oh summer

stop...

Don't dash away so fast. Take off your coat and stay awhile...

I'm off to work today and Callum starts school next week. Too soon, too soon. It may take me a bit to get back in the school/work/blogging groove, so bear with me a bit. I'll figure it out sharpish.

(And isn't that a nice photo? It's (duh) a stopsign near the Knossos Palace on Crete.)

guest author, or recipe Tuesday comes a day early

The Man:

The Sauce:

The Recipe:

Alfie’s Famous Cooked All Day

Or as Long as You Want To

Spaghetti Sauce Recipe

First, we have to establish something: Mies van der Rohe is a wuss. More is More. This goes for seasoning, garlic, brown sugar, etc., etc.

Ingredients

Wine—a nice merlot or a dago red

Big old garlic—I’m never sure, is a “clove of garlic” one of those pieces that break of the big round thing? Doesn’t matter. Use the big old round thing.

Onion—red or white.

Mushrooms—I prefer baby bellas, but doesn’t really matter.

Marsala wine—real wine, never, not ever, cooking wine. If you can’t drink it, it shouldn’t go into your food.

Tomato Paste and Sauce. Large cans (see “Mies van der Rohe” above)

Depending on how rigid you are you can use a commercially prepared marsala or marinara sauce—all of us Top Chefs use one you can purchase at The Fresh Market

Dark brown sugar

Basil

Oregano

Kosher or Gourmet Salt

Freshly ground black pepper.

First go to Bed, Bath and Beyond or any kitchen supply store and purchase a garlic peeler (one of those flexible plastic things). You’ll thank me for it later.

Once back home peel the garlic and cut the segments (cloves?) into about quarters. Chop the onion—I like fairly large pieces in my sauce.

Sauté garlic and onion in Extra Virgin Olive Oil. While that is making your kitchen smell pleasant, thoroughly wash and dry the mushrooms and pour yourself a glass of merlot or dago red to make the cooking go easier.

Add about ¾ of the box of mushrooms and continue sautéing.

When they look done add a generous amount of Marsala wine. Let this delicious-smelling mess cook until veggies absorb some of the wine.

Add the big bottle of prepared sauce if you decide to go that route—I used “Rao’s Homemade” last time and it was quite nice.

Add tomato paste and sauce.

Add brown sugar—as much as you want; it is good for you. I know in The Godfather, Clemenza said brown sugar was his secret ingredient, but I started using it when he was still in Sicily.

Add generous amounts of Oregano and Basil. Dash of salt and pepper.

Bring to simmer, cover and cook as long as you want, the longer the better, stirring occasionally, correcting seasoning and drinking your wine. If it is too thick (I like mine thick) add some more tomato sauce and/or Marsala.

The sauce can be served with chicken or you can brown 1—1 ½ lb. of ground chuck. Drain the beef and add it to the sauce to cook the whole time.

This works well on any pasta—I prefer whole wheat linguini or spaghetti.

peach pie at morning, breakfast take warning

Tomorrow is the third anniversary of the death of my maternal grandmother, Grandma Mercedes. She'd been very ill, and my poor mom had been from Virginia to Illinois to Tennessee to see Grandma through what felt to be the worst of some serious times. Mom had left her to come home to Tennessee for a bit and when she called me late in the afternoon she said, "Well, she did die." It seemed at the time that she should add, "...after all."

After all. After all that.

My grandmother's death came at a very dark and turbulent time in my family. It was the kick-off to some even worse times, and I have to say that even now we're a little up and a little down. Not healed by a longshot. My mom once commented that as an only child I had my grandparents as immediate family instead of brothers and sisters. This death, the middle of three that would take place in the too-short span of a year, was the halfway point of losing a chunk of my immediate family. (My maternal grandfather died when I was two, and I'm sad to say I have no memories of him. Only stories about his life and death. It's funny how I cherish the memories even of the deaths of my grandparents.) With the rest of my family falling apart around me, I clung to Neel and Callum like nobody's business and still couldn't avoid sinking into a despair so deep that even now I'm not sure I've completely clawed my way out.

The rituals of viewing and funeral for my grandmother were appalling and farcical. Great literary fodder, I know that for sure, but at the risk of those relatives I found so offensive stumbling across my little corner of the internet, I'll not report them here. Her funeral was not the chance to say good-bye that those of my other grandparent's had been and would be. I said good-bye to Grandma Mercedes during the regular Sunday service the day after the funeral, later that afternoon when my mom and I escaped her small apartment to sit for hours under the shade of the huge trees that lend such majesty to the place where she is buried, and when I slept in her bed, surrounded by her familiar scent a scant month later as my mom and I worked together to clear out her apartment.

The Buddhists have a great way with ceremonies and rituals, and I find a lot of comfort in the Ceremony for the Deceased (Found in The Plum Village Chanting and Recitation Book compiled by Thich Nhat Hanh...or as Lucy likes to say, "Tick Not On."). A particularly lovley part is the Mindfulness of the Deceased near the end.

Brothers and Sisters, it is time to bring to mind Mercedes and to send the energy of loving kindness and compassion to her. Let us sit and enjoy our breathing for a moment, allowing Mercedes to be present with us now.

Brothers and Sisters, please listen. The peace and joy of the entire world, including the worlds of the living and the dead, depend on our own peace and joy in this moment. With all our heart and one-pointed mind, let us begin anew for the benefit of ourselves and our beloved ones.

I love the idea of ritual in theory, it's the practice that I'm not so good at. I never pay close enough attention to the calendar to get the timing right, and just like with the energy-clearing and bell-ringing, I tend to feel a little self-conscious. I thought of my grandmother a lot as I peeled peaches for this peach pie. Our last visit with her was in 2003, a year before she died. We always seemed to visit in summer, peach time. And every time we visited, we'd drive down the lolling hills of the Illinois countryside to some remote orchard and bring home bushels of peaches. Drunk, by the time we made it home, on their scent alone. And then it was my mom and grandma peeling, peeling, peeling, adding sugar and nutmeg and rolling out pie crust.

This pie, a "Peaches and Cream" version came from a recipe given to Neel by a colleague. It couldn't be simpler.

1 piecrust

3 C sliced peaches

2/3 C sugar

1/4 C flour

1/4 t ground nutmeg

1 C whipping cream

1/4 C sliced almonds

Place crust in pan and preheat oven to 400. Toss peach slices with sugar, flour and nutmeg and pour into crust. Pour cream over peaches and bake 40 minutes. When cream is almost set and very lightly golden, sprinkle almonds over the pie and bake 10 minutes more. Pie should be fully set and almonds lightly toasted.

My grandmother was an amazing cook and baker, the kind who could tell you the ingredients of a dish by taste alone. She was never one to scoff at a frozen pie crust, and I think she would have liked this little pie. It felt really lovely to think about her as I peeled those peaches, the very taste of them bringing me right back into her kitchen. As mindful of her as the Ceremony for the Deceased. The smell, the slick slide of my peeler against the skin and the peach in my hand. The glistening orange orbs dotting my conutertop. It's close to her. Almost close enough.

Putting these peaches in her cobbler would make it even closer.

3 C flour

1.5 C Shortening

1 t salt

Beat together, then beat in 1 egg, 6 T cold water and 1 t vinegar. Add a little flour to handle. Refrigeration helps handling consistency. Should make a top and a bottom crust.

We'll try this over the weekend, along with some piecrust cookies, because the best thing about cobbler is the crust. And the best pie crust is my grandmas.

manpron

All my dad wanted for his birthday was an apron, and being the duitiful daughter that I am, I hurried up and complied. A month and a half late (don't worry, he still got hooked up on the actual day), here it is! And here also is Neel, bravely man-modeling it for me. I first said, cherrily, "Let's go in the front yard!" Yeah, that didn't go over too well, but wouldn't you know, as soon as we walked out into the backyard, our neighbor Tyler came over. Sorry Neel!

Okay, unfortunately it's early and I'm sketchy on the details, but this fabric is an Egyptian motif that I got...somewhere, I need to dig up my receipt. My dad digs the pyramids, so I thought this was a good choice, plus the colors and subtle lotusy-patchwork print seemed right up his alley.

Like Callum's, only man-sized, this apron reverses to a basic chambray blue.

I ordered two different Egyptian prints, but they didn't really feel comfortable together, so I cut out some of the pattern from the second print (again, from the source to be named later) to do an inset on our blue side.

Here, looking a bit rumpled (much like me at the moment, I suppose), it is.

So obviously, it's a basic bib apron. The pattern is mine, and I seem...seem to be getting the hang of this thing. Happy birthday, Dad! Here's to many batches of Alfie's Famous Cooked All Day Spaghetti Sauce.

meet me for lunch

We have a great little throwback diner in town called Doumar's. It's a place we get to every few months or so, and we met Neel for lunch here yesterday.

Doumar's is a local landmark. It's been around for over a hundred years and is home to the machine that made the first-ever ice cream cone. It's pure vintage in here, from the orange leatherette booths and barstools to the hairnets on the waitresses.

Callum likes to sit at the bar, I like the tiny booths, and sometimes we get served in the car by the carhops...no roller skates.

If I don't order a milkshake ("drugstore thin" for 10 cents extra), I usually have one of their famous limeades. These are so popular that the cups filled with crushed limes are lined up along the counter waiting for the lunch rush. Callum hasn't liked the limeades in the past, but after he ordered water yesterday, he suddenly decided that they were good and offered to share mine.

Your meal comes like this: piles of saran-wrapped burgers and fries, plastic forks and lots of napkins. If you go to Doumar's, you should consider the "famous, cheese on both sides" cheeseburger, the also-famous pork barbeque, minced with slaw, or the BLT where they deep fry the bacon. Or all three.

You'll still spend less that $20, and have money left over for a lime sherbet.