Into the Future

Friday night I went down to Pittsburgh to check out a bit of the Arts Festival. It was great to see all the artisans' booths, and was especially exciting to see so many young people trying to make a living by creating something. It was also great to see so many different people milling about. Endless people watching. In hindsight, it makes me think a bit about myself. Who am I? Not sure exactly. I've entered into a phase in life where I seem to be discovering and (hopefully) falling in love with myself all over again. I make lists of what I like and don't like, trying to figure out who this person is. I like lavender, poppies, rosemary, Italy, Mary Oliver, and yellow. I don't like bananas, Faulkner, or taupe. I hope to figure out what sort of person I'd like to be. I think I'm on a good road to discovery.

Think Green

Cabbage is a humble vegetable. Rarely does anyone raise a flag for it. Many turn up their noses at sauerkraut. Save coleslaw, few people ever eat cabbage, except maybe boiled with potatoes on St. Patrick's Day. I consider this a tragedy. I have recently decided that cabbage is one of my favorite vegetables, and lucky for me, as it's also very inexpensive. It all started when I was flipping through one of my favorite cookbooks, The Silver Palate Goodtimes Cookbook, and came across a recipe Que Sera Silk Salad. Intrigued, I skimmed the ingredients, and saw that the main one was cabbage. I started talking to myself about how I needed some, when my mom pulled a head of cabbage out of the fridge. Lucky me. This particular recipe required soaking shredded cabbage in salt water for hours so it would take on a silky consistency. It was delicious. But my favorite way to eat cabbage? Sauteed in a pan with some butter, salt, and pepper. Simple. Heavenly.

Vacation

I returned home from Kiawah Island, SC on Saturday. It was incredibly relaxing. I spent most of my time reading travel/food books, and I even did a bit of writing. I wrote this poem (still in the works, though) for this view (though at a different time of day).

The sun looks like and orange eye as it lowers

and peeks at me through the thick tress on the small island

floating in the river across from me

while a heron matches the river in blue, doing nothing

but parading through the marsh grass like a guard on duty

and he notes that all is in order, for the tide is rising steadily,

making invisible the sandbar that I saw only an hour earlier,

while next to me the fiddler crabs scurry about, their large claws raised

and ready to do battle with the incoming tide

that is threatening to dilapidate the shoreline

but only for now, because by morning tomorrow the water

will not seem dangerous anymore, as it folds down

to reveal the jagged line of oyster shells, a minature fortress baricade

or Great Wall of China, but for now, they are just shells,

hiding beneath the river, afraid of the night.

Next to me, a family poses for a group photo,

trying to capture the moment.

One of my favorite parts of vacation is the Oyster Roast. Everyone stands around at great wooden spools, which are piled high with fresh oysters, roasted in fire pits right there. Take a knife, crack one open, douse it with lemon and hot sauce, suck it out of the shell. Delicious. But the best part of the night is dancing and dancing and dancing with my dad to the live island band.

L'Arancia

I confess to being a sporadic blogger, a fact which needs no confession--it should be clear to anyone upon glancing at the frequency of previous entries. I would like to change that. My inspiration for this blog, was of course the fabulous yarnstorm, and though I will never reach such blogging mastery, I would like to try a little harder. Tonight I was inspired by a friend who began a blog and shared it with me. It was such a dear experience and entry into part of his life, that I would like to provide the same for others.

I actually took these pictures a bit ago with intent of sharing them here. One of the great joys of summer--life, really--is food. How refreshing for me especially after years of cafeteria cooking. Now I can choose what I eat. Recently, this choice led to oranges. But not just any old oranges. The day before I took these pictures, I was making cookies with my Italian grandma and her sister. Interspersed with singing along in Latin to Andrea Bocelli, they talked, talked, talked. My grandma spoke of eating an orange just this way--with olive oil and mint. Since I have an abundance of mint, I decided to give it a try. Pure bliss. Especially with a glass of vino rosso. Always perfect.

Of course, I can't wait to see blood oranges in the market again...