Moon Flowers and Morning Glories

These fat Moon Flower buds stay tightly furled in our daytime triple digit heat but when the sun sinks low, they begin their slow revelation of white tissue petals and yellow star centers.  Growing on the same trellis, Morning Glories begin their deep purple  show just as the Moon Flowers are folding up again.  Here, I stand on the outside of my kitchen window to catch their image.  But when I am inside, standing at the kitchen sink, I marvel at the vines and their ever changing art at my window.  I think that is why they call it a window frame.

Last night Joe and I were invited by our youngest son, Ben, to share a meal with him and his wife Kristen in their new home. Ben promised to make us one of Kristen's favorite dishes, Leek and Two Cheese Quiche. We brought some homemade gazpacho and an arugula salad. The table was set beautifully, with wedding goblets and a huge bunch of basil from their garden. Just as I was thinking how special they had made our evening, one more realization gave me a smile as well as a tear.


As I picked up my spoon, I recognized a piece of vintage silverplate. Not a fancy pattern, but simple, beautiful, and achingly familiar. We didn't have a lot of fancy kitchenware when I was growing up – no matching pots and pans, no crystal, mostly mismatched plates and bowls and glasses,stainless flatware, miscellaneous plastic and wood handled spoons and serving items. The knives and forks and spoons we used for every day meals were in a shallow drawer on one side of the short kitchen counter. But the spoon I held in my hand was kept with a matched set. This was my mother's silverplate, the pieces she kept in a box she had painted light green to match her kitchen at one point. She had a set of butter yellow china that she kept on a high cabinet shelf. The silverware box sat by itself at the end of the counter. This flatware she pulled out for use for special or holiday meals, or when we had company.

When my mother sold her small house to move into a still smaller apartment, she gave many things to my sister and me, and to her grandchildren, who call her Nana.

She gave Ben the green box. In the years to come he kept the box and its contents on his own kitchen counter. He made Sunday after-church dinners and a Mothers' Day lunch to which Nana was invited.  She noticed his use of her silverware, and bragged on his cooking.  Now, he and Kristen have given the delicately traced knives and forks and spoons a place of honor in a drawer of their beautiful china cabinet. I felt Nana nodding and saw her smile last night as we began to fork bites of Ben's delicious pastry. I know she approved. Her spirit and her spoons continue to bless the gathering of family.

Jacksonville,Texas: The Tomato Capitol of the World

Joe and I both grew up in Jacksonville, Texas.  Recently a number of facebook threads of conversations as well as a website have provided pictures of years past in our hometown.  I like this picture because it shows a line of women packing tomatoes in the tomato sheds for which Jacksonville was famous.  My mother, Opal Terrell Teal, worked packing tomatoes in the 1930's.  The picture is not of her, but I can see her, discarding imperfect tomatoes as "culls", which were sold at reduced prices, and wrapping the select tomatoes in tissue paper as the conveyor belt rolled them down the line in boxes to be shipped.
http://www.tomatocapital.com/photos/packingtomatoes.php

Imagination

My younger granddaughters know what they want to do when they come to visit.  The dressup basket is always the first stop after I claim my hello hugs and kisses.  On a recent visit, Maddie modeled glamor with one of my old skirts, a garden hat, sunglasses, and glittery purple ribbon,picking this outfit out of all the scarves, jewelry, tutus, aprons, and yards of fabric in the basket. Skye and Jordann joined in the fun as they modeled for us with a fashion show. I love watching them choose and create and pretend.  There are so many toys and games to choose from in the market today.  Many of them are fine choices, educational, and challenging.  But too many of them offer children little choice, squelching imagination in an electronic stupor.

  Maddie, and Skye, and Jordann, keep on creating!  Here's to your imagination!

Red, White, and Blue

We celebrated with a Fourth of July breakfast this morning.  A Dutch Baby (puffed pancake) with blueberries, rasperries, and strawberries.  We enjoy a variety of pancakes of various origins, but this may just be voted family favorite.  Nearly 25 years ago, our friends Bob and Dorothy Thomas made this.  Once I tasted it, I hastily scribbled the bones of the recipe on a torn piece of paper, which is still the one I pull out when I get ready to make it.  Even though I know the simple ingredients and preparation by heart, I like to connect with the memories by handling this tattered little note. It may be simple, but because it rises and puffs and is always beautiful with any assortment of fresh fruit, it is a great way to make guests feel special, whether served at breakfast, brunch, or a lovely dinner dessert.

                                                                  1/3 cup butter
                                                                   4 eggs
                                                                   1 cup milk
                                                                   1 cup flour

Begin heating oven to 425 degrees.  Put butter into an 8 inch round iron skillet and place in oven.  While butter is melting, put eggs, milk, and flour into blender jar and mix throughly.  Take hot skillet out of oven and pour batter directly into melted butter.  Do not stir.  Place back into oven for about 20 minutes, or until puffed and browned.  I cut it into fourths and top with fresh berries or peaches and sprinkle lightly with powdered sugar.  If you wish, add a dollop if whipped cream.  Garnish with a sprig of mint.
Optional:  Add vanilla or a dash of nutmeg for flavor.  We like it plain.

Together, Alone

I enjoy participating in an online reading group.  We take turns leading a book each month.  For July, I am moderating discussion questions for this book.  I bought the book and Susan signed it at a Story Circle Network conference in Austin shortly after it was published.  During my second reading, Together, Alone draws me once again to examine the power of place in my own story.

The Eggplant Chronicles

  I have always enjoyed foraging - looking for what looks good whether it is in my pantry or available fresh vegetables and herbs, then planning meals around that.  I believe cooking for two or ten is an art project in which I create the healthiest and most appealing foods. Our weekly share of CSA produce delivered from an organic farm an hour north of Houston has changed my habits of planning meals.  Since I don't know what I am going to bring home until I get it (a little like looking in your Christmas stocking) I wait until then to plan the next week's food fare. I love the fresh vegetables, but it can be challenging to provide variety. 

We have received alot of onions, tomatoes, squash, and eggplant. I made Eggplant Parmesan.   I made a huge dish of classic French ratatouille with fresh basil and thyme for Father's Day weekend.  As I checked out recipes online, I realized there was a similar dish in many cultures, particularly Mediterranean.  There are slight variations. Spanish Pisto is served with a fried egg on top.  The Greek dish Briam contains white wine and is seasoned with mint and basil and dill.  Turkish Torlu  is sweet and savory with potatoes and chickpeas and has cinnamon and cilantro as well.  Alboronia (Andalusia) has paprika and vinegar. Samfaina, from Catalonia calls for the vegetables to be chopped fine and caramelized.   There was a recipe for Soufiko (from the Greek Island Ikaria).  But  they all contain eggplant.  I think I have alot of new dishes to try. 

I still enjoy foraging, this time for recipes, and their stories.