Dia de los Muertos

Day of the dead…is really a day for the living, those here on Earth, grieving someone we loved.  It is a celebration begun over 3000 years ago by indigenous peoples of Mexico to demystify death.  The tradition is to build an altar to entice the dead to visit one day a year.  

I was intrigued by the concept as I have patiently waited seven years for my beloved Grandma to return to me in my dreams.  She is in my waking conscious and I invite her to my dreams but she doesn’t come.  I feel her spirit all around me and she is never far from my mind or my heart.

When I started reading about Dia de los Muertos, I decided to build an altar.  I used a brass tinderbox I turned upside down and opened up.  I filled it according to the traditions and included ofrendas, offerings.  I placed a small framed portrait of her, pictures of her with my kids when they were little, a diamond ring she gave me, a cranberry cordial glass, a handwritten note from her and these traditional ingredients for a Dia de los Muertos altar:

Candles – to light her way

Marigolds – the scent attracts the dead.  Mine in the yard had already bloomed but I was surprised that during this week Trader Joe’s had bouquets of them.

Salt – representing life.  I put it in a crystal saltcellar she gave me.

Sugar pumpkin – tradition is a sugar skull but I had a sugar pumpkin instead.  I added a small painted ceramic skull.

Pan de los Muertos – I baked my own and crafted it with bones on the top

Skeleton – representing the dead

Christmas Ornament – The holiday that was special with her.  We shared the joy of decorations, baking and gift giving. 

I went to bed hopeful.  She didn’t come.  It made me sad and disappointed.  I started to second-guess my ofrendas thinking I should have left a glass of champagne for her.  She was giggly when she drank.  She told a story how when she sailed to Hawaii she became so seasick all she could keep down was crackers and champagne.

Hope is a strong emotion and I have not lost it because of this.  I will try again next year.  I enjoyed looking at the altar and adding to it.

I told my mom about the altar and that she didn’t come.  She very calmly said, “Maybe you have to be Catholic.”  I am not so I will cling to the historical indigenous people’s belief before the Catholics came in and changed the date to the day after Halloween, All Saints Day.  

I see my Grandma in my world.  I see her in a rose, the flight of a hummingbird and when I smell coffee brewing in the morning.  I can still feel her hugs and hear her laughter.  Until next year, rest in peace my dear Grandma.

Below is a link to the site with the bread recipe I followed.  I was skeptical as a baker when I read you do not proof the yeast but add all the ingredients.  It was perfect.  I made five six-inch loaves, decorated with bones and glazed with orange.

http://www.celebrate-day-of-the-dead.com/  Celebrate-day-of-the-dead.com

17 months and 59 years later

It has been 17 months between blogs and I have a lot to say. No excuses for not writing. I miss it more than my two followers did! So, I am back. I will catch you up, post a new recipe and write more often.
I had a great run in 2013, my 6th year competing at the California State Fair. Competing is not for the faint of heart and I took my share of criticism from the judges. I learn from it and make changes to entries and compositions. I took 1st place in the Fleischmann's Yeast Best Baking Contest for my Mom's Sweet Cardamom Bread and 3rd place in the Ghirardelli Chocolate Championship for my Après Dinner Mints. I had my 15 minutes of fame on the local channels, Sacramento Bee and at work! It was a Splendid experience, a shameless plug for the clothes I wore on camera. 

In November, I wrote my first book titled for now, This Bird Does, a memoir about growing up with grandparents, divorce, love, death, and God.  Woven throughout the narrative is the connection I have with food. I signed up for Nanowrimo at the suggestion of a friend who knew how much I love to write. The contest is a challenge to write 50,000 words in the month of November. The prize is finishing. It wasn't as hard as I imagined because I wrote about my life and I am the expert. It was fun and I will do it again. Now I am editing and rewriting before I even consider publishing it myself. It gave me a huge sense of accomplishment and I felt the encouragement from friends and family that I will always remember. 

I signed up for Twitter, I tweet, and I follow and I am followed.  I don't do Facebook or instagram.  I added my twitter feed at the top so you can read my tweets or follow if you would like. The challenge of twitter is to get your message across in only 140 characters. I'm learning and enjoying following.

    Pyrex bowls, circa 1954

 I received this email from a dear friend last summer:

 Move over Paula Deen! (love her, by the way)
OK, first I noticed the green Pyrex bowl - the bread bowl as my mom called it.
"Heads up", I said. "This lady is the real thing. She has my mom's green bowl. Something good is coming from this lady."
AND IT WAS YOU. ON LIVE TV!!!!! And, on your BIRTHDAY!!!
What a way to celebrate! You go girl!
Congrats on your First Prize win. Couldn't be happier for you. I hope all of your family and friends saw you Saturday am. A moment that I will never forget.........love u

The green bowl. I decided to take it on TV because I knew it would show up well on camera. It came from the stacked primary colors Pyrex set my mom received as a wedding present in 1954. When she downsized to move, she gave them to me. The only problem was there were only three; yellow meant potato salad growing up, green; I know now as my friend's mother's bread bowl and blue the best cereal bowl ever.
But no red bowl. Broken years ago.

At work a month ago, at a potluck, there was the red bowl sitting on the conference room table filled with veggie straws. I tried to hold back my excitement. I couldn't stop looking at it. I picked it up and held it thinking what it would mean to complete the set. I offered the owner $20 on the spot. I knew they existed on EBay but mostly in sets. I expected to find the red one at a yard sale or thrift store. He said he had to check with his wife. The next day he brought it in and gave it to me, refusing money for it.  I couldn't believe it!  An act of kindness that I will never forget. Completed set 59 years later.

I promised a recipe. This is my new favorite. I found a recipe for green tea cured salmon. I made it and liked it. My BFWF, Best Friend at Whole Foods, Drew, sent me some LapSang souchong tea for Christmas.  It is black tea smoked over a pine fire.  I thought if I used it, the salmon would taste smoked and it does.  It is incredibly easy, looks beautiful and tastes amazing. I reciprocated by sending him my homemade mulberry leaf tea, a natural zombie repellent.  I read it on the internet so it must be true.  

  

Smoked Tea Cured Salmon

One salmon fillet (I use wild caught from WF, about pound)

½ cup kosher salt

½ cup LapSang souchong tea

½ cup organic brown sugar

Mix the salt, tea and sugar together.  I use a Pyrex dish, 9 x 11, place plastic wrap on the bottom, enough so you can wrap the fish up. Place the fish skin side down on the plastic wrap and cover with mixture so that no fish is exposed.  Wrap it up and place a heavy object on top to flatten.  I use a cast iron Dutch oven.  Put it in the refrigerator for 48 hours.  Remove from dish and plastic wrap.  Rinse under water to remove the salt, tea and sugar.  Dry with paper towels and slice thin.  I don’t cut all the way to the skin.  Serve with capers, crème fraiche and water crackers.   

Twice as Thankful

Two Thanksgiving dinners cooked in three days, one here in Northern California and one in Southern California.  Can you say food coma?  What happened to my Weight Watchers plan?  Pumpkin pie for breakfast, really?

Here is the tally for the two meals:

44 lbs of turkey, 7 lbs of ham, 36 rolls, 4 lbs of sausage, 10 cups of rice, 16 lbs of sweet and russet potatoes, 2 pkgs of marshmallows, 2 quarts of gravy, 6 pies; 4 pumpkin, one pecan and one sweet potato. Plus all the assorted accompaniments.

Thankfully, we left half of one meal in Southern California.  But here in the North, there are looming leftovers. 

 

This Thanksgiving there were changes. I made my first ham ever and with a little help with the glaze, it was delicious.  I made port cranberry sauce that brightened up the meal and got rave reviews. I am most thankful that I can cook a meal and share it with the people I love.  

Ho’omaika’i no ka’u ohana

 

The translation from Hawaiian is "grateful for my family".  My son gave me this on a note last night after dinner.  It prompted me to write this entry today.  I get so busy with life that I forget to stop in the moment and reflect on what matters. Family and love matter.

Thanksgiving. I remember those who are no longer with me and with whom I have wonderful memories of Thanksgivings. Shasta Lake with my Papa and Grandma. The year my Mom picked up a hitchhiker and brought him home for dinner because he was not going to make it to his home in time. Learning to BBQ a turkey from my Mother-in-Law as I have done for the past 36 years.  I miss my Mom’s smoked oyster stuffing and her plate of pickles, olives, wheat thins and more smoked oysters.  The yeasty rolls my Grandma in Shasta made. The pies GG made. The time we took her pecan pie and played Frisbee with it in the front yard because it was so hard!  The year we had three turkeys; smoked, fried and barbecued. The huge family Thanksgivings at GG's with 20-30 family and friends. Now, without her, we all celebrate the holidays separately.   

We let go of  the one thing that kept my GG alive 93 years, family gatherings.   

It is time for new traditions like ham, traveling between North and South and smaller tables.  I will welcome the day when my family grows and the Thanksgiving table gets bigger. I already miss the laughter and the company we shared this year. I count my blessings tonight by remembering my Thanksgivings past and look forward to my Thanksgivings to come.

Remembering Dillon

Black dog.  He had many names, Dillon the Villain, Dillon the tomato-stealing dog, Bud.  He was the best dog ever.  Even that isn’t enough.  He was ours for nine years.  Black as the night we lost him in.  The darkest evening of the year, December 21, 2011.  Six months later, we are still grieving. 

The tears flow easily.  Why did he run and not come back?  What lured him out onto a busy street?  He never wandered.  Who hit him and left him lying there?  It only took a few minutes for him to run off and never come back.

It was after midnight when I opened the door and there was his master, telling me the story, I heard the words, and wondered how we would get through this.  Him especially.  They were close this master and dog.  Shock set in.  The next day and everyday since, I feel the sting of tears.  I forget he’s gone and open the door expecting to see him.  When I see another black lab, I feel the pain of loss.  When I look into his master’s eyes and see the sadness still, I want to cry. 

A dog comes into your life and never ever leaves.  They become a part of you and your family.  We’ve had our share through the years.  Losing each one seemed harder.  We swore we would never love an animal so much that it hurts like this.  But we did.

I want to rush out and replace him.  His master doesn’t.  But his heart does.  Because all a dog can do is, love you back.  Who doesn’t need more love in their life? 

There will be another dog.  However, there will never be another big black, birdy, tomato stealing, biscuit begging, boat fishing, duck hunting, truck riding, and best friend like Dillon.  He was one of a kind.

Coffee and Company

Coffee.  My way.  Hot, strong brew, dark, served with half and half, raw sugar in a mug.

What makes a great cup of coffee is the company.  I have many combinations that make up my favorite cups of coffee.  Sharing coffee with someone or savoring one alone are two of my most loved experiences.  Coffee and company. 

It’s 5:30 am on a Saturday morning.  I have had two cups, my limit.  Manna, nirvana and comfort for my soul.

I have shared thousands of cups of coffee with people I love.  The act of sitting down, looking eye-to-eye, sipping hot soothing liquid while speaking life’s secrets, hopes and desires is how I like my coffee.

Here are some of my favorite cups of coffee

My Mother-in-law’s coffee

My Mother’s coffee

Starbuck’s

Café Luxxe Café Nico

Bayside Church Granite Bay

Duncans Mills Award Winning Iced Coffee

Java City Mocha

Bella Bru Special

Kitchen Beautician Percolated Coffee

Blackwater Chocolate Cappuccino

My Grandma’s coffee

My Mother-in-law poured hers into a saucer to cool.  She drank from a cup with a saucer.  Sometimes instead of cream and sugar, she would put a spoonful of vanilla ice cream in.  I remember the cream and sugar set she used.  Sitting at the padded dining room table, looking out onto her lush landscape she tended, listening to stories of growing up in Hawaii. Coffee after one of her delicious meals.  Family. Laughing.  Singing.  I miss her.

My mother’s coffee.  Strong and hot. Always paper filtered Melitta style, made to order with freshly ground beans.  Usually French roast.  The only downfall was her skim milk.  The conversation centered on what books we had read, movies, music.  Since she moved out of state, I miss her and her coffee. 

Starbuck’s. Coffee with my girls.  Lattes, mochas, grande or venti.  On the go. When they built the first Starbuck’s in Sacramento, Town and Country Village, I remember thinking this would be our place.  And it was. Is. My fondest Starbuck’s memories?  Running through the streets of Nassau headed to Starbuck’s.  Going through the drive through on trips to the beach.  My best friend calling me every year when she has her first pumpkin spice latte.  I remember particularly the first day both of her boys were in school.  She called me from Starbuck’s.  Alone.  Joy.  I took her two boys when they were younger to the drive-through and bought cups of whipped cream with spoons.  Peace in the mini-van.

Café Luxxe in Santa Monica, totally trendy and decadent.  My new favorite cup is a Café Nico, a shot of espresso infused with candied orange and cinnamon. Coffee as an art.  The rosetta, milk foam art. Outrageously expensive but a truly artful cup.  You have to have it once.  I wish I had one right now!

Coffee at Bayside Granite Bay.  Hot and strong.  Starbuck’s brew.  A fitting prelude to the grace I leave with every Sunday. 

Iced coffee.  My Mom always drank iced coffee when I was growing up.  The best iced coffee is at Gold Coast Coffee in Duncans Mills.  Award winning.  They take a tall glass and put whipped cream and raw sugar in the bottom, spreading some up the side of the glass, add ice, pour over hot espresso then fill with half-and-half. 

It is so good.  Perfect.  I remember being there, reaching into a basket thinking it was sugar, and it was condoms.  I laughed all the way to Guerneville.

The first espresso coffee I ever bought came from Java City at 18^th and Capitol.  Driving downtown for mochas.  The old silver van full of kids, others and mine.  The bump on 16^th going out of town.  Summer nights.  The laughter.

With the “Ladies”, we used to go for coffee after dinner.  We tried to stay out long enough for the kids to be in bed by the time we got home.  Though that often meant, “paying the babysitter”.  One night at Bella Bru, someone ordered the Bella Bru Special made with chocolate milk, almond syrup, slivered almonds on top, whipped cream and served in a giant blue coffee cup with a saucer.  I remember how we laughed at the presentation!  It was the largest cup of coffee we had ever seen!  Now, we are home early and most of us can’t drink caffeinated coffee after noon!  But we still laugh when we are together.

I have a friend who calls herself the “Kitchen Beautician”.  She gives perms, dyes and cuts hair at her kitchen table.  She makes coffee in an electric percolator.  You hear it first, and then smell the coffee.  Sitting there with a towel wrapped around your neck, sipping hot coffee and the entertainment, the comedy, the stories, and the laughter.  She is the funniest woman I know and she truly missed her calling when she didn’t try standup comedy.  She is a great friend and all of us who know her count ourselves the lucky ones.  I love you Betty!

The chocolate cappuccino at Blackwater Coffee on Watt Avenue.  Small but so powerful.  Taking one to Mrs. Jenkins at Del Paso Manor was an excuse for me to stop and get one myself.  So chocolate and rich.

Last but not least, my Grandma’s coffee.  Weak, bland, lukewarm.  Flavored water really.  She never liked my coffee nor I hers.  But I drank it because I wanted to be at her kitchen table, by the pool, on the porch, anywhere, with her.  It was never about the coffee for me.  It was always about her.  She was a coffee hoarder too.  She always had extra cans on her shelf.  I used to tease her about her anticipation of a coffee shortage but I appreciated she always bought extra.  She never wanted to run out. Coffee was important to her.  No matter what time of day, she would offer you coffee with a piece of pie, cake, a donut, cookies.  Never just coffee.  I miss coffee with her the most.

Downtown – K St. for Pizza and a Dive

 

            We headed downtown minus two this month to Pizza Rock and Dive Bar.  They sit next door to each other on the K Street Mall.  Everyone and their brother has thrown money at the mall since they cemented the street and stopped cruising in the 70's.  It has never thrived and the attempts to clean it up are not usually successful.  I pass these places twice a day on my light rail commute.  In the morning, they are being power washed to remove the night.  In the evening, couples sit outside and wish they weren’t so close to the sidewalk, light rail and street people.  It doesn’t seem to be a comfortable patio dining experience. 

            How trendy is a bar where a Mermaid swims in a giant aquarium, blowing kisses to the 20-30 something guys holding up their IPhones to take her picture?  I loved it!  Really.  I liked the cave like atmosphere mixed with the Disneyesque background including a pirate’s chest and real tropical fish.  It all works when you are looking in a giant aquarium. The building is long and narrow, dark and cool, divided into three areas; an entry with comfy casual seating, the bar and aquarium with mirrors so you have a view of the swim show no matter where you sit, and the back area where you can plug in your IPod and play your tunes.  It was loud, but good music.

            We ordered cocktails, served with goldfish crackers, cute touch.  We asked when the Mermaid would make an appearance and were told that there is no set schedule to keep it spontaneous.  Then, she appeared.  Haltingly pretty with a killer body. It was hard not to think that she needed a good meal, as her ribs were visible.  She swam, like a Mermaid, turning and waving to the crowd.  Smiling.  In a purple Mermaid costume. It was dramatic and whimsical all at once.  I liked it a lot.  I would certainly go back for the show.   There is something so magical about it.  Remember, I cry at Hallmark commercials. 

            We left and went next door for pizza.  Louder music there.  It was crowded but we were seated quickly.  We had another Mayor sighting.  We laughed that he was following us around town.  He came in with an entourage and was seated at a large table in the middle of the restaurant.  He left before we did.

            With a perfect view of the pizza oven, a Cirigliano imported from Italy, we were primed for pizza.  The pizza oven fire can be seen from outside on the patio.  Inside, the truck hanging out of the wall is impressive.  Also, note the mural by Carlos Lopez on the ceiling.  Pretty cool.  Not a dark restaurant but a bright, lively, loud fun place. I really like the liveliness of this place although it makes conversation a challenge.

            The service, not so great.  One of us ordered a thin crust and got a thick crust and the waiter discouraged her from re-ordering because it would take too long.  To me, that was his problem not hers.  He should have fixed it.  I had the Margherita, which won Tony Gemignani the Pizza World Cup in Italy in 2007.  He won on 6-13-07.  They have a rule that they only make 73 per day using the formula.  6 + 1 = 7 and kept the 3 for 73.  New math.  I don’t care how they figure it, the pizza was so good.  Just San Marzano tomatoes, mozzarella, basil, evoo and sea salt.  So simple, pure and delish.  I would go back and try some of the others.  We all liked the pizza. And the place.  And the Mermaid.

Church Lady

             Yesterday,  I became a Church Lady, the kind that bakes and carries her goods to people who are sick or shut in. But let me give you some background before you think I have really lost it for good.

            I go to church on Sunday, alone.  Not a conventional church, but one for people who don’t like church.  I take from it what I need for the week.  I sit in the bleachers with a few hundred other people, all kinds of people.  Dressed in jeans, shorts, sundresses, flip-flops in casual California beach style.  I go to Bayside of Granite Bay and it has been church to me for the past five years.  It feeds me and lifts me up when I need it the most.  The music rocks me and reminds me that I am alive and that Jesus is too.  I like the anonymity of worshiping with hundreds of people.  It just fits.

            I got up Sunday morning, early.  I can’t help my internal alarm clock. Made coffee, read the paper and baked coffee cakes.   I planned to visit a friend, recently diagnosed with breast cancer and decided to take something baked with me, hence the Church Lady imagery.   I pulled out a package of Bisquick and made coffee cake.  I think this is one of the first recipes I ever made.  I made two, one for home and one to go.

            My friend was happy to see me and I her.  We worked together 8 years ago keeping in touch sporadically through the years. She knows my husband and knew my Grandma.  She is a beautiful woman, inside and out, a supportive wife and loving mother and grandmother.  And she is fun.  One of our most memorable experiences together was a Jimmy Buffett Concert in Mountain View where we wore Bikini T-Shirts that she sewed belly button rings on.  What a blast that entire day and night was! I will never forget sitting in the car in the venue parking lot, eating our Togo’s sandwiches before walking around, when a young man approached the car wearing a grass skirt and a coconut bikini top, carrying an ice chest and a sign that said, “Beer for Boobs”.  His gig was, show me your boobs, take a picture, and you get a beer, Corona.  We just laughed him off but she called her husband and told him we weren’t even out of the car and someone wanted to see our breasts!  Good times. 

            Now she has already had one surgery and is going to have another.  She is dealing with it just the way I knew she would, with humor and the support of her loving husband, family and friends.  We drank tea, ate coffee cake, told stories and listened with our hearts.  She radiated beauty as she sat on the couch telling me about her cancer.  I thought of all the women I know and have met who have battled and won this fight.  My mother of course and just recently the young mothers’ I met fundraising for Komen Race for the Cure.  I told my friend about the 100-year-old woman, a 20-year breast cancer survivor who spoke at the Survivor Ceremony at the Race.  She had some great advice on how to live.  I can’t remember exactly to quote her but I recall she said to use olive oil when you cook.  Have a drink, but not too much.  Eat your vegetables.  Surround yourself with people you love.

Good advice for all of us.

            I left there glad that I had made the trip and happy to see that she is in survivor mode and supported by people who love and care about her.  She did share with me that her mother used to make this coffee cake without the streusel, slice it horizontally, fill it with strawberries and top it with whipped cream.  Sounds yummy.  I wonder if I have two cups left…

Bisquick Coffee Cake - Taken from the back of the box

Cinnamon Struesel

1/3 cup Original Bisquick® mix

1/3 cup packed brown sugar

½ teaspoon firm butter

Coffee Cake

2 cups Original Bisquick® mix

2/3 cup milk or water

2 tablespoons sugar

1 egg

1. Heat oven to 375°F. Grease 9-inch round pan. In small bowl, stir streusel ingredients until crumbly; set aside.
2. In medium bowl, mix coffee cake ingredients until blended. Spread in pan. Sprinkle with streusel.
3. Bake 18 to 22 minutes or until golden brown.

 Did you know that Bisquick has been around since 1931?

Decoration Day

May 28, 2011

            I spent many a Memorial Day weekend visiting the cemetery.  My Grandma called it  “Decoration Day”.  We never bought flowers instead; we went into our own yards and cut whatever was blooming, roses, irises, hydrangea, and greenery.  We filled old coffee cans, mason jars or galvanized buckets with blooms.  My Grandma and I would load the car and go to the cemetery.  We were pricked by thorns and rewarded with the flower scent filling the car. 

            My Pop, Papa and Grandma Coote were there.  Now I add to the list my Grandma.  She and I usually went alone for years before I had children.  Then occasionally my kids would go, under protest.  I gained a respect and a lifelong habit of decorating in the cemetery.

            I do some of my best thinking there.  I’ve had family tell me that the dead people I mourn are not there so why do I go?  Sitting on the bench placed there when my Grandma died, under the ancient oak tree, in the breeze where it is cool even on the hottest Sacramento summer day, I am at peace.  I look to the west and see the graves and to the east, the field often changing my position on the bench as I ponder my worldly problems.

            But back to my visits with my Grandma.  My maternal Grandma Coote was buried in 1968 followed by my Pop in 1976, my Papa in 1986 and the hardest loss for me, my Grandma in 2008.  It still feels raw and emotional.  I had her 22 years longer than any other Grandparent.  Today, May 28th, she would have been 97 years young. She and I went regularly to the cemetery after my Pop died, holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, whenever she wanted to go.

            I go now when I am lost and lonely.  Alone.  I pray, I talk, and I always leave in a better frame of mind than when I first sit on the bench.  I’m not sure if it is the cathartic flow of tears or the heartfelt conversation and prayers but it works.

            I have a job to do there. I clean up when I go.  You could say I have a cemetery routine.  I bring flowers, a broom, a bucket, a couple of towels and a washcloth.  I sweep first and not just my Grandparents markers but also my cousin’s grandparents and my aunt’s.  Then I take the washcloth and wipe things off.  Sometimes I take clippers and a shovel to clean up the edges.  This Decoration Day I walked from the car carrying a broom, a bucket filled with roses and hydrangeas from my yard and some towels.  I was quite a sight.  And this day, I had company.

            I immediately noticed when driving through the iron gate that there were people there.  Many people, in cars, trucks with trailers and uniformed soldiers in white,  walking up and down the rows. I usually only have turkeys as companions, the feathered kind.  A rafter of turkeys live there protected from dogs and man.  I have had to chase them away from “my spot” with a towel so I could sit without them sneaking up on me.  They are creepy looking. Prehistoric.  Somehow they seem at home in the cemetery.

            After cleaning and placing the flowers, I took my seat on the bench.  I watched the people placing white crosses with American flags on the graves of all the veterans, remembering them for Monday’s Memorial Day Services.  It was a beautiful serene sight, in Technicolor, with white uniforms, white crosses, white clouds in the blue sky, green grass and the flags unfurling in the breeze.

 

            I sat there taking in all the movement in a place usually so still.  I saw a truck and trailer pull up.  There were two men riding on the trailer and two in the cab of the truck.  A man got out of the cab, grabbed a cross and a flag and started walking towards me.  I thought they must have checked on their map and forgot someone.  As he approached me, he held out the flag and cross.

            I took it from him and tried to say thank you without choking up but it was not possible.  I told him through tears that it meant a lot to me since my Papa was a veteran but never recognized on Decoration Day.  I told him, he would have been honored.  But it was I who was so touched in the moment, sobbing as he walked away.

            A total stranger, an act of kindness and recognition 25 years overdue.  I sat under the ancient oak, tears falling and memories flooding in.  Maybe that’s why I go. For the memories of the grandparents who adored and treasured me all of my life.  The love and the loss fill me until my tears spill out on the granite and brass.  Another Decoration Day is done.

Not Impressed by The Press

             Some of you will not like what I have to say about The Press.  Those who dined with me agreed it was not the experience expected.  Dining out for me is for a special night or a celebration, not just dining out of the house.  I am an observer of people and places.  When I walk into a restaurant, my senses go into overload.  What do I smell, garlic or fresh baked bread?  Can I see or is it dark like a cavern?  What do I hear, dishes rattling or laughter from diners? How is the greeting, friendly or nonchalant?  From all of those questions, I formulate an overall ambience within minutes, usually before being seated.  Wrong or right, that’s how I do it. 

            When I chose The Press, it was highly recommended.  Everyone I talked to told me I had to go there.  I chose it for our Ladies Night monthly dinner out. Prior to showing up for dinner, I emailed the restaurant and received confirmation of my reservation.  They were very accommodating and welcoming.  When I walked in the door, my first impression was another nearly comatose atmosphere set in under performing lighting, similar to many trendy downtown dining establishments.  Not welcoming or comforting but stating matter-of -fact, “Here we are, like us or not, this is the ambience we have chosen to feed you in.”

            I look at eating as a sensory experience as well.  How does it look, smell, taste?  We decided to order six of the small plates, reasonably priced at 3 for $10.  We were not wowed by flavor or appearance.  The dishes were underserved with no garnish or sauce and looked lonely in their little white plates.     We ordered the focacia and found it odd that they charge $1 for aged balsamic vinegar.  The focaccia was served warm and inviting.  However, the olive oil tasted musty and when I asked the server where it was from, she said it was local.  Not the best we’ve tasted.  I have better olive oil in my cupboard.

            The tzatziki chips were too hard and the dip uneventful.  The octopus salad was good but had too many peppers and onions and not enough octopus.  The piquillo peppers looked bright and inviting on the plate and were yummy, sweet and salty with just the right flavor.  The best of the six we decided.  The onion and bacon crostini was good. Although the potato croquettes had a tasty crunch and soft centered bite, they needed a dipping sauce or more flavor.  They were perfectly cooked.  The celery, blue cheese, dates, and almonds sounded like an exploding taste bite that would scream out yum but they carried a more ho hum flavor.  We ordered a soup and two entrees.  The garlic soup was without cream, yet creamy and full of garlic goodness.  We all laughed at the presentation.  The soup came in an over-sized bowl and seriously could not have had more than a ladle measure in volume for $6.  Very disappointing.  The two pasta’s were a carbonara fettuccine and a shellfish pappardelle.  No whining here.  They were delicate and delish. Overall, the company far exceeded the fare.

            What is it I desire from a restaurant meal?  Trendy, fun, new dining experiences?   I am tired of the same old dinner in the same tired décor with overpriced beverages and under performing food.  Our dinner for four exceeded $80.  Do I expect too much for that price?  Maybe.  But I do expect to be wowed.  Either by the food, the service or the atmosphere.  I wasn’t this time.  I doubt there will be a next time for The Press.

Looking Back at 2010

            At our January 2011 dinner, we looked back at our dining experiences in 2010.  I participated in the dinners at Matteo’s, Cosmopolitan Café, Lion’s Gate, Zocalos, Swabbie’s, California Pizza Kitchen, Kupros Grill and The Cafeteria.  We voted and chose our favorite restaurant for 2010 was Lion’s Gate.  Surprised?  Read my next blog about being wowed!

            There were extenuating circumstances that led us to choose Lion’s Gate.  We knew the chef personally, Michael Wright of the Sheraton.  He was at Lion’s Gate temporarily.  He gave us an exceptional meal. See the blog for March 25, 2010.

            Two of our dining experiences were especially memorable not because of the food but because of the announcements.  For one of us, a grandchild on the way.  Another an engagement. And another an elopement.  Three events, three daughters all so loved.

            We made a list of places to dine in 2011.  Pearl on the River (again but upstairs), Ambience, 1022, Tower Bridge Bistro, The Grange, Roxy and we want to go to Mermaids just to see it.

            We had a mayor sighting and an outdoor dining ant biting.  We celebrated together and we felt loss together.  Joy and sorrow.  Our monthly dinners are our therapy. Our dining expense is far less than what we would pay for professional advice. We can vent our frustrations about work or lack of it, parents, husbands, kids and friendships.  In the next breath, we celebrate those same life experiences and people. 

To my Ladies Night friends:

I am a better person because of you.  You support me when I need it and guide me when I get lost.  You care about me no matter what.  I care about each of you. Unconditional support is what we give each other.  For that, I am grateful.  And a fabulous meal.

Here is to our 2011 Dining and Whining experiences! 

“Domestic Sensualist” Laurie Colwin - Christmas 2010 and Black Cake

Laurie Colwin who authored two books of short stories, five novels and two cookbooks coined the term “domestic sensualist”. For me, I found a label that fit my life in the kitchen. She wrote in “The Lone Pilgrim”,
“Oh domesticity! The wonder of dinner plates and cream pitchers. You know your friends by their ornaments. You want everything. If Mrs. A has her mama’s old jelly mold, you want one too and everything that goes with it—the family, the tradition, the years of having jelly molded in it. We domestic sensualists live in a state of longing, no matter how comfortable our own places are.”

What she gave me in her writing is the approval of my “state of longing” for the old instead of the new. My family would say that I collect things. In my heart, I long for them. The Desert Rose dishes that my Grandma gave me for a wedding present and I just started using this year, 31 years late. The colorful Pyrex bowls of my Mom’s, especially the yellow one that held potato salad. My mother-in-law’s rice paddle and soy sauce cruet that was part of every meal we ate with her. Those pieces of family that adorn my table describe who I am.

Laurie Colwin blessed my cookbook collecting passion that fills bookcases when she wrote in “More Home Cooking”,
“Cookbooks hit you where you live. You want comfort; you want security; you want food; and you want to not be hungry; and not only do you want these basic things fixed, you want it done in a really nice, gentle way that makes you feel loved. That's the big desire, and cookbooks say to the person reading them, 'if you read me, you will be able to do this for yourself and for others. You will make everybody feel better.'

How many times have I picked up a cookbook just for comfort…?
My path to her was through the book “Simple Abundance” by Sarah Ban Breathnach.
I searched a good used bookstore and found “Home Cooking” devouring it in an afternoon. I couldn’t wait to read her fiction and when I did, I found a friend. The kind of friend I wanted sitting at my dining room table sharing conversation and Black Cake. When I read that she was born 11 years before me and died suddenly at age 48, in 1992. I felt a profound loss.

So finally, I reach the topic of this blog. Black Cake. I decided to make it for Christmas. I have Nigella Lawson’s book, “How to be Domestic Goddess” which has a version of Black Cake. On the Internet, I found an original recipe that dated back to Emily Dickinson, adapted by Margery K. Eagan. So with three versions in hand, I began the process in early November 2010. I went to Pedrick Produce on I-80 between Dixon and Davis and picked out the fruit. Stopped at BevMo! picked up the bottle of dark rum and Manischewitz Concord Grape wine and I was ready.

It took 90 minutes to chop the fruit by hand. I loaded it into my sun tea jar and poured in the rum and wine. I felt a sense of accomplishment and a huge dose of expectation. Then I set it on my kitchen counter for 7 weeks. I opened the lid occasionally to make sure it didn’t blow up! It smelled strong. My family wanted to know why on earth, I was making fruitcake. I told them it was for my Mom since I promised to make Black Cake for Christmas. The refrain was, “Why? No one will eat it.” I did not care about that part. I was in for the long haul.

It has been described as not like fruitcake. “There is fruitcake and there is Black cake, which is to fruitcake what the Brahms piano quartets are to Muzak” wrote Laurie Colwin in “Home Cooking”.

On December 14th, I began the cake. It was an opportunity for me to use the giant oversized stainless steel bowl my husband bought I forget how many years ago for the first time. It is a daunting recipe to attempt. It made two 8” rounds, two 10” rounds and a 12” springform pan.

I failed the first step but went forth fearlessly. The first step is to boil brown sugar syrup to the burning point but not farther. I was in fear of burning. Therefore, my cake was brown, not black. I also chose not to cover the baked cake in marzipan or fondant. I used buttercream frosting with some of the almost burnt sugar syrup for flavor.

I wrapped the cooled cakes in parchment and set them out to do what fruitcakes do. Age.
The first taste was on Christmas Eve. I was proud when Mom said she liked it. As for my family, no way. But then, I took one to my Dad’s. It was a huge success. He said everyone that tasted it, liked it. I am not sure if the alcohol content was the reason but his was gone first. I mailed one to a friend of Mom’s. I gave one to a friend of my daughters and then realized I had become that crazy lady with a table full of fruitcakes who sat there trying to decide who she could give them to.

I liked the cake too. It did not taste like fruitcake but was rich, moist, and alcoholic.
Laurie Colwin described it here:
“Its closest relatives are plum pudding and black bun, but it leaves both in thedust. Black cake, like truffles and vintage Burgundy, is deep, complicated and intense. It has taste and aftertaste. It demands to be eaten in a slow, meditative way. The textureis complicated, too – dense and light at the same time.’

I will make it again next year. I will look for the burnt sugar essence since I don’t have it in me to burn sugar. I will mail you one Mom, I promise.

Dining during the Holidaze

It was a challenge to get the five of us to dine this week. In the end, there were three.
We headed downtown and took a quick little adventure down 42nd Street off J. If you are in need of some holiday spirit, as I was, take a drive to look at lights. On these streets in the Fabulous 40’s, it looks like mandatory participation. What a delight it was to see the trees lit up from trunk to tops. I love it! The adjacent streets were decorated and brought oohs and aahs from our vehicle.

For dining, we chose The Cafeteria on 15th and L Streets. We went to valet parking rather than fight the Nutcracker crowd. It was easy. The dining room was festive and bright. The white lights and fixtures sparkled in the room. Our service was excellent. The food was really good. And, we had a mayor sighting to boot!

We started with the fries, a combination of BBQ, Sweet Potato and Garlic accompanied by three sauces of ketchup, an aioli with a bite and a cool creamy version. The dips complemented the fry flavors. We thoroughly enjoyed all aspects and combinations created with the fries and dips. We probably owe an apology to the busser who attempted to remove the tray before we had eaten every morsel. We may have raised our voices to say, we aren't done yet!

The spicy pulled pork sandwich was spicy. It was also moist and flavor filled. The Grilled Cheese Sandwich was a combo of parmesan and sharp New York white cheddar on white bread with a golden toasted crunch. The sandwich could have been served warmer. It came with a tomato soup that did warm the body from the inside with a strong tomato taste and a little kick. The combination of the strong cheeses in the sandwich and the dark red soup made a delightful pairing. To top it off, we all had mixed greens in light vinaigrette to compensate for our attack on the fries.

The overall view from where we sat was cosmopolitan. The modern glass and bright color upholstery were warmed by the wooden floors. Looking through the garage doors and the windows made the room feel big and bright. I loved the light fixture made from a crate the hung over the table behind us. Very creative and whimsical.

The restrooms are big and the three sided sink is interesting until you notice that you can see men in their room and they can see you, only at the hand washing area…a little strange but hey, kind of fun too!

Which brings me to an issue I struggle with. Why does a glass of wine have to cost nine or ten dollars? Two glasses cost more than an entrée. Give me OneSpeed and their little wine glass for $3.50 any night. I have no desire to purchase a bottle, just a glass or two. Both the wines we were served can be purchased locally for less than $15 a bottle.

Overall, a very nice cafeteria with many upgrades and a few surprises.
I recommend you try it. Happy Holidaze!

Treasures

I am counting down the days till 2011. It’s been a difficult year for so many people I know. There is little comfort in knowing I have had company during this economic down turn. I still love blogging about food experiences and I will continue. This blog is a slight deviation from the norm celebrating treasures in my life.

The past two years, Christmas has morphed into less of a gift giving contest and more of a spiritual time for me. Especially this year. As always, my wish is for peace. In the world, my country, my city and my home. Peace.

This has been an especially trying year as my parents depend on me more than ever. It is a challenge for me to give them the time and love they deserve while keeping my head above water so to speak. Life changes.

I have had shared some fabulous meals in restaurants and with friends in their homes this year. I need to mention my chef (and dishwasher) at home. He has wowed us with some great meals and dishes from his garden. The love of my life still loves me too. We have shared so much and I wouldn’t have wanted to do this with anyone else.

My friends’ laughter has sustained me and their meals have filled me. I will never forget the kindness of friends. They have been generous with their time and given when they knew I needed it the most. My hope is to nourish these friendships and guard them like a treasure.

I have the pleasure of young children in my life again. Neighbors and friends who share their children with me. To see their joy at play and hear their laughter is a sure cure for the blues. There is nothing like laughter to clear the brain and jump-start the heart. They are a treasure.

Family dynamics have changed for us. A daughter married. A son-in-law. They found each other and true love. The same kind of love I have had for 34 years. We are blessed by their union. True love is the one true thing I wish for my children to find.

I am proud today especially, of my son. He is playing in a golf marathon to benefit a 7-year old boy with cancer. Some of you received pledge letters and I hope you have the ability to contribute. He hopes to play over 100 holes of golf and has sponsors at $1 a hole or whatever they can give. He gave up a day at work and took his Dad for a caddie; leaving early this morning for a local country club. I am proud of my son’s compassion and dedication to help others. If you would like to contribute, let me know and I will put you in contact with him.

So, my married daughter is living her dreams, my son is following his dream on the golf course and then there is my “kiddle-in-the-middle”. She is my joy. She has been such a help to us financially and emotionally this year. She is always upbeat and full of life. I am grateful everyday for her. She is my light.

I am full of hope for my family and friends that 2011 will bring jobs, peace, abundance and joy. And great food experiences. I’ll keep you posted.

Nick's Cove by Kuleto - Tomales Bay

I went back in time to a place that holds many memories of my Papa, Tomales Bay. He lived in Marshall at a trailer court with a boat ramp and dock. He loved to fish. Period. I know he was happiest when on the bay fishing and exploring. Back in the seventies, it was an undiscovered quiet place full of wildlife and spectacular sunsets. It still is.

There were only two restaurants I remember dining in, Tony’s and Nick’s. Both known for oysters, cold beer and local fishermen. Times have changed the bay and especially Nick’s. It has been rebuilt and reclassified as a destination for the weary bay area high living folks to get out of the city. Rustic yet modern, and with a killer view.

Pat Kuleto spent a fortune, $14 million dollars, to rebuild and rebrand the old Nick's Cove. It is as beautiful as the view from the dock. Inviting on a cool foggy day. The warmth of the fire and the sun as it reached through the fog made for a comfortable dining experience waterside.

We started with drinks, a Fogcutter Irish Coffee described as divine, with fresh whipped cream. The wine list was extensive and expensive, hence the $20 corkage fee. I ordered a beer but changed to the Cuvee after reading the menu and discovering that it was special to Nick’s. It was light, crisp, the color of golden wheat, and warmed me through.

The bread served with butter and Hawaiian red smoked sea salt sprinkled on top was a change from a basket of bread. The combination was creamy and smoky deliciousness. It is hard not to chow down on bread when it is so delightful, with the butter of course.

I ordered the fried oysters and my lunch partner ordered the burger. The oysters were crispy on the outside and briny sweet when eaten. The aioli had the right amount of kick and was a perfect match. The oysters served on a bed of leeks and an assortment of cherry tomatoes, red, yellow and orange with greens. The dressing was sweet and paired well with the tomatoes.

My friend did not fare so well with the burger. She asked me if her punishment was ordering a burger in a fish place. She requested medium rare and it came raw-warm. She attempted to cut it and could not get the knife through the burger. It was so coarsely ground that it could not be cut. It was very unattractive and not appetizing. I called the waiter over and before we could say anything, he asked if she needed it cooked longer. So he knew… She then told him that she could not cut it and showed him the clump of meat. He took it back and we were both surprised when he delivered it with what was burnt cheese. It was still not edible nor could it be cut. The heirloom tomato on the burger was wonderful as were the fries. The waiter did not return to the table and ask how it was until he brought the check, served in an abalone shell. She then told him that she could not eat it. He went to the kitchen and came back to tell her that the chef told him it had been ground twice. Like it was her problem, not the chef’s. That was it. He picked up the check and brought it back to be signed.

When is it okay to point out inferior food? When it is delivered, after the attempt to make it right fails or when the check is delivered? Do you bypass the waiter and ask for a manager? We did not. We left feeling split between excellent and inedible food choices. A restaurant that specializes in fish should serve as good a choice for the non-fish eater. Maybe it was an off day but it was our day there. We could not help but leave disappointed.

What gives Nick’s such an inviting ambiance is the unsurpassed view and the casual elegance of the room. Without the burger, the meal could have been as spectacular as my oysters.

As we left, the hostess asked how our meal was. I told her the story and the person standing with her apologized and said he would have liked to know our dissatisfaction before we were walking out the door. In my opinion, that was the waiter’s job. I told her that. He clearly did not go any extra step to satisfy the customer.
I will go back. I will recommend you try it. Just do not get the burger…

Developing and Devouring

There was a time that I relished developing film and making prints in the darkroom. There was a mystery developing in the tray and I was always surprised by the outcome, good and bad. On a recent trip to Los Angeles I was presented with a gift to attend a Phototasting event at the restaurant, cube. This consisted of a presentation on how to photograph food, settings on the camera and a slideshow of examples. And my favorite part, to taste. I was slightly intimidated at the time and even more so now that I have visited the sites of the other blogger attendees. Please check them out and if in LA, check out cube.

All of these were taken with my Canon SD300, point and shoot.

The first course presented to photograph was heirloom tomato & fresh peach served with imported buffalo mozzarella, 6-yr old balsamic vinegar and fruity olive oil.

The surprise taste of the peach with the tomato was enhanced with the sweet tart balsamic. The real treat was the mozzarella with the olive oil, creamy and earthy.

This black truffle pizza with mozzarella and fried eggs was steaming when it reached the table. It had the truffle flavor with a salty crust and the delight was the egg yolk.

Ok, so I got a little fancy with the pics but you should have seen my competition! I could barely get to the table as these city folk were serious photographers. I sat back and watched as they posed their food and listened to their shutters click.

The entree was pancetta wrapped porchetta on creamy polenta with roasted broccoli.

So far, my husband has presented courses as creative and tasty as these. He cooks with love.

The dessert white nectarine shortcake with lemon verbena and fresh cream. Yummy. The shortcake crunched perfectly in contrast to the cream. The nectarines were so full of the orchard flavor, the scent was amazing. This was all about summer and my favorite dish.

My photos can only improve now that I have experienced Phototasting. Thank you Pam.

Thank you Sarah.

Check out Pam's website
http://www.rantsandcraves.com/2010/08/phototasting-at-cube-cafe-and.html

Ettore's May 1st "I've gotta Beef with Cancer"

On Saturday May 1^st, I encourage you to join me at Ettore’s on Fair Oaks for an event benefitting the RAC PAC team and the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure Saturday May 8^th at Cal Expo.

I have a vested interest in finding a cure for breast cancer. Two beautiful daughters. A mother who is a survivor. A best friend who is a survivor. And too many women that I know are survivors. Thank God they survived. But a cure would eliminate the need for this race and this fundraising effort.

One simple thing you can do is go to Ettore’s this week and purchase a pink ribbon to hang in the restaurant. Do it for the survivors in your life. Do it for your daughters, mothers, and grandmothers. Do it for yourself. Do it for my survivor friends and family.

I need to recognize Ettore. He is an amazing man with piercing eyes and a desire to do all he can for this cause. In my meetings with him during this process, I find him so giving and kind. I urge you to come support a cure and Ettore!

I have been a part of the Komen Sacramento event for 12 years as a participant, committee member, and team captain and team committee member. This year I joined the RAC PAC team, now over 300 strong, started by an amazing woman, Sonia Susac. Her story, young mother of two diagnosed with breast cancer. A survivor who took the journey a step farther by creating this team, nurturing the women on it, fundraising amazing amounts of money and able to get me to do anything she needs to make this a success. I admire her tenacity for the cause. I do this for Sonia.

And my good friend, survivor extraordinaire who has prevailed over circumstances that most women would never survive. A real life survivor of breast cancer and life. She gives so much to all of us who are proud to call her friend. You know who you are and who she is. She is too humble to let me name her. I do this for her.

My mom, who survived and thrived. No sympathy required. She just got it handled and moved on. Strong that Mom of mine. I love you. I do this for you.

Here is the link to the event. I will be there all day. Please join me.

www.ettores.com

Our Favorites from Yesterday and Today

Dining experiences vary depending on the place and the event. When the food is consistently good, so are we loyal. Some stay as favorites and some sadly close. I have a few that my husband and I consider to be our regular places to eat. I am partial as the owners of these places are friends. We enjoy the company as much as the food. If you haven’t tried them, you need to.

Places We Miss
The restaurants in our past that no longer exist may be the sweetest to remember. Via Veneto on Fulton and Hurley. The Fettuccine Alfredo, the atmosphere and the staff are so memorable. We shared some great meals with good friends there. It wasn't there long enough...Teresa’s Mexican Restaurant, first on Northgate then Del Paso. 1976 was the year I first ate from the little trailer like building on Northgate. It was so good. Brown sauce on the cheese enchiladas and my husband’s favorite, Chili Colorado. They moved to Del Paso Blvd. and never took down the decorations from the Chinese restaurant before them. I recall the picture of President Kennedy on the wall, the jukebox that our kids loved to play and the owners fondly. We were there the last night they were serving. The parents wanted to retire and the kids did not want to take over. Our whole family mourns the loss to this day.

Our Favorites Now

Nagato Sukiyaki
We have been dining at Nagato since we moved to our home in 1981. We were there last night! Amazing Japanese home-style food served in a family atmosphere. Their sushi surpasses all that I have tried. Don has a knack for great conversation and the freshest fish you can imagine.

The Buggy Whip
This is where my grandparents used to dine. I remember in the 80’s the lingerie shows at the obligatory two-martini lunch. I have a friend that used to describe The Whip as good food, mean waitresses. The food is great and the staff these days are all friendly and really care that your dining experience exceeds your expectations. Larry followed his father’s example and made his mark as one of the top restaurants in town. They make their soups and salad dressings that are out of this world. Even vegetarians can eat well here. This is a place where consistently the food and service are excellent. Their Prime Rib is superior and on Sundays and Thursdays very reasonable.

Xochimilco Mexican Restaurant
Do not miss the bar-b-q oysters on the weekends. Not traditional for a Mexican restaurant but they are excellent. The food is so good. Homemade flour tortillas and large portions are just part of the joy of eating here. The mariachis and the décor also are a big hit on the weekends. They have fine tequila and yummy margaritas. Frank is the hardest working restaurant and caterer I know. He and his wife, Norma are so friendly and welcoming. We first ate their food when they were on El Camino and followed them to Auburn. We went there first last night to dine but their parking lot was full!

Luigi’s Pizza Original
Although they have a location downtown, much closer, we prefer the old school Luigi's on Stockton Blvd. My parents went there in high school. We have been eating their pizza for 17 years. It was the favorite spot after basketball when our kids were playing. My husband always has the linguica on his pizza and they fry it first for him. They have the crispest salad in town and make all their dressings. But oh the pizza. In our years going, we have seen some funny things there like when the RT bus stops and they run out with a pizza for the driver. It is a great place to watch the Kings if you still do that…

Poor Red’s
I hate to write this. Poor Red’s had always been our favorite. My husband had been going there since the 60’s. I have so many fond memories of birthdays, anniversaries and special dinners there. It was always all about the ribs and Gold Cadillac’s. Back in the day, we would wait hours to eat. Motorcycle rides that ended there on a warm sunny day. The last meal there before it was sold with my beloved Grandma who is now gone. I can go on and on.
However, we went there recently and all our memories were dashed by the food and drink. It is not the same. Sadly, it wasn’t even close. We vowed it would be our last trip so that we could remember it as it was. A lifetime of friends and family gatherings we will never forget. And to all of you who joined with us, “those were the days, my friend”.