Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Remembering Indonesia

I was recently asked to talk about the country of Indonesia to some groups of children at my granddaughter's school.  I guess a picture really is worth a thousand words, because it would take me more than a thousand to tell the stories behind the objects shown here.  After almost 20 years, I am surprised that the time we spent in Jakarta, Indonesia came to mind so vividly as I showed them dolls and puppets, played gamelan music, passed around rupiah, shared photos and books and spread out batik.  To finish, we shared a snack of pisang, nanas, and krupuk (bananas, pineapple, and shrimp crackers).  Since we had family birthdays to celebrate the next weekend, our youngest son, Ben, grilled sate and and made nasi goreng for us to eat while we watched old videos of Jakarta and Bali.  It was a time long ago and far away, but we remember.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Angel

Maddie wanted to be an angel for Halloween.  I don't know what she wore to trick or treat.  But when she was here last weekend, she put on an angel robe I wore when I was her age, some feather wings from the dressup box, and of course, a halo!  Here, she makes heavenly music!

Monday, October 24, 2011

Apron Strings

As I browse catalogs from my favorite kitchen stores (Sur le Tables and Williams Sonoma) I am noticing the appearance of items that would make my mother proud.  Aprons!  Ruffled, pocketed, colorful aprons .  Some have bibs and tie at the top as well as the waist.  Some are cute little hostess aprons like the one above.  These are way different from the chef style aprons that never went completely away, especially for barbecueing.  In fact, they are replicas of the vintage aprons collected by some which were always worn by women in the kitchen in generations before mine.  I have aprons that were sewn by and worn by my mother and grandmother.  Both women would be shocked at buying one, particularly at the prices at which they are advertised.  After all, they made theirs out of leftover fabric from other sewing. 

I like looking at all those pretty aprons.  But I don't want one of them.  I am happy to pull on the soft bits of history on the hook in my pantry.   I am after all, tied to my mother's apron strings.
                                                  

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Well Dressed Gardeners

The cousins stayed still only long enough for last week's post photos, then they were off to continue helping me get the garden in shape.  Here, they are planting flowering kale and cabbage.  Everytime I water the plants, I close my eyes and thank God for my granddaughters.  I love gardening, and they do too.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Hats

It wasn't Easter, but the little girls paraded in new hats last week.  The pictures make me happy.  I hope they work that way for you!
Jordann's saucy cloche had us humming Charleston.



Skye's crocheted beret suited her smile.

                                                             And Maddie charmed us all with her jaunty plaid cap.


                                                                                                            

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Cousin Tea Party

Instead of two for tea, there were three this weekend as Maddie, Skye, and Jordann asked to have a tea party.  No pretend tea this time.  We took down the tea pot, heated the electric kettle, and brewed afternoon tea.  What fun the cousins had together.  I love the sights and sounds of little girls! 

Monday, September 26, 2011

It's Good to Be Back

We broke alot of records recently in Texas. June, July, August and right into September found us with the most days without rain, the most days of temperatures over 100, the most damaging wildfires, the highest water and electricity bills, and the least happy roses, among other plants and grasses. In an effort to be a better steward of the water we are blessed with, I started saving water that I had used to wash vegetables and collected the bits of leftover water from drinking and cooking to take out to the plants. I even took the iced tea pitcher out to water the ferns with leftover tea, something I remember my grandmother doing.

 Cooler mornings and more reasonable, if still hot days in the past week are bringing some old friends fresh growth and a few tentative blooms.  Our pink  Peggy Martin, the antique rose with the reputation of being a survivor of Katrina has a few small clusters of buds.  This less hardy climbing rose is named Crepescule, an old French old rose.  Its name is not so pretty, but the blooms that are beginning are lovely and fragrant, reminding me once more why all the work and watering is worth it, and that we all need a little more nurturing in drought, whether it is of the weather or the heart.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Headed for Fall, Remembering Summer

At the beginning of the summer, when the herb and vegetable garden was producing plenty to pick every day, Maddie and Skye loved helping with the harvest.  One day they asked if they could have a farm stand in the front yard.  They had the sign all ready to go:  Tomatoes were 50 cents each, bunches of Basil were advertised at 10 cents, and mint for 2 cents per handful.  Peppers were 30 cents, and underneath the large "OPEN and SALE!"   lettering was the enticing "1 Free Water with each purchase!"
A couple of neighbors helpfully shopped from their market, and they happily counted their proceeds as they chattered about how much more fun that was than a lemonade stand.

Now, at summer's end, I think about our long hot Texas summer with record breaking drought and am thankful we had those weeks of bounty before the garden said "no more."  I pick up the sun hats they wore that afternoon, and move the little round table to a spot until they are ready to use it for another project.  And as grandmothers do, I carefully put the sign in a good place for keeping. 

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Rescued

In 1982, our family lived for a time in a three story Victorian house with halls and nooks and crannies as well as rooms that swallowed the furniture we brought with us when we moved from a suburban home back to the small town where both Joe and I grew up.  Living there and working on the home's restoration was both fascinating and flabbergasting.  Part of the hard work and happy times we had there was giving myself an occasional afternoon for prowling in second hand and junk shops for pieces to restore and use in the house.  One day I found this rocker stuck in the middle of a pile of discarded tables and chairs.  The fanciful curlicues and swirls drew me to look closer at the wicker weaving on the back of the chair but when I looked down I saw straight through.  There was no seat, only some tattered strips of rotting burlap hanging to the frame by the tenacity of dozens of tiny rusted nails.  A few pieces of trim curls were missing, the color was best described as dirty, and mud dauber nests clung to the underside of the arms. I believe the shop owner laughed as he watched me load the chair into my truck as he stuffed the $20 bill he had required as payment into his pocket!

My youngest son, Ben, was game to help me pry out over 200 nails from the seat of the chair and scrub it down to get rid of the insect homes and cobwebs. I had never done caning, but   I ordered a piece of cane webbing, spline, chisels and glue which cost more than the chair had.  We soaked the webbing,  pounded the spline into the groove of the shaped seat and watched in amazement as it all dried and began to tighten to make a new seat.  We got more white paint on us than on the chair, but began to feel a sense of pride as this beautiful Victorian rocker emerged to take its place in our new old home.  When I rock a grandchild in it or tuck a pillow in its seat, I still have a sense of all the stories it could tell me.  One story would be that of a rescue.

                                                        

Monday, September 5, 2011

Squash Baby

Sometimes a vegetable hides under its foliage until it is beyond edible.  Jordann found this yellow squash  and obviously loves it, warts and all!  Seeing her cradle it reminds me of a zucchini I displayed in the same fashion a few years ago.  I come from a long line of farmers. When I was Jordann's age, we often used surplus cucumbers and squash from the garden to make a menagerie of animals with toothpick legs and button eyes.  I still create with these fresh treats, but now it is in the kitchen. Today's produce prices at the supermarket are making me expand my list of vegetables to grow in the coming season.  Tomatoes are in and finally beginning to grow as temperatures come down from triple digits.  Soon we will plant collards, swiss chard, and bok choy which winter well here. When possible I find heirloom seeds and plants to use.  I am thankful for my garden, and I delight in seeing my children and grandchildren becoming gardeners, too.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Feeling Real


Summer 2011 may be the time I remember as the hottest and driest on record in South Texas, but it will also be one more time in my life when I am reminded that I am real. Joe has had his 12th knee surgery . It is hard to see him in so much pain and for so long. Two hospitalizations, surgery, medical appointments and all the in betweens has been exhausting for him, and challenging as I care for him. His faith and courage and spirit persist and inspire me, but I know he is worn out. Today, Skye has been here with her quick smile, tight hugs and good company. She was looking at a picture of herself that is on my kitchen desk that shows her at three, thanking God for her bowl of chicken soup. As we talked, I thought to myself that of all the things I enjoy doing and being with her, one of the best is conversation. Listening to each other. She helps me know I am real. She helps Joe remember that he is, too.

“Real isn't how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real. It doesn't happen all at once...it takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily or have sharp edges or have to be carefully kept. Generally by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But those things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to the people who don't understand.”

~ from The Velveteen Rabbit, by Marjorie Williams (one of our all time favorite children's books)

Monday, August 22, 2011

For Love of a Sunday


The Terrell home place rested at the top of a hill, accessible only by forked red dirt roads lined with wild blackberries and purple phlox. On Sunday afternoons after church we took a ride out to the country to visit. On the way, we watched for flashes of color in the woods, and sang “Red Bird, Red Bird, in my sight! Hope we get to Grandma's before it gets night!”



As we drove up one side of the entrance to where the iron rich clay ended in sand under an ancient oak tree, I felt I could not get there fast enough, loving the first sight of the white house with its sagging swing on the front porch and sprawling, fragrant yellow rose at the front window. But we always went on to the back, leaving the car to walk past the well and beds of Old Maids and Marigolds. I adored my Grandma's bosomy, talcum-scented embrace and Papa's toothless laugh. As he threw open the screen door, we went straight to the kitchen, sniffing baking cookies. These were pillowy tea cakes, redolent of vanilla and cinnamon. We ate them warm, often with a red watermelon, cut in half so we could dig with our spoons for bites, never minding the juice running down our chins.



In the wide front hall, my sister and I sat cross-legged to play jacks on blue linoleum with white stars. Sometimes, we were allowed to go into musty darkened rooms where my great grandmother had lived before she died. This area held shelves with jars of fruit and vegetables my grandmother put up, a trunk full of quilts, stacks of books, a tiny wicker rocking chair, an oval frame holding a portrait of an uncle who died when he was 13, a spinning wheel. Treasures.



I wanted to keep it all.



But Sunday afternoons changed.



I left for school, then marriage. Papa died. Grandma broke up house and moved to a tiny apartment in town. The house burned to the ground. I found a melted door knob to save.



The only smell was smoke.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

A Celebration

I am celebrating a 5th anniversary!  Not a wedding anniverary (that will be number 48 this year).  This is a celebration of sight. Five years ago I had two cornea transplants that changed my vision and my life forever.  In late 2005, I was diagnosed with a degenerative corneal disease, Fuch's Corneal Dystrophy. Changes came quickly.  Within a few months, my vision became so poor that I was advised to have transplant surgery on both eyes.  In May 2006, I received the gift of a donor cornea for my left eye.  Two months later, the procedure was repeated for my right eye.  I recovered quickly from both surgeries, and receive follow up exams and testing every 6 months.

 Yesterday was one of those medical appointments. Afterward,  I drove myself to another appointment, read a book while I was waiting there, joined the heavy freeway traffic on my way home, and picked up my mail to read when I got there.  I saw a hummingbird at the feeder by my kitchen window while I was preparing our dinner.  I finished blogging for my other two blogs http://www.stonesandfeathers.wordpress.com/ and  http://www.kitchenkeepers.blogspot.com/.  I read the thermometer when I took my husband's temperature.  Every single one of the things I just wrote about was possible because of two donor families who said yes to organ donation.  Because of 2 complete strangers and their families, the skill of a dedicated doctor, and Grace, I can see.
Yes, I am celebrating!  I am thankful.

These words are dedicated to awareness of organ donation and to vision research.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Glimmers from the Past

I was recently asked what country or regions my birth family came from.  I have some answers and alot of blanks!

I only wish had early known the questions I now have and asked them while those who might have answered were still alive! There are, however, glimmers from the past, and some apparently accurate passing down of ancestral origin. I was born to Opal Terrell Teal and Howard Teal in Tyler, Texas in 1940. My father's mother, Ida Mayfield Teal,  took care of her parents until their death, and only then married, "late in life" was the phrase I always heard. My father, the oldest of 4 children was born when she was 41. I know very little about her background save that she drilled a hole in a memorial coin (given to her father William Mayfield in the Spanish-American war) put the coin on a string for her babies to teeth on! Her husband, my paternal grandfather was a stout man, deaf as a post, red faced and according to family story, Irish, and Protestant.


The information about my maternal grandparents is definitely more detailed and full of stories. I have an ancestral chart which shows my maternal grandfather's maternal line back to the Mayflower and beyond to England and Scotland. I have heard many stories about my Methodist Great Grandfather, John Wesley Terrell. He was an East Texas farmer with a large family, but he was known for generosity.


My maternal grandmother was born to Ernestine Matilde Augier Curley, who was born in Marseilles, France, and  immigrated from southern France with her parents, Bienvenue Pascal Augier and wife Clara Orthinet to a southern Parish in Louisiana when she was a child. Their Catholic past is evident from a small holy water font that was passed down and currently rests in my china cabinet. Just yesterday I was sorting through the stacks of family papers and memorabilia. I can only do this in intervals, a little at a time. Partly because I feel a deep connection to all these letters and kept things and feel a heaviness of decision making as I sift through. I think "if my grandmother and my great grandmother kept these things, who am I to decide they are or are not worth keeping?" I am approaching my 71st birthday and have been avoiding all these boxes and stacks for one reason or another for far too long. I need to organize, pass on what is meaningful, and store in the most efficient way what needs to be kept for the time being. But lest I sound resentful, let me say there is great honor in being the designated keeper of these things, and there is story in nearly everything I touch. Yesterday I unfolded a long piece of delicate handmade lace from the box I marked "Great Grandmother Curley's Things" many years ago. It was probably used as a covering for a library table or dresser. I haven't yet made myself put it away. Touching it evokes a world of question. Did she make this lace, or did her own mother, who would have been my French great great grandmother? As I think these thoughts, I know I will wait until my granddaughters are here so that I can show it to them. Think about it....holding something that your great great great grandmother loved and used.


When they are ready, I will tell how this grandmother lived through a traumatic period in her adopted country's history: the Civil War, Reconstruction, the Spanish-American War, World War 1, and Hitler's invasion of Europe. How during this time, she birthed 10 children by 2 husbands, neither of whom lived to see all their children born. A story is told that her second husband, James Curley, (my great grandfather) was later found to be a fugitive from justice, but no word of what he had done to claim that status. They were married only 5 years, but 3 babies were born during that time, including twins one of whom was still born. My grandmother, Mary Clyde Curley Terrell, was born shortly after his death. When Grandma Curley could no longer live alone, she lived with my grandmother and her family, but she was present at the birth of every grandchild.  With 10 children, that is alot of grandchildren!


"Grandma, I look at your picture. You look so stern and strong. I know that you loved to crochet and do fine needlework because I have boxes of intricately patterned crochet and lace pieces that you used for "go-bys". Even though you died when I was 3 months old, I was told that you rocked me and held me and loved me.  I see in my own granddaughters some of your independence and ability to endure. You modeled faith and faithfulness. They have a deeply rich legacy."


I am indebted to my cousin, Jane Hill Pirtle, for much of the information here. She included this in a story about her own grandmothers published in Filtered Images, women Remembering Their Grandmothers.


Monday, August 1, 2011

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.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

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.

Monday, July 18, 2011

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

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

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!


Monday, July 4, 2011

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.

Friday, July 1, 2011

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.

Monday, June 27, 2011

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.

Monday, June 20, 2011

A Week with Maddie

My granddaughter, Madelyn, has been here for over a week.  She loves to cook as much as I do, so we have baked cupcakes, made Amish Friendship Bread, mixed up egg salad for a picnic, used the vegetable spiraler on zucchini and cucumbers, and enjoyed making Papa's dinner.  That doesn't mean she didn't have time to catch tadpoles, pick dozens of bouquets, raid the dressup basket for fashion shows with her cousin Skye, cut herbs, and harvest every tomato, okra, and cucumber that wasn't hiding under a leaf.  This list hardly begins to tell all the fun we had.  One morning when she woke up and ran in to give me a hug, she asked what I was writing.  I showed her the little journal and told her every morning I write down 5 things I am thankful for.  She wanted me to read her what I had been writing all week. Every day had her name written...Maddies' songs, Maddie's smile, snuggling with Maddie, reading with Maddie, Maddie's prayers.  She took the pen and asked if she could write something in the Gratitude Book and asked me for a little help with spelling.  When she gave it back to me, I read  I  AM  THANKFUL  FOR  GRANMARY. I don't know if she will always remember this week, but I know that I will.  Thank you God for Maddie!

Monday, June 6, 2011

8 Ball Squash

I was only recently introduced to a new vegetable.  I have been eating different kinds of squash all my life, but who knew there was a zucchini called 8 Ball?  Named for its perfectly round shape, this squash can of course be cooked like any of the other summer squash.  However, it is beautifully designed to be stuffed.  I admit this is a little more trouble than slicing and steaming.  But the results were pretty enough to photograph, and tasty enough to write down the recipe.  I took a short cut by purchasing a frozen risotto with asparagus and mushrooms from the local supermarket, but it would be even better with a rice mixture made from scratch.
The old idiom "behind the 8 Ball" definitely does not apply to this dish!

                                                        Stuffed 8 Ball Squash

2 Medium to large 8 Ball Zucchini
1 package frozen risotto mix (I used Asparagus and Mushroom risotto from HEB)
1/4 cup toasted pine nuts
1/2 cup sliced Kalimata olives
1/3 cup grated Parmesan
1 Tablespoon butter

Slice off tops of squash, scoop out centers, but do not discard.  Melt butter in saute pan, add mashed up squash centers.  Cook, stirring to break up the squash, for 3 minutes.  Add risotto mix, nuts and olives, and stir to mix. Add parmesan, mix, and stuff squash shells, pressing down then mounding stuffing slightly.  If desired, use the squash tops which were trimmed off  to perch on top like little hats.

Note:  Instead of the prepared risotto mixture, use cooked rice to which you can add grated cheese, raisins, chopped green onion, herbs, and nuts.