Cooking up Memories

As Luis left to get some water from a local artisan well today, he made an off-handed remark as he walked out the door. "Why don't you womenfolk bake something?" He said it in jest, just to get my German up, but it worked for me. We were out of bread anyways. This late in the day, straight bread was a must, and since we are in basil/tomato days, a baguette to support bruschetta seemed in order.

As I started in on the bread, Isabella popped up questioning what she should make. Papa did say we should make something, not just me. She thought No Bake Cookies were a good idea, and who was I to disagree?

I love watching the kids make No Bake Cookies. I remember being their ages and coming across the recipe in a Little House on the Prairie cookbook. I remember mixing, stirring, feeling so big for using the stove, spooning the hot mixture out onto waxed paper, and failing to wait for the cookies to cool completely before starting to eat them. Watching the kids make the same cookies always takes me back to the farmhouse kitchen with white formica counter tops and mom's green cooking pots, working with my sister to scoop out the cookies.

I hope the children have similar wonderful memories as they watch their own children make No Bake Cookies some day.

Just Peachy

Luis has finally figured out that home canned peaches are a world better than Dole makes. That makes me happy. I have also discovered the the leftover syrup in the jars makes a lovely drink when mixed with white wine and seltzer. Yes, I know. I am weird.

So with Luis making inroads into the peaches I had canned for Isabella this year, I was happy when the fruit guy offered me another thirty pound box of dead ripe peaches today for the same great price. How could I say no? It was not how I intended to spend my afternoon, but I now have more peaches in syrup on the counter, slices freezing on cookie sheets and a big batch of peach butter bubbling away on the stove top.

I think the fruit guy has figured out that I am a sucker for a super deal.

In order to facilitate the afternoon's peach-a-thon, I mixed one toddler, one full peach and a half an hour in the high chair. I should have had my camera out, but of course then I couldn't have been canning the peaches if I had been taking photos. When he was finished, Simon required a shower and two hair washings. I think he might still have some bits of peach in there, but it was worth it.

Abundance

I do like opening my pantry or freezer and seeing the fruits of my summer labors stashed away for winter's enjoyment.

Cucumbers, finally fully pickled in the fridge and heading off to the freezer.

The tomato harvest has started in earnest. I did my first batch of sauce this week. We have yellow pear tomatoes this year in addition to the standard reds that I always grow. The yellow make a sweeter bruschetta, which Isabella loves. I prefer the slightly more acid red tomato bruschetta, though.
The onions did okay this year, though they did not turn out as big as I would have hoped. I have a number of braids hanging in my basement now. I only had enough onions for about eight braids, so I doubt this will last past fall. Hopefully I can grow them larger next year. I am not giving up on larger onions yet!The first batch of tomato salsa recently joined the peaches, jams and syrups in the pantry. It turned out a little spicier than intended, but I can make some milder for the children later.

The Strands of Time

It is only hair, right?

Then why is it that snipping a few wispy strands can instantly transform a baby


into a boy?

I am not ready for my baby to be this big yet. Then again, I am not ready for my first baby to be a decade old either.

We've had bad luck with our kids - they've all grown up. ~Christopher Morley

Random Thought Over Dinner

Does it count as fusion cooking when you serve Afghan flatbread paninis topped with Italian salami and a combination of Swiss and English Double Gloucester cheese?

Or is it just a dressed up grilled cheese to make the kids happy while not heating up the kitchen too much on an August evening?

Summer Concerts Continue

Music outdoors is so much better than anywhere else.

I do love that our friends include us in the group invited to intimate concerts on their farm. Where else can one listen to a Celtic drummer while sitting on a tricycle or playing on a seesaw?




The musician was Reagh Greenleaf, soon to be wanderer as he crosses the country on foot in a journey he has called Earth Walk. It was a pleasure to spend some time listening to him sing and play.

While I am sharing photos, here is Abigail in Fiddler on the Roof. She's in the purple pinafore. It was a great production by Monroe Theatre Guild. While I am glad the grueling schedule is finished, Abigail is naturally sad to see it end. She is already planning for this winter's Christmas Carol.

Once in a while, trust the experts

When shopping at the cheese store, if the cheesemaker holds up a hunk of cheese and asks "Did you pick this up? It is excellent, a real steal.", you buy the cheese even if it is not at all what you had come in for.

Holy moly, he was not kidding. The cheese is a Gruyere from Switzerland coated with herbs along the rind. It is absolutely amazing.

Always listen to Bruno the cheesemaker.

Spreading the real food word

A friend of the girls' was over for dinner tonight. Part of the way through dinner, she asked "Do you make all of your food?" I had to smile as I replied that we usually did. Dinner was pasta with choice of two sauces (shrimp, broccoli and wine or a majorly doctored-up jarred tomato sauce) and garlic-oregano bread made with a ricotta bread I baked yesterday. To drink, they were having Rhubarb Fizz, a yummy homemade rhubarb soda.

The look on the little girl's face was priceless.

For dessert, they went outside and ate mulberries as they picked them right off the tree.

I love helping others taste the joy of fresh, wholesome, homemade foods.

How can you complain?

Walking through the foyer this evening, Luis and I spotted the ball of orange yarn left over from the Traffic Cone. Knowing that Vincent had been playing with it earlier, we called up to him and asked why the yarn was on the staircase.

His reply? "Oh, that is my elevator."

Now how can we grumble about his leaving a ball on the stairs after that reply? It called for a smile, a hug and a demonstration of his totally cool " 'vention".

Oh, and on a total tangent, also mentioned in the post I linked to about the Traffic Cone was a comment about being nice to my sister. I must have been reeeeaaaallly nice because she brought me about 30 pounds of blueberries that she had to pick herself. While on vacation. My sister is the coolest. *mwah* Thanks so much, Squirt!

An evening well spent

The smells: candle wax, rosemary, lavender, wine.

The sounds: throbbing drums and melodic vocals with a background of crickets, the clang of finger cymbals.

The sights: hurricane lamp stage lights reflected in a mirror echoed by the flashing of fireflies, the silhouette of potted plants lining the walls of the ruins of the barn as the sun sets.

The tastes: Iranian noodle soup, hummus with pita triangles, rhubarb cobbler, melon

The touches: the squeeze of a friend saying hello, the caress of a baby swaying to the beat and snuggling in as he gets tired, the sharpness of rocks underfoot.

A concert and potluck at the Piazza is a feast for the senses as well as the stomach. Tonight brought Salaam Shalom for our listening pleasure, a twelve person ensemble including belly dancers that played a variety of songs, mostly Middle Eastern or Jewish cultural songs. Terry and Nancy organize these gatherings, and what a wonderful experience they always provide. I do not think I have ever experienced a concert anywhere else quite like those at the Piazza.