sophie out early and headed back to bed, but she is ever quicker than I am, and we disagreed about who should get the warm spot I’d just vacated. I won, and she pouted off to the living room. By 8:30 I was browsing the news but reluctant to face the chores I’d laid out last night—cooking chicken for tomorrow night’s casserole and making a batch of oatmeal/raisin cookie dough, since Jacob said he loves those cookies.

About ten-thirty, I took Jordan to meet a friend to watch the TCU/Baylor game—managed to avoid the traffic jam by going back streets. Some will tell you I’m the queen of back streets in south and west Fort Worth—my preferred routes, which always makes me think of an older friend, many years ago, who tut-tutted at me that a straight line was the shortest distance between two points. She didn’t think about traffic jams and stoplights.

Back home I dug in and spent the rest of the morning doing those chores—by one o’clock I had the kitchen clean, cookie dough and cooked chicken in the fridge, and lunch eaten. Prowled the New York Times Cooking Community Facebook page—what do you say to a woman who begins a post with “I hate hamburger. So bland and tasteless,” and then asks for recipes. I wouldn’t dare make a suggestion. Printed off a full color picture of a charcuterie platter with all  the ingredients labeled—good guide for us sometime, since Jordan and I loved to do those platters. And I even jotted down some good Christmas ideas and found a bright red outfit I think I want. I reluctantly parted this fall with the red plaid velvet shirt I’ve worn every Christmas Eve for years. Nap time!

Tonight, Jordan, Christian, and  I went to a lovely dinner party to celebrate the seventieth birthday of the husband of my Canadian daughter (explanation for those who don’t know: Sue and her two children, now well grown but young then, lived next door to me for several years; she moved on, bought a house, fell in love with a guy from California and enticed him to Fort Worth; she calls me her Fort Worth mom because her mom is far away in Ottawa, Ontario). We absolutely adore Teddy and were honored to be able to celebrate with him. I'm only sorry we didn't get a picture of him. He did single me out as the only person in the room a year older than him, and I reminded him it's a bit more than one year.

Dinner was at Nonna Tata, a tiny charming restaurant that serves country Italian food and seats at most 22—that’s how many there were tonight.  Wonderful food—antipasto, two pasta dishes, salad, rosemary bread, chicken and capers in what seemed like a yogurt sauce and was absolutely delicious, and an apple something for dessert. Great food, twice as much as I needed, and that much wine too. Good company, and a happy atmosphere. Lovely evening.

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."