80

Last weekend was my Grandma Marie's 80th birthday. We had a huge surprise party for her with extended family from out of town, and of course, lots and lots of food. Though I had my hand in on the party, as did all seven of grandma's children, it was mostly a success because of the superb planning skills of my mother, the middle child. We had a white tent in our yard, flowers and old pictures everywhere, and my mom walked around serving her now-famous breadsticks and polenta to everyone.

That's my grandma up there. All took was one person to say, "Marie, get up and dance," for her to stand up, kick off her shoes, and start to move. I hope I still love life as much in sixty years.

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...

Irish.

So what's a girl to do when she's home alone on St. Patrick's Day? Well, throw on a festive apron, and get to work! I began with lemon squares. Not exactly festive, I know, but I make them so rarely, and they're so delicious, that I thought they'd be celebratory enough. Perhaps St. Patrick liked a good ol' lemon square (nevermind the fact that he probably never had one). I made a real feast for dinner, so much that I've been munching on leftovers all today as well. To begin, Irish Soda Bread. I never actually made Irish Soda Bread before, but it turned out wonderfully. A real treat. I had some leftover boiled vegetables (carrots, turnips, parsnips) from the family St. Patrick celebration a few days earlier, so I jazzed them up and made a wonderful Irish vegetable soup with crumbled bacon on top. Fantastic. And it wouldn't be Irish without potatoes, so I made some scalloped potatoes with cheddar cheese and onions, that tasted even better the next day.

Raw material for the lemon squares. Beautiful.

My lovely Irish feast for one.

Pale orange and green, subtly festive.

The celebration continues with breakfast.

Of course, I know St. Patrick's Day isn't just about being Irish or Irish food or wearing green (though if someone ever wants to drink a beer in my honor, I won't stop him). St. Patrick did some great things, and he deserves to be remembered. I prayed his breastplate prayer this morning. Here's part of it:

I arise today through a mighty strength,
The invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness
Of the Creator of creation.

...

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in very eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me

A fresh start

Ah...at last, spring is in the air. Of course, it probably won't last for long, but the fresh burst of sunshine was as refreshing and cheery as this colorful bouquet. As they say, March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb...well, to spin the saying my own way, I'd like to say that the sunshine was certainly clawing and roaring its way into existence today.




In keeping with last Spring's tradition, I've decided to keep up with the sun dress photos. May the whole world know that I embraced the sun today:

And in a lemon drop bathroom, no less. Keep turning, baby.

"By noon, the ice as thin as an eggshell veined to show life seeping yellow" ~Mary Jo Salter