Happy hour with Jacob

Trying to take a spontaneous picture with my Fort Worth family is an impossibility—they all three take wonderful pictures, and they can’t resist posing. Tonight I missed the action shot I wanted. So here’s a posed picture in which Jacob looks quite glum about the artichoke his mother is pointing too. A few seconds earlier, when I didn’t have the phone in my hand, he was laughing and saying, “It’s really good.”

The amuse bouche

While Christian labored over a hot stove, Jordan, Jacob and I had a happy hour. Jacob had another assignment to cook something French for his language class. Previously he did a credible croque monsieur, and for tonight we found directions for an amuse bouche that was nothing more than goat cheese rolled into a ball and then rolled in chives. Somehow that didn’t translate—and it ended up goat cheese with chives mixed in and then spread on baguettes slices. Good, but not I think what a true French chef would serve.

I had gotten an artichoke with my Saturday groceries—and what looked like the smallest container ever of hollandaise (not cheap—I really must master making it at home again; I used to do it beautifully, but now I don’t have a blender nor the confidence). Christian doesn’t eat artichokes, so we added that to our happy hour.

When Jacob was little, I bought bottle after bottle of “kid wine,” carbonated white grape juice. I thought he had long outgrown it, but tonight he asked plaintively if we couldn’t have kid wine again. Jordan objected that it’s too sweet but guess what—it will go in my shopping cart next week. That’s what grandmothers are for.

The amuse bouche was good, but the artichoke was a learning experience. Jacob went from refusal to try it, to trying one leaf without the Hollandaise, to trying the sauce and then, with a sheepish grin, said, “It’s really good.” After Jordan extricated the heart and divided it, Jacob recorded on his phone that hereafter he gets the entire heart every time. We did not agree to that. But I have added another artichoke to my Tuesday order for imperfect veggies.

What most delighted me was that Jacob, not at all an adventuresome eater, tried something new and ended up liking it. I’m afraid I’ll badger him with this incident every time I want him to try something new. I can hear myself harping, “Remember the artichoke!”

I was grown before I ever had an artichoke. I remember my mother and I once tried to cook a package of frozen baby ones—but we didn’t know to put Hollandaise on them, and we didn’t know what to do with them. I suspect they ended in the trash. I’m not sure who taught me to like fresh ones—it may have been my brother’s ex-wife. But now I think they’re a wonderful treat, though I admit they are in part a vehicle for the Hollandaise.

I told Jordan we’ve done a bad thing, teaching Jacob to like them. My mother didn’t encourage me to eat avocadoes for a long time, because she didn’t want to share (my dad didn’t eat them). Now we have to share, but he cannot have the whole heart. I’ll stomp and throw a hissy fit.

As long as we're talking about food, here's our dinner tonight: pork tenderloin in a cream/mustard sauce, wonderful roasted potatoes with chives and Parmesan, and a green salad. Christian outdid himself as usual. The potatoes particularly hit home with me.

Another gloomy day, and Sophie is reacting to the weather by snuffling, sneezing, and spitting up. Ah, spring in Texas.

An Amazing Day

Yesterday was an amazing day, mostly thanks to my daughters. We set off mid-morning from Auston for San Marcos, and the Witliff Collection/Southwest Writers Collection housed at Texas State University. The collection has an exhibit, up through mid-December, titled, “Literary Frontiers: Historical Fiction and the Creative Imagination.” And my early novel, Mattie, is featured along with works by Larry McMurtry, Steve Harrigan, Robert Flynn, Elizabeth Crook, Jan Reid, Bud Shrake and others too numerous to mention. I was absolutely thrilled to be in such company—most of whom I either know or had met a time or two. I just sat for a long time in that gorgeous room—exposed wood, Saltillo tiles on the floor==soaking up the atmosphere, the sense of writers. Of course, we took a lot of pictures, and the girls had fun seeing authors they’d met over the years.

We moved on to the exhibition of photographs by Keith Carter, intending to take a quick look. Instead we ended studying each photograph. The exhibition celebrates fifty years of work by Carter who has been described as the “poet of the ordinary.” He captures the beauty of people not at their best moment, the wonders of childhood, the glories of the animal world. He plays with perspective and focus and has an eye for the extraordinary in the ordinary. A truly compelling exhibit. Carter lives in Beaumont and teaches at Lamar University.

Then on to lunch. I’d never been to San Marcos, didn’t expect such a charming, almost funky downtown area, a contrast to the sprawling modern buildings of the university. We had lunch in the Root Cellar, literally a cellar, casual atmosphere, good food, and a great dessert. I’m still trying to gain weight, so you say “turtle cheesecake” to me, and I say, “bring it.”

dessert

Detoured on the way back to Austin to a store both girls knew about but I’d never heard of—Warby Parker for eyeglasses. With two daughters as fashion judges, I got the new sunglasses I’ve needed forever and a pair of readers. Silly me! I had thought we’d just go to CVS and pick them out. This was considerably better, though a bit harder on the pocketbook—enough so that my bank called to check out the unusual transaction in a strange city.

Back to Megan’s where I napped and woke up to find an unexpected party in progress. Friends had dropped by, and Megan and Brandon urged them to stay for supper. Asian marinated flank steak and Asian coleslaw. Noisy, lots of fun. But by ten, I was drooping—after all, I’d walked farther and done four times the physical activity I’m used too. My conclusion? I could never live in Austin—pushing my walker uphill is way too hard.

But several times during the day I just took a minute to say silent thanks for the day, my family, and the life I’m so lucky to lead. Now, today, it’s back to work. Home tomorrow. I’ve been getting good reports on Sophie from Christian who is holding down the Fort Worth fort.