On the left is my "goddaughter" Abby. Just as her "mom" Donna is Remy's "godmother. Abby fell ill two weeks ago and did not recover despite the best efforts of her veternarians at Cornell U. She will missed deeply by us and her family.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
A Sweet Girl
On the left is my "goddaughter" Abby. Just as her "mom" Donna is Remy's "godmother. Abby fell ill two weeks ago and did not recover despite the best efforts of her veternarians at Cornell U. She will missed deeply by us and her family.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Shut-up-itis
There is a popular cable show where the hosts have a special expression when something amazing, usually good, happens…they look at each other and one of them says, "Shut UP!"
My dad used to say in his succinct way, "If you have nothing to say…shut up."
My mother phrased it as "If you have nothing to add to the conversation…shut up." Or if we were in polite society, she would say it to me in French. I know it was French because when I repeated it to my high school French teacher, I got detention for a month.
Mom also had "The Look" that said shut up in great, big CAPITAL LETTERS, italicized, bold, underlined.
My brother would roll his eyes and say SHUT UP Pea Brain. (His favorite pet name for me.)
My early years were steeped in mastering the art of shut up. So you can believe me when I say I am very, very good at it.
Usually.
Most of the time. Really.
OK, there was that one little, tiny incident at a business conference where I provided some audience participation to a strictly rhetorical question. Even though the audience was appreciative, Chris's boss was not amused by my contribution. But the speaker, I think he was chairman of some big Swiss bank, kissed me on both cheeks when we met later that evening.
OK, so I have lapses. But I am not entirely without other social aids. Oh, no. I have the Voice Inside My Head. It's the Immodium to my diarrhea of the mouth disease, if you will.
Allow me to illustrate. I will be about to say something monumentally stupid when...
ViMH: "Shut up Barbara"
"Why? I have something *** to say [ *** amusing, clever, poignant - you fill in the blank]."
ViMH: "It's not ***. Just shut up."
By now I am practically twitching in the effort to open my mouth. "But it's really, really ***," I argue.
ViMH: "No, it's not. Trust me."
"Puleeeeeze!" I whine.
ViMH: "NO! Shut UP Barbara!"
And on it goes until the ViMH wins. Usually wins...
Unlike the other evening when I said to a complete stranger at a perfectly lovely pool party,
"Oh my God, what happened to you?" looking at what I thought was a large bruise and she replied,
"It's a birthmark."
I prefer white wine with my foot, thank you very much.
A few weeks ago, the contractor working our Maine house emailed pictures of the snow storm. He said the house looked like a frosted cake.
No kidding!
My dad used to say in his succinct way, "If you have nothing to say…shut up."
My mother phrased it as "If you have nothing to add to the conversation…shut up." Or if we were in polite society, she would say it to me in French. I know it was French because when I repeated it to my high school French teacher, I got detention for a month.
Mom also had "The Look" that said shut up in great, big CAPITAL LETTERS, italicized, bold, underlined.
My brother would roll his eyes and say SHUT UP Pea Brain. (His favorite pet name for me.)
My early years were steeped in mastering the art of shut up. So you can believe me when I say I am very, very good at it.
Usually.
Most of the time. Really.
OK, there was that one little, tiny incident at a business conference where I provided some audience participation to a strictly rhetorical question. Even though the audience was appreciative, Chris's boss was not amused by my contribution. But the speaker, I think he was chairman of some big Swiss bank, kissed me on both cheeks when we met later that evening.
OK, so I have lapses. But I am not entirely without other social aids. Oh, no. I have the Voice Inside My Head. It's the Immodium to my diarrhea of the mouth disease, if you will.
Allow me to illustrate. I will be about to say something monumentally stupid when...
ViMH: "Shut up Barbara"
"Why? I have something *** to say [ *** amusing, clever, poignant - you fill in the blank]."
ViMH: "It's not ***. Just shut up."
By now I am practically twitching in the effort to open my mouth. "But it's really, really ***," I argue.
ViMH: "No, it's not. Trust me."
"Puleeeeeze!" I whine.
ViMH: "NO! Shut UP Barbara!"
And on it goes until the ViMH wins. Usually wins...
Unlike the other evening when I said to a complete stranger at a perfectly lovely pool party,
"Oh my God, what happened to you?" looking at what I thought was a large bruise and she replied,
"It's a birthmark."
I prefer white wine with my foot, thank you very much.
A few weeks ago, the contractor working our Maine house emailed pictures of the snow storm. He said the house looked like a frosted cake.
No kidding!
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Merry Christmas!
Chris and I were enjoying our Christmas morning coffee in front of the fire when he commented,
"It would really be nice to be doing this in front of the tree."
"Well, go ahead!" I say.
"But I don’t want to go outside. It's too cold." he whined.
I guess I have to blame this exchange on my fit of the Bah Humbugs! I just didn't feel like putting up the tree this year.
Part of the problem comes from the sheer unwieldiness of the 12 foot artificial tree with deluxe light package we purchased several years ago.
"Just join the two sections together and plug in to any standard wall outlet.
So easy a child could do it!" the box claimed.
Well, I'm here to tell you it's like wrestling with a sea monster. A creature with long prickly fingers that can hook the glasses off your face, poke sensitive spots - VERY sensitive spots - and consume a third of the floor area in the living room.
At one point, attempting to adjust the base so the tree wasn't leaning so precariously over to one side, Chris belly crawled under the lower branches and completely disappeared. Eventually the tree was standing straight, but next time I'm going to tie a rope on him to make sure I get him back.
Add to that, Chris needs a body harness and winch to place the angel on the top of the tree. It's an effort on a par with Mary Martin flying across the stage as Peter Pan, only without the green tights. A ladder does not work because even though we place it as close as possible to the base of the tree, you're 20 feet from the top branch once at the top of the ladder. And no matter how c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y he places the angel, she flops to one side like a drunken wench who's been at the spiked eggnog for too long.
Coupling the lights between sections is a Gordian knot with the added bonus of threatening to electrocute one of us. Two seconds after we unpacked the box the first time, the little color coded sticky things for matching which socket goes to which plug all fell off. So we grunt and huff as we reach into the bowels of the branches, I holding a socket, he holding a plug, trying to meet up, as it were, so to speak. "...little more left - no, no, YOUR left! Ow! Sweet mother of God, I think I've lost an eye! ABORT, ABORT, ABORT!"
All this before we even unpack the first ornament.
So, no tree this year. Deal with it. But I did scatter poinsettias all around and that brightened things up considerably.
Some of the family and friends joined us Christmas evening for dinner. We started by the fire in the living room with pate and camembert cheese topped with Cranberry Drizzle. I made prime rib this year - two roasts in fact since the end cut is so popular. That worked out well. Amy's cheesy potatoes was the perfect partner for the roast. Homemade ice cream, Pear Tarte Tatin and Nantucket Cranberry Cake finished up menu.
It was a great Christmas!
Cranberry Drizzle
Combine 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar and 3 cups cranberry juice in a saucepan. Bring to boiling; reduce heat. simmer, uncovered, for 45 minutes until tmixture is reduced to 1 1/3 cupes.
In a bowl toss together 1/2 cup cranberries and 2 tablespoons sugar; add to juice mixture.
simmer 5 minutes more or until cranberries begin to pop. Remove from heat. Cool.
Refrigerate up to 2 weeks.
"It would really be nice to be doing this in front of the tree."
"Well, go ahead!" I say.
"But I don’t want to go outside. It's too cold." he whined.
I guess I have to blame this exchange on my fit of the Bah Humbugs! I just didn't feel like putting up the tree this year.
Part of the problem comes from the sheer unwieldiness of the 12 foot artificial tree with deluxe light package we purchased several years ago.
"Just join the two sections together and plug in to any standard wall outlet.
So easy a child could do it!" the box claimed.
Well, I'm here to tell you it's like wrestling with a sea monster. A creature with long prickly fingers that can hook the glasses off your face, poke sensitive spots - VERY sensitive spots - and consume a third of the floor area in the living room.
At one point, attempting to adjust the base so the tree wasn't leaning so precariously over to one side, Chris belly crawled under the lower branches and completely disappeared. Eventually the tree was standing straight, but next time I'm going to tie a rope on him to make sure I get him back.
Add to that, Chris needs a body harness and winch to place the angel on the top of the tree. It's an effort on a par with Mary Martin flying across the stage as Peter Pan, only without the green tights. A ladder does not work because even though we place it as close as possible to the base of the tree, you're 20 feet from the top branch once at the top of the ladder. And no matter how c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y he places the angel, she flops to one side like a drunken wench who's been at the spiked eggnog for too long.
Coupling the lights between sections is a Gordian knot with the added bonus of threatening to electrocute one of us. Two seconds after we unpacked the box the first time, the little color coded sticky things for matching which socket goes to which plug all fell off. So we grunt and huff as we reach into the bowels of the branches, I holding a socket, he holding a plug, trying to meet up, as it were, so to speak. "...little more left - no, no, YOUR left! Ow! Sweet mother of God, I think I've lost an eye! ABORT, ABORT, ABORT!"
All this before we even unpack the first ornament.
So, no tree this year. Deal with it. But I did scatter poinsettias all around and that brightened things up considerably.
Some of the family and friends joined us Christmas evening for dinner. We started by the fire in the living room with pate and camembert cheese topped with Cranberry Drizzle. I made prime rib this year - two roasts in fact since the end cut is so popular. That worked out well. Amy's cheesy potatoes was the perfect partner for the roast. Homemade ice cream, Pear Tarte Tatin and Nantucket Cranberry Cake finished up menu.
It was a great Christmas!
Cranberry Drizzle
Combine 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar and 3 cups cranberry juice in a saucepan. Bring to boiling; reduce heat. simmer, uncovered, for 45 minutes until tmixture is reduced to 1 1/3 cupes.
In a bowl toss together 1/2 cup cranberries and 2 tablespoons sugar; add to juice mixture.
simmer 5 minutes more or until cranberries begin to pop. Remove from heat. Cool.
Refrigerate up to 2 weeks.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Winter Flavors
When we went to the races way back last October, I was asked to bring a dish along. Since I had some pears on my counter,
that got me thinking about a recipe for roasted pears I had recently seen that seemed interesting. Well, of course, I could not remember where I had seen idea, so I cast about on my favorite food internet sites for inspiration. Several hours later and now so ravenously hungry I was wondering if I could fool myself into thinking the cat food was really expensive pate - I mean, a little parsley sprinkled on the top and some ritz crackers...mmmmmm...who could resist? Thinking better of THAT plan, I headed to the kitchen, clutching several pages of recipes for roasted pears.
Eventually I ended up with the salad pictured above - roasted pears, pancetta and toasted walnuts with blue cheese over arugula dressed with lemon vinaigrette. Well received and versatile as either a salad or addition to a beef flank sandwich. I also want to work on a roasted pear chutney, which I think would be fabulous with pork, but that is for another day.
Roasted Pear Salad with Pancetta and Blue Cheese
serves 6
3 bosc pears, halved and cored, sliced into wedges (4 or 5 per half)
2 T. extra virgin olive oil
1 t. kosher salt
fresh ground black pepper (to taste)
12 slices of pancetta
2 to 3 ounces blue cheese (I used bleu d'auvergne)
1/2 cup walnuts
arugula
Pre-heat oven to 375
Spread the pancetta slices on a sheet pan and bake in oven until crispy. Watch as slices can go from done to burned in a second. Better to take out a little early.
Toss the pear slices with the evoo, salt and pepper. Spread on a sheet pan. Roast in oven for 15 to 20 minutes, just until edges are starting to caramelize.
Place the walnuts in a dry saute pan (do not use non-stick) just large enough to hold in one layer. Toast over medium high heat, tossing frequently, for 3 to 5 minutes.
Dress the arugula with Lemon Vinaigrette (recipe below). Arrange pancetta on top, then pears, blue cheese and walnuts.
Everything can be prepared ahead of time and assembled just before serving.
Lemon Vinaigrette
1 garlic clove
big pinch kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 T. dijon mustard (plain or grainy)
zest from 1/2 of a lemon
2 T. fresh lemon juice (never bottled!)
4 T. evoo
Shred the garlic on the tines of a dinner fork in the bottom of a mixing bowl. Add the salt, pepper, mustard, zest and lemon juice and stir to combine. Whisk in the evoo until dressing is emulsified.
You can also place all the ingredients in a lidded container and shake hard to combine.
Taste dressing and adjust seasoning, adding more evoo if you prefer.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
A Day at the Races
I have lived in New Jersey for much of my life, but I had never attended the steeplechase races at Far Hills until this year. This annual event is well known in the NYC area and was a favorite of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. Remember the pictures of Carolyn on her pony Macaroni? If you click here, you will find an article in the NJ Star Ledger (don't miss the comments…jeez, get a grip people). I even got a picture of the horse head ice sculpture mentioned in the article…talk about rubbing elbows with the “greats.”
If you ask me, this ice sculpture is a bit more interesting…it’s a “Shots Luge” You stick you mouth at the bottom of one of the trenches and they put a shot of vodka or tequila down the trench. Are we a great country, or what?!!
At the same spot, a display of pumpkin art caught our attention. Here are couple of my favs…
(No pumpkins were harmed by the making of these models…or should I say “hack jobs?”)
Decorations were rampant - er, I mean, there were many, many lovely, tasteful displays of gracious magnitudeness. We, on the other hand, preferred a more simple approach... Here I give you Mary Pat with our tail gate decoration...Tail...Gate....get it?
To say a bit of drinking goes on would be an understatement. One tailgater had five - count ‘em - five kegs of beer. Of course, we did our share…not saying we didn’t, but five kegs???? Here’s a victory pic of Mary Pat after she accidentally fired the cork from the champagne bottle - missing Chris and Michael by a hair - for a direct hit on a race goer strolling past our site. Thank goodness the woman’s down vest averted a bloody, bone crushing injury. "Oops, sorry…my bad - are you all right, dee-ah?"
I have only recently met Mary Pat, but so far she was two for two on the day. I am sure she and I are going to become verrrrry close friends. She is definitely my kind of gal!
Fox seem to be a favorite decoration…
All in all, it was a beautiful October day spent with good friends, lots of food and fine wine. Can’t ask for more! 
Thursday, October 16, 2008
August Happenings...
Just kidding...I know it's October!
Actually August was a blur of working on the cottage, as was September and a bit of this month. Just to give you an idea of all we have accomplished, I offer a few before and after pics below.
We also took care of the wet basement problem by installing a French drain along the back of the house. It was quite the project, but we think we have finally fixed the problem.
The discovery of three springs along the back wall of the house explained a lot of it. Even more water ran into the trench before the excavator dug the outlet trench. The outlet pipe now runs with a constant stream of water 24/7; most of which was in the basement before.Chris finally dragged me home on the 9th. The fall colors were just getting to their peak, but much needs attention here at home.
Old living room...
Ta daaaa! Not too shabby for mostly garage sale finds, bargain bin buys and a bit of home DIY projects (more on those later).
The old driveway and garage entrance...
New screen door on garage, new drive and in the background, fence and garden shed through the arbor.
We added a deck to the front to replace the old sidewalk and patio.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Maine Musings
We’ve been here three weeks and it has been a blur of work. Luckily, the weather has been a little off, so we are not feeling too abused, i.e., having to work inside the house when the gulls are all calling us to come out and play. But today is a picture perfect - 72 and a soft breeze off the ocean. It’s heaven!!
A few numbers for your amusement:
22 trips to Home Depot, mostly for paint
18 trips to Lowes
12 trips to the grocery store, liquor store, drug store (lots of Advil!)
10 trips to Owls Head Market for take out lunch
8 to the post office for arriving packages and boxes
6 to Walmart
4 trips to the transfer station for recycling and garbage - no home pick up here.
3 Amy’s of Cushing, Maine pies down the hatch
2 trips to the town dump We have a town dump! That is soooooo 1950‘s!
1 set of houseguests
0 lobster dinners - how can this be???? Too exhausted to go out!
Everything is in a state of Almost Done. The living room, one bedroom and the bathroom are almost there; the two other bedrooms are not started yet. I will get one done by Tuesday night for the next house guest - I hope! We chip away at it every day and we would not be this far if not for Craig and Melitta and Helen and Howard. Good friends who jumped in to paint, spackle, polish, clean, line shelves, advise, comfort, feed us (and help us drink) and generally make our lives so much easier. The house would be no where near this ready without their generous and willing help. We are blessed!
And if that was not enough, Craig added a beautiful stone chimney cap for us…getting rid of an ugly metal vent. We have amazing friends.
I have just spent an hour watching a young osprey hunt for his fish supper. Hanging over the narrow channel between our end of the land and Ash Island, he made several dive bombs into the water to come up empty. Around he would circle, ruffling his feathers in flight to fling off the water, to hover above the waves, watching, watching…
A small sign for Organic Vegetables caught my eye yesterday on my way home from some errand or another. I turned down the gravel lane and around the first curve found a beautiful white Maine farm house with a small stand by the road. The owner/gardener came out and we started chatting. I am very curious about gardening here in Maine…when can I plant, what survives the winter well and what doesn’t, where does she find compost, mulch, etc. Lovely, willowy Catherine shared all her secrets and I came home with beautiful salad greens, haricot vert beans, basil, gorgeous beets and the last jar of her 3 Red Berries Jam. She is so pleased with it, she is saving the rest of her supply for Christmas gifts. Yes, it really is that good…and I wish I was a friend!
The full moon was breathtaking the other night. A perfect naval orange glowing in the night sky.
x
A few numbers for your amusement:
22 trips to Home Depot, mostly for paint
18 trips to Lowes
12 trips to the grocery store, liquor store, drug store (lots of Advil!)
10 trips to Owls Head Market for take out lunch
8 to the post office for arriving packages and boxes
6 to Walmart
4 trips to the transfer station for recycling and garbage - no home pick up here.
3 Amy’s of Cushing, Maine pies down the hatch
2 trips to the town dump We have a town dump! That is soooooo 1950‘s!
1 set of houseguests
0 lobster dinners - how can this be???? Too exhausted to go out!
Everything is in a state of Almost Done. The living room, one bedroom and the bathroom are almost there; the two other bedrooms are not started yet. I will get one done by Tuesday night for the next house guest - I hope! We chip away at it every day and we would not be this far if not for Craig and Melitta and Helen and Howard. Good friends who jumped in to paint, spackle, polish, clean, line shelves, advise, comfort, feed us (and help us drink) and generally make our lives so much easier. The house would be no where near this ready without their generous and willing help. We are blessed!
And if that was not enough, Craig added a beautiful stone chimney cap for us…getting rid of an ugly metal vent. We have amazing friends.
I have just spent an hour watching a young osprey hunt for his fish supper. Hanging over the narrow channel between our end of the land and Ash Island, he made several dive bombs into the water to come up empty. Around he would circle, ruffling his feathers in flight to fling off the water, to hover above the waves, watching, watching…
A small sign for Organic Vegetables caught my eye yesterday on my way home from some errand or another. I turned down the gravel lane and around the first curve found a beautiful white Maine farm house with a small stand by the road. The owner/gardener came out and we started chatting. I am very curious about gardening here in Maine…when can I plant, what survives the winter well and what doesn’t, where does she find compost, mulch, etc. Lovely, willowy Catherine shared all her secrets and I came home with beautiful salad greens, haricot vert beans, basil, gorgeous beets and the last jar of her 3 Red Berries Jam. She is so pleased with it, she is saving the rest of her supply for Christmas gifts. Yes, it really is that good…and I wish I was a friend!
The full moon was breathtaking the other night. A perfect naval orange glowing in the night sky.
x
Monday, July 14, 2008
THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM
Melitta and I were sitting on the deck, drinks in hand…
“Barbara…”
“I know.” I said
“Oh, Barbara”
“I know”
“Barbara!”
“I know!”
“Wait until Chris sees this!” she said
“I KNOW!”
“This is just…oh…Barbara!”
“I knowwwwww!!!!!!”
This conversation went on like this for most of our first cocktail and a good part of the next. The reason for it is quite simple…
Chris and I are the proud owners of a cottage in Maine!!
ON THE WATER!
In Owls Head!
True story: last September in Dijon, France, we all rubbed the belly of a small statue of an owl for good luck. The owl is the symbol of Dijon and this little figure on the side of the church has been rubbed for luck for over 500 years.
I guess it works! I am a doubter no more of old French legends.
WWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
A cottage! In Maine! On the water!!!
I have been dying to blog about this but I am just superstitious enough I wanted to wait until it was a done deal. The closing was last Friday. We have been looking for a small place for five years. We have missed out on two other properties - one by a day and one by a couple of hours. So, once burned, twice shy, as they say. We put in a bid almost within minutes of the house being listed. As several people said over the weekend, we missed on the earlier purchases because THIS is where we are supposed to be!
Melitta came with me for the weekend as Chris could not get away. Over the weekend, we hit a mess of garage sales and scored some major furniture deals. It took three trips on Saturday to haul all the loot. Next we checked out paint colors and decided on a palette for the interior. That led to some power shopping for kitchen towels and other appropriately colored accessories followed by a stop at the (one) local furniture store to finish out living room seating needs. At the end of each day, we would relax on the balcony of our hotel room before dining at one or another favored restaurant. Melitta's company made the whole weekend so much more fun. Besides, I needed someone to keep pinching me just so I could be sure I was not dreaming.
I can show you these pictures, but until you are sitting there watching the sun and clouds play across the water…
Looking at hundreds of gently bobbing lobster trap buoys, their gaudy colors reflecting in the sunlight one moment and blending seamlessly into the soft silvery gray water’s surface the next…
Hearing only gull’s cries and the soft lapping of the waves on the beach…
Smiling companionably when far off someone laughs as they prepare to relax for the evening…
Taking in a deep breath of pine trees and salty, sea damp air…almost tasting it…
Contentedly tracking the progress of a wind jammer or a day sailer weaving in and out of the islands or a lobster boat chugging for home port, wondering if the trip brought a successful haul that day…
Until that moment, you just cannot imagine how truly perfect is this little cottage on Mussel Ridge Channel on the Maine coast. These pictures and my words just cannot bring it to life, do it justice, make you understand.
Here are a few pictures. Just a cute little one story, 1955 ranch with the original knotty pine kitchen. But the view, the place, the feeling…there are no words! But now when I say “We have a cottage in Maine,” I have a greater appreciation of the emotional words of Karen Blixen: “I had a farm in Africa…”
Is this kitchen not adorable? These pictures are from the realtor's listing.
“Barbara…”
“I know.” I said
“Oh, Barbara”
“I know”
“Barbara!”
“I know!”
“Wait until Chris sees this!” she said
“I KNOW!”
“This is just…oh…Barbara!”
“I knowwwwww!!!!!!”
This conversation went on like this for most of our first cocktail and a good part of the next. The reason for it is quite simple…
Chris and I are the proud owners of a cottage in Maine!!
ON THE WATER!
In Owls Head!
True story: last September in Dijon, France, we all rubbed the belly of a small statue of an owl for good luck. The owl is the symbol of Dijon and this little figure on the side of the church has been rubbed for luck for over 500 years.
I guess it works! I am a doubter no more of old French legends.
WWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
A cottage! In Maine! On the water!!!
I have been dying to blog about this but I am just superstitious enough I wanted to wait until it was a done deal. The closing was last Friday. We have been looking for a small place for five years. We have missed out on two other properties - one by a day and one by a couple of hours. So, once burned, twice shy, as they say. We put in a bid almost within minutes of the house being listed. As several people said over the weekend, we missed on the earlier purchases because THIS is where we are supposed to be!
Melitta came with me for the weekend as Chris could not get away. Over the weekend, we hit a mess of garage sales and scored some major furniture deals. It took three trips on Saturday to haul all the loot. Next we checked out paint colors and decided on a palette for the interior. That led to some power shopping for kitchen towels and other appropriately colored accessories followed by a stop at the (one) local furniture store to finish out living room seating needs. At the end of each day, we would relax on the balcony of our hotel room before dining at one or another favored restaurant. Melitta's company made the whole weekend so much more fun. Besides, I needed someone to keep pinching me just so I could be sure I was not dreaming.
I can show you these pictures, but until you are sitting there watching the sun and clouds play across the water…
Looking at hundreds of gently bobbing lobster trap buoys, their gaudy colors reflecting in the sunlight one moment and blending seamlessly into the soft silvery gray water’s surface the next…
Hearing only gull’s cries and the soft lapping of the waves on the beach…
Smiling companionably when far off someone laughs as they prepare to relax for the evening…
Taking in a deep breath of pine trees and salty, sea damp air…almost tasting it…
Contentedly tracking the progress of a wind jammer or a day sailer weaving in and out of the islands or a lobster boat chugging for home port, wondering if the trip brought a successful haul that day…
Until that moment, you just cannot imagine how truly perfect is this little cottage on Mussel Ridge Channel on the Maine coast. These pictures and my words just cannot bring it to life, do it justice, make you understand.
Here are a few pictures. Just a cute little one story, 1955 ranch with the original knotty pine kitchen. But the view, the place, the feeling…there are no words! But now when I say “We have a cottage in Maine,” I have a greater appreciation of the emotional words of Karen Blixen: “I had a farm in Africa…”
Is this kitchen not adorable? These pictures are from the realtor's listing.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
June Happenings
I know, I know…it’s July. I meant to get this onto the blog in June…Really I did.
Sooooo, June was a quiet month here for us. And we enjoyed the heck out of it. Taking the time to read and even sneak in a nap every now and then.
I made a quick trip to Maine early in the month, but I can’t reveal the reason just yet. Stay tuned for a surprise. Don’t ya just love a tease? I stayed at the Hartstone Inn in Camden. Michael and Mary Jo have a beautiful inn which you can see on their website here. Michael added these charming, rustic kitchen garden beds this year at the back of the inn. I had a few questions on their construction and Michael answered them in his blog here. Just scroll down to the May 12th entry.
Two years ago, I planted a Delphinium elatum ‘Green Twist’ in one of the garden beds at the back of the house. Apparently it is VERY happy as this is a bouquet from this 6’ giant perennial. Actually, it is half of the flowers on the plant. Impressive! Just after I cut this bouquet, we had a flood of rain and the rest of the blooms broke their stalks from the weight of the water.
The Sergeantsville Farmers Market has started up again. Here's a shot of just part of it.
The first week I bought summer squash, baby lettuces, garlic scapes, radishes AND I found a resource for organic pork and chickens and fresh eggs from Blue Jingler Farm. Blue jingler is a type of native stone found along the banks of the Delaware River separating NJ and Pennsylvania. It rings like a bell when you strike it was a hammer, hence its name. The owners, Jack and Cheryl live a couple of miles from us. Pig rules in our house so I’ve ordered a half for the fall. The chickens are pasture raised in large, open shelters and the eggs are head and shoulders above store bought. Chickens, by nature, are omnivores. That is what lends richness and flavor to their eggs and why organic store bought eggs, which are usually the product of a vegetarian diet for the hens, are not as tasty. Also, a recent study from Tufts University found eggs from flocks allowed to forage were up to 1/3 lower in cholesterol naturally. Cool!
They were screaming hot and Chris LOVED them…the radishes, that is. I just served them up straight from their refrigerator hot tub - cold tub? - with a pile of kosher salt. Thankfully, the salt takes a bit of the bite out of them. I also found a tasty and addictive recipe for radish spread here. A mouthful of summer…
The vendor selling the garlic scapes gave me a recipe for garlic scape "pesto." He offered it as a sauce for meats or egg dishes. I used it over grilled squid with some pasta. Make this as thick or runny as desired for the application. I added ladels of pasta water to the pan when I was tossing everything together until I liked the consistency.
1 package of garlic scapes (about half a gallon size bag or 3 dozen scapes)
2 cloves garlic
handful of parsley leaves
handful of fresh basil leaves
2 t. kosher salt or to taste
whiz above in food processor to a reasonable mince. While motor running, add
half to 1 cup evoo
until consistency is what you like.
Fair Warning Escape Clause: THIS HAS AUTHORITY AND YOU WILL LOVE IT!!!!
You can see the bags of scapes in this picture...
Wendy’s mum and dad - “P” and “G” to their grandkids…no, I don‘t know why - have been visiting from England. We just call them Graham and Gwen. I must find out from Wendy how it comes to pass her father can deliver a most stirring grace before dinner - in LATIN! I felt really blessed! I volunteered to make the dessert for Katy when she and Michael had us all over for dinner. I decided on a fresh raspberry and blackberry tart with pastry cream and butter crust. The golden raspberries were a boon from the store and heavenly sweet. I just wish they had been organic, but that’s not going to happen at the local supermarket.
Sooooo, June was a quiet month here for us. And we enjoyed the heck out of it. Taking the time to read and even sneak in a nap every now and then.
I made a quick trip to Maine early in the month, but I can’t reveal the reason just yet. Stay tuned for a surprise. Don’t ya just love a tease? I stayed at the Hartstone Inn in Camden. Michael and Mary Jo have a beautiful inn which you can see on their website here. Michael added these charming, rustic kitchen garden beds this year at the back of the inn. I had a few questions on their construction and Michael answered them in his blog here. Just scroll down to the May 12th entry.
Two years ago, I planted a Delphinium elatum ‘Green Twist’ in one of the garden beds at the back of the house. Apparently it is VERY happy as this is a bouquet from this 6’ giant perennial. Actually, it is half of the flowers on the plant. Impressive! Just after I cut this bouquet, we had a flood of rain and the rest of the blooms broke their stalks from the weight of the water.
The Sergeantsville Farmers Market has started up again. Here's a shot of just part of it.
The first week I bought summer squash, baby lettuces, garlic scapes, radishes AND I found a resource for organic pork and chickens and fresh eggs from Blue Jingler Farm. Blue jingler is a type of native stone found along the banks of the Delaware River separating NJ and Pennsylvania. It rings like a bell when you strike it was a hammer, hence its name. The owners, Jack and Cheryl live a couple of miles from us. Pig rules in our house so I’ve ordered a half for the fall. The chickens are pasture raised in large, open shelters and the eggs are head and shoulders above store bought. Chickens, by nature, are omnivores. That is what lends richness and flavor to their eggs and why organic store bought eggs, which are usually the product of a vegetarian diet for the hens, are not as tasty. Also, a recent study from Tufts University found eggs from flocks allowed to forage were up to 1/3 lower in cholesterol naturally. Cool!
They were screaming hot and Chris LOVED them…the radishes, that is. I just served them up straight from their refrigerator hot tub - cold tub? - with a pile of kosher salt. Thankfully, the salt takes a bit of the bite out of them. I also found a tasty and addictive recipe for radish spread here. A mouthful of summer…
The vendor selling the garlic scapes gave me a recipe for garlic scape "pesto." He offered it as a sauce for meats or egg dishes. I used it over grilled squid with some pasta. Make this as thick or runny as desired for the application. I added ladels of pasta water to the pan when I was tossing everything together until I liked the consistency.
1 package of garlic scapes (about half a gallon size bag or 3 dozen scapes)
2 cloves garlic
handful of parsley leaves
handful of fresh basil leaves
2 t. kosher salt or to taste
whiz above in food processor to a reasonable mince. While motor running, add
half to 1 cup evoo
until consistency is what you like.
Fair Warning Escape Clause: THIS HAS AUTHORITY AND YOU WILL LOVE IT!!!!
You can see the bags of scapes in this picture...
Wendy’s mum and dad - “P” and “G” to their grandkids…no, I don‘t know why - have been visiting from England. We just call them Graham and Gwen. I must find out from Wendy how it comes to pass her father can deliver a most stirring grace before dinner - in LATIN! I felt really blessed! I volunteered to make the dessert for Katy when she and Michael had us all over for dinner. I decided on a fresh raspberry and blackberry tart with pastry cream and butter crust. The golden raspberries were a boon from the store and heavenly sweet. I just wish they had been organic, but that’s not going to happen at the local supermarket.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
NAME GAME
I’ve been thinking about names lately, nick and otherwise.
They say your porn name is a combo of your first pet and the first street you lived on…so I’m Beautiful Bonnie Hill or Dopey Lake Moraine (my mother could not make up her mind what to call the stupid cat and, apparently, neither could the locals about what to call the road where we lived) or Corky County Road Three. Corky was our Newfoundland dog. You decide. Sigh…I can’t even catch a porn name break.
I like my given name…Barbara. There aren’t too many in my general age group, which is nice. It has reasonable diminutives…Barb (not my fav), Barbie, Babs (don’t EVEN go there though my friend Marne always calls me that) or Bobbie. I’ve even met the person I was named after, which, if you’re not named after a family member, not everyone can say.
What I am looking for is an uber cool nickname. Something with panache. Descriptive in a “good” way. Unique. And I have found it…Twinkie. I hear you all snorting out there! I’m serious! Really.
I can thank my friend Linda for this newfound obsession. In casual conversation she mentioned her friend, Twinkie. STOP the conversation. Whoa Nelly. Back up the truck. Twinkie? “Yeah, Twinkie.” Wow. I could hear *The Hills Are Alive from the Sound of Music* swelling in the background. I made her say it again. “Twinkie” Now I was hearing Maria from West Side Story rolling through my brain. Linda rolled her eyes and gave me her patented “You are SUCH an idiot.” look.
I don’t know how Twinkie got her name - from a favorite childhood snack? If so, I’d be Ring Ding or Ho Ho (behave yourself) (and is that the daughter of a … never mind). But no matter where the name comes from…it is a name you can stand up out loud with…it is cool to the power of ten.
I did have a pet name as a child, several, in fact. Sometimes my dad called me Icky. I think he came up with that from the “special” look on my face when I was filling my diaper with a *big* one. The one that stuck was Tinker Bell. How lame is that? Close to Twinkie, you say, but not close enough for me. You know how I know? Try this sentence out loud…”Don’t *make* me call Twinkie.” Or how about “She went all Twinkie on him.” Now try those with Tinker Bell. See what I mean?
I know I cannot purloin someone else’s nickname. I think it even states in the Nickname Official Rule Manual (NORM) you cannot make up your own. It’s supposed to be a naturally occurring event. Like when you did the half gainer off the church steps and you have been called Grace ever since. Or Stinky for someone with the last name Butts (thanks, Jeff). My friend Bob told me he and his buddies called each other by their mother’s names. That’s cool.
But Twinkie…now THAT‘S a nickname you can put on a name tag with pride!
They say your porn name is a combo of your first pet and the first street you lived on…so I’m Beautiful Bonnie Hill or Dopey Lake Moraine (my mother could not make up her mind what to call the stupid cat and, apparently, neither could the locals about what to call the road where we lived) or Corky County Road Three. Corky was our Newfoundland dog. You decide. Sigh…I can’t even catch a porn name break.
I like my given name…Barbara. There aren’t too many in my general age group, which is nice. It has reasonable diminutives…Barb (not my fav), Barbie, Babs (don’t EVEN go there though my friend Marne always calls me that) or Bobbie. I’ve even met the person I was named after, which, if you’re not named after a family member, not everyone can say.
What I am looking for is an uber cool nickname. Something with panache. Descriptive in a “good” way. Unique. And I have found it…Twinkie. I hear you all snorting out there! I’m serious! Really.
I can thank my friend Linda for this newfound obsession. In casual conversation she mentioned her friend, Twinkie. STOP the conversation. Whoa Nelly. Back up the truck. Twinkie? “Yeah, Twinkie.” Wow. I could hear *The Hills Are Alive from the Sound of Music* swelling in the background. I made her say it again. “Twinkie” Now I was hearing Maria from West Side Story rolling through my brain. Linda rolled her eyes and gave me her patented “You are SUCH an idiot.” look.
I don’t know how Twinkie got her name - from a favorite childhood snack? If so, I’d be Ring Ding or Ho Ho (behave yourself) (and is that the daughter of a … never mind). But no matter where the name comes from…it is a name you can stand up out loud with…it is cool to the power of ten.
I did have a pet name as a child, several, in fact. Sometimes my dad called me Icky. I think he came up with that from the “special” look on my face when I was filling my diaper with a *big* one. The one that stuck was Tinker Bell. How lame is that? Close to Twinkie, you say, but not close enough for me. You know how I know? Try this sentence out loud…”Don’t *make* me call Twinkie.” Or how about “She went all Twinkie on him.” Now try those with Tinker Bell. See what I mean?
I know I cannot purloin someone else’s nickname. I think it even states in the Nickname Official Rule Manual (NORM) you cannot make up your own. It’s supposed to be a naturally occurring event. Like when you did the half gainer off the church steps and you have been called Grace ever since. Or Stinky for someone with the last name Butts (thanks, Jeff). My friend Bob told me he and his buddies called each other by their mother’s names. That’s cool.
But Twinkie…now THAT‘S a nickname you can put on a name tag with pride!
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