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Tonight Angie and Sister and I played word games. I laughed so hard I spit my hibiscus iced tea all over the table. There were no photos taken of that.
Then I came home and made letters in my pattern book. Tomorrow night I am going to draw a bicycle. I have never drawn one before but that is no reason not to try.
I whipped up a little zucchini fritatta today to eat with our walnut-sage toast and blackberry jam. Emphasis on the jam as you can see in the photo below. When it is homemade, 1/3 jam to 2/3 toast is a perfect ratio.
After brunch Sister set to work introducing Angie to the world of fun that is messing around in a visual journal.
She took to it like a duck to water...
...and pretty soon we were all gathered around the table playing in our books. When Angie said "what should I do now", I informed her "watch Mary Ann and just copy what she does, that is what I always do".
The perfect way to spend a Tuesday in July when it's rainy and overcast outside.
My sister brought me a pinwheel. Very fortuitous since I have not yet made my own. I had a feeling she might bring me one... which may or may not be why I held off on starting one. All I know is it looks mighty fine in my window.
I also got my new pattern book broken in.
And then something came over me and I started making onion domed buildings with my new Pentel colorbrush pen.
I tried to stop. But I could not.
Sometimes it's best to just let these things get worked out of your system.
Tomatoes were front and center at the farmers market on Saturday. Lots and lots of pretty tomatoes.
There were also colorful aprons and stylish boots.
But my personal favorites were these two troubadous and their blue grass rendition of "Rolling in my Sweet Baby's Arms".
Melvin was not as impressed as I was. But it could be that he was tired. Accepting lots of pets and compliments on your cuteness can wear a dog out.
I think the blueberries are done for the season. Drat. I was hoping to get more and put some in the freezer. If you haven't made this blueberry breakfast treat yet, and you can still get blueberries in your area.... you owe it to yourself to try it.
I was happy to at least find this jar of blueberry jam. I am putting it in the cupboard and not opening it until February. If I can hold out that long.
If you are going to explore your city, it is important to have an adventurous partner to enjoy it with. If she happens to have a daughter who is available by phone with all sorts of helpful hints and factual tid-bits, so much the better (thanks Laurie Birt!).
Joan and I have already picked out another area of the city to explore in August, including a crepe restaurant to check out. Details will be forthcoming in our thorough report which will be respectfully submitted for your perusal as soon as the assignment has been completed.
It's much cheaper than the price of a movie ticket, as well as being highly entertaining. If you have forgotten how, Allie Grace Moss will be happy to go over the basics with you.
Photo credit: Dottie Moss
Tonight I spy only one solitary fat bud remaining to pop open on the hardy hibiscus. It looks lonely. Could I be experiencing countertransference with a hibiscus? Can you experience countertransference outside the boundaries of a therapeutic relationship ... with a flower?
Don't answer that question. Let's pretend I never asked.
What I really mean is that I have just loved racing outside every evening when I get home from work to see what is happening with my crazy beautiful hibiscus. Our time together for this year is coming to an end and I am going to miss it.
Luckily the petunia in the pot next to the hibiscus is covered with a fresh set of blooms to occupy my mind and see me through my time of inner turmoil.
I have been to cemeteries all over the world. Famous ones like Père Lachaise in Paris and Colonial Park in Savanah Georgia. When we were in Lisbon, my siser and I almost got locked in a cemetery for the night because we did not pay attention to the time when we were poking around. But I had never been to the oldest public cemetery (founded in 1857) in Kansas City Missouri ... until last Friday.
Union Cemetery is a peaceful spot in the middle of the city. There are no flowers on the graves and the grass is pretty tall in some spots. Just enough dilapidated-ness to give you that feeling of moving back in time, but not enough to make it feel neglected. A lovely setting to let the imagination roam as we worked to make out names and puzzle over the details on the markers.
I don't recall seeing markers in the form of a cut tree before. This one told a sad tale of a young woman who apparently died shortly after having a baby.
In case you decide to go, Sexton Cottage is open from 11am to 3pm on Fridays. We were there about 9am. The crows informed us they are in charge of things up on union hill when the cottage is closed.
If you ask they will tell you anything you want to know about the place. Shiny objects appreciated in exchange for information.
I am not sure what has come over me. I used to primarily like to bake. Then I got into soups. Before I knew it the pickling bug hit me. And now I have decided that I should take on convenience items that can easily be found at most grocery stores.
Fresh, delicious, creamy (preservative free)... hummus. I would like to add that while pita is the traditional vehicle for hummus, if you have not tried rice chips... GET SOME! Your gluten intolerant friends and family will thank you.
I like to eat hummus and cucumbers and pretend that I am back in Istanbul at the restaurant just up from Taksim Square where we met George Siriani from Jordan who recommended we order the kebab he had tried. Unfortunately I don't think I can duplicate that recipe, but if you want to try your hand at home-made hummus, here are the details:
1 can chickpeas rinsed and drained
5 Tbsps water
1/4 cup tahini
3 Tbsps fresh lemon juice
1 1/2 Tbsps extra virgin olive oil
1 small garlic clove minced
1/8 tsp ground cumin
Pinch cayenne pepper
1 Tbsp minced fresh parsley or cilantro
Process the chickpeas, water, tahini, lemon juice, oil, garlic, 1/2 tsp salt, cumin, and cayenne in food processor until smooth. Transfer to bowl, cover and refrigerate until the flavors are blended - about an hour. Top with parsley or cilantro just before serving. I love cilantro but in my mind hummus demands parsley.
This past week I got my long anticipated shipment from Dick Blick. The pads of fabriano hot press watercolor paper that I have been waiting for so I could make a new pattern book out of a book I got at a second hand store in Bergen, Norway.
I kept looking at the paper and looking at the book and wishing someone would put it together for me. Yesterday my sister said "oh just go do it already why don't you!' So I did. I marched upstairs and ripped paper, and made signatures, and put together a template, and punched holes, and found my waxed linen thread, and did not stick myself in the finger one single solitary time. That is a first.
I am now ready to go to town making patterns with my new acrylic ink and Dr. Ph Martins tangerine radiant concentrated water color. As soon as I can stop rubbing my hands over the smooth, creamy white pages that is.
The rain on Saturday did not keep my from making my appointed rounds at the farmers market. On my list this week: blueberries, blueberry jam, golden beets, and of course flowers.
I can't remember the name of these flowers. What I do recall is the vase came with flowers in it from Chris when I was still in college living in the dorm in 1980. When they used to page your name over the intercom and say "Carol Moss you have flowers at the desk" and everyone stuck their heads out of their doors and smiled at you as you walked back to your room with your bouquet.
My new blueberry crumb cake turned out like a dream. Packed full of blueberries just like I like it. Moist but not mushy and the nuts and sugar on top provide a nice crunch. I used raw sugar instead of granulated for the topping.
The blueberry lady at the market did not have any jam, nor did I find the golden beets. I saw a recipe last week for Golden Beet and Barley Salad with Rainbow Chard that I want to try. Next week-end will be soon enough. Christy I might need you to send me your blueberry jam recipe as a back up. In case (heaven forbid) I am forced to make my own.
If you want to try the blueberry cake here is the recipe from the July issue of Tastebud.
On the exploration of Kansas City this past Friday, Joan took me by Janssen Place, where the lumber barons lived at the turn of the century. She used to live in Central Hyde Park and my head was spinning this way and that as she pointed things out.
There are examples of Italian Renaissance, Jacobethan Revival, Neoclassical, and Georgian Colonial Revival house styles. I have no idea which is which. Here is what I do know. These houses are impressive. I wished someone would walk outside to shake the tablecloth after breakfast and invite us in, but they did not.
We also drove by "The Teddy Roosevelt House" where he may or may not have lived for awhile and where Earnest Hemingway may or may not have stayed for a period of time. It is best on these types of explorations to focus on innuendo and not concentrate on facts. Except for when it comes to lunch. Lunch must be at a place you are absolutely certain is good.
Keeping that principle in mind, we went to one of my favorite spots in the city. I told you about their grapefruit cake back in February.
I had the gallette of the day (sweet potatoes, tomatoes, yellow squash, sweet onions and smoked blue cheese), Joan had the pannini (ham, bacon, roasted pineapple, cumin cream cheese) and if that wasn't enough we split a piece of strawberry rhubarb pie with homemade vanilla ice cream. Joan is a rhubarb expert. She was raised on it up in North Dakota. She proclaimed this to be an excellent example of what can be done with rhubarb. I don't know anything about rhubarb. But I do know good when I taste it. Holy smokes!
After lunch we went outside and ran up and down the street about 25 times and each did a set of jumping jacks before we got back in the car to continue our day. Listen, if you live in the area and haven't been to YST. Make a date with yourself to GO.
On today's exploration of Kansas City we made it to Clark's Point. An area where the Corps of Discovery, led by Lewis and Clark, camped for 3 days in 1804 on their journey back home. Lovely views from up here, plus nice benches so you can sit and enjoy the sites from a shady spot.
A little treasure right in the middle of the city.
As we explored the area further, I spotted a man unloading supplies from his truck with a practiced hand. While he drove off to park I ran over to confirm my suspicions that he was a painter getting ready to set up.
When I saw him walking back towards his supplies, I couldn't help myself. I had to go and talk to him for a few minutes. He said he was about to get set up. I asked if I could take his picture and he said "sure let me just walk over there". I assured him that this spot was perfect.
When I asked, he told me his name was Wilbur Niewald. How was I to know he was the former chair of painting and printmaking at the Kansas City Art Institute? Actually, I could tell by the confident and unassuming way he went about his business he knew just what he was doing.
I love crossing paths with people like this. Just the kind of greatness I want to run into. At the confluence of the Kansas and Missouri rivers no less.
Paint on Mr. Niewald. Paint on.
Today, in between working, teaching a class, and working some more... I took myself over to The Filling Station Coffee Garage. I ordered a pineapple coconut scone and a cappuccino and settled in for a 30 minute planning session.
I am off on Friday. The best thing about being off on Friday is thinking on Wednesday and Thursday about all the things you might want to do. I am getting up at the crack of dawn and hitting the road. There are several places I have been meaning to investigate and tomorrow is the day. It's going to be like 100 degrees or some such ridiculously hot temperature. Not a problem. My blue toes will keep me thinking cool thoughts.
Oh by the way, that scone was perfect. Craggy on the outside, tender on the inside, not overly sweet, with bits of pineapple and coconut, and every once in a while just a touch of icing. Delectable.
The other day I found myself in the middle of South Park with 5 strangers, sitting on a yoga mat, with my eyes closed, chanting. This is what I saw when I looked up.
I tried not to think about who might be walking by. I successfully relegated all thoughts of chiggers and ants to my unconscious mind. I followed instructions to the best of my ability. And when class was over I went and had my toe nails painted blue.
This is what going to a Kundalini yoga class can do for you.
Just to be sure I was right about peach cobbler being better than peach crisp, I bought some more peaches on Sunday and proceeded to get every inch of my kitchen dirty.
But it was worth it...
... because in this recipe the taste of perfect summer peaches is not all glopped up with too much teeth aching, sugary sweetness.
So even though I was tempted by the peach crumb bars Sharon told me about (and they do look heavenly!) I am going to try and remember how much I like the simple perfection of this recipe with the hint of lemon in the topping that makes me slightly weak in the knees when I smell it baking in the oven.
P.S. When I asked Angie if she liked crisp or cobbler better she said "well Carol to be fair I guess I'd have to try them side by side".
P.P.S. After I told her about the peach crumb bar recipe she said "those sound very delicious, do you want me to taste those too"?
I ventured into the seductive world of oriental and asiatic lilies at the farmers market on Saturday.
Totally different than the peonies and the sunflowers. But oh so pretty. I was worried the smell might be overwhelming, but it turns out the asiatics have no fragrance. Unbeknownst to me I picked a bouquet with the perfect ratio of "smell" to "no-smell". Serendiptidy is a good thing.
This past weekend Chris and I headed out to Bismarck Gardens. We were on the hunt for freshly picked sweet corn.
I am not sure why we haven't been out here more often. You haven't tasted sweet corn until you've had it this fresh.
The folks out there were not camera shy. When I asked if I could take their picture they said "sure, we've had people from Channel 9 out here and the newspaper taking pictures, go right ahead". Then he said "where are you from"? I wanted to make up a big story about how I was on special assignment from National Geographic doing a story on local farms. But I did not.
Ears of corn were flying left and right and over the heads of the sorters as they worked to be sure that their customers only got good ears to take home. Six dollars for a bakers dozen. The best 6 bucks I've spent all week.
When we got home Chris shucked and cleaned and I froze a few ears then blanched and cut kernals off cobs.
I am going to make a batch of esquites in a couple of weeks when we have a bunch of people over for dinner. If I can hold off on eating it before then that is. Come to think of it I probably should do a trial run some time this week and then go back to Bismarck next weekend for another 13 ears.
Today at the farmers market I went for the "Specialty Potatoes". I couldn't pass them by. They were so cute. Little bitty purple, red, and golden nuggets.
I brought them home, put them in a bowl, and contemplated what to make. I thought long and hard about roasting them on a baking sheet with a bit of olive oil, salt and pepper. But it was 93 degrees today. So I went with potato salad - but tried a whole new recipe. Roseanne Cash's Potato Salad - I was intrigued by the name.
I set about soaking, scrubbing, chopping, sprinkling, and stirring.
This recipe calls for dill pickles not the usual sweet pickles. I though it was great. Smooth, creamy, colorful potatoes (I made the pieces big enough so they wouldn't fall apart when I was mixing it all up) and nice crunchy celery and onion, all coated with a tangy dressing. Even Chris (the non dill pickle eater) said it was tasty.
He might have been lying to make me feel good. But I doubt it. He is usually fairly honest when it comes to judging my culinary adventures. Someday I will tell you about the Paprika Chicken I made in the first year we were married.
I was happy in May when I could see evidence that my hardy hibiscus had survived the winter on the back porch in a pot with the tulips.
I was grateful in June when I returned from South Dakota to see that it thrived while I was gone, despite a lack of watering other than rain.
I was excited 2 nights ago when I saw the big fat buds had produced some pink color and were starting to open.
I was delighted to see the fancy pants petals had unfurled themselves tonight when I arrived home.
For awhile there will be pretty blooms every single day! The hardy hibiscus is not one bit shy about being the best looking girl on the block when she is in her prime.
Last week I watched with curiosity as the teenaged boy across the street worked in his driveway, putting together what I thought was a bicycle. Who orders a bicycle and puts it together these days? That's like a Sears & Roebuck house. Non-existent in 2013.
Today after work, while I was sitting on the porch drinking an iced coffee and talking over my day with Lewis, the puzzle pieces came together.
The mom of the house came out with her 8 or 9 year old daughter who has a learning disability and carefully helped her get on the bike that also has 2 BIG back wheels. She showed her how to pedal down the sidewalk to the driveway next door, then turn around in the street and return to her driveway. All the while she clapped and occasionally provided a steadying hand. Then the grandmother came outside and walked alongside as they did another loop. She was cheerleader #2 - clapping and encouraging as well. That girl was smiling like nobody's business. A combination of pure triumph and jubilation on her face.
It was all I could do not to run down my driveway and hoot and holler and clap too. But I restrained myself. It was a family thing. Instead, I just sat on the porch and smiled at her victory.
And that is what I call a good way to end a day.
You know how you hate it when you see beautiful light hitting something and you take a picture of it and what your eye saw and what the camera took were not the same thing? That did NOT happen to me tonight.
Tonight our optic nerves were on the same wave length. Our ISO's were in synch. Me and the camera had a mind-meld. We were in harmony. Yada yada and blah-dee-blah. What I mean to say is the sunflowers from Saturday mornings' farmers market were more beautiful on Tuesday night at 8:15pm with the light from the west filtering through the blinds and onto the table than they were on Saturday morning.
I am showing you so you won't have to take my word for it. Not that I doubt that you would.
You either love beets or you hate beets. There is really no middle ground in the beet world. For those of you who hate them, I feel fairly certain I can promise you that this will be the only beet post I do for the rest of the year. If you love beets, contact me by e-mail and we can swap stories of beet love there.
So I had these beautiful beets from the farmers market that I hadn't done anything with yet.
I usually love to bake or roast beets but since it's summer and I have become a professional pickler (in my own mind) I decided I should make pickled beets.
So, I rinsed them off, popped them in a pan with water, brought them to a boil, cooked them until they seemed done, then slipped the skins off and cut off the ends. Aren't the pretty? Poor, poor, misunderstood beets. So beautiful and yet so maligned. I sliced them up and put them in this little jar and poured the pickling liquid over them.
Do you think it's possible to eat too many pickled things? I don't see how it could be. It's hot here tonight. Hot and humid. I am thinking that some cold pickled beets, pretzels, and a summer shandy could be THE perfect supper.
This weekend I took these beautiful peaches and turned them into a peach crisp and in doing so learned something very important.
I think I may like peach cobbler better than peach crisp. Don't get me wrong. The crisp will get eaten and Angie already told me she is looking forward to getting some tomorrow. But I like the cakey quality of the cobbler over the sticky topping of the crisp. It's not quite as sweet and the flavor of the peaches comes through a little bit better.
I am pretty sure this is all about my palate being more refined now then it was the last time I made a crisp? If you have a peach crisp recipe you think will change my mind. I'd love to hear about it.
Rhubarb chard, plums, toe-tapping tunes, friends, blackberries, and lilies were on the agenda at the farmers market today in Lawrence, Kansas.
I enjoyed all of these but came home with an armload of sunflowers.
I am pretty sure that a bunch of big, bright, cheery flowers are just what I need to kick this summer cold that has befallen me. I read somewhere that sunflower roots have healing properties. Roots or no roots, I feel better just looking at them.
We cooked up a whole bunch of good summer eats on the 4th of July. Good summer weekend vittles. Things I will be repeating as the summer wears on.
Burgers by Chris, grilled zucchini from the Pioneer Woman's recent post on her 4th of July favorite foods, cabbage and corn slaw with cilantro and orange from epicurous. I'll just slip the recipe in here because it's so easy and you are going to want to try it. It is light, colorful, summery, AND delicious! Shredded cabbage, cilantro, corn, a little shredded carrot, and sliced green onions dressed with 1/3 cup each frozen orange juice concentrate, rice wine vinegar, vegetable oil, plus salt and pepper.
There are so many beautiful summer vegetables out there right now. My chopping board is out all the time. Pickled vegetables above are my new go-to summer side salad (recipe from Smitten Kitchen). Well that and the cucumbers and red onions I made last week.
I was glad the meal turned out so good because even though Chris got the tripod all set up for me the fireworks picture-taking was a bust as you can see below. This is what your pictures look like when you are shooting through the upstairs window because you hate crowds and are too lazy to go to a proper display where you might have a chance to see some fireworks to photograph.
I have no one to blame but myself.
Hanging up a pair of pleated fans for the 4th of July might sound simple. But it is not. It involves tools, ladders, caulk, eye hooks, a hammer drill, and beer.
Not to mention the project manager, a supervisor who can provide timely feedback, and the photographer to capture it all on film.
I don't know for sure where Chris (project manager) got the idea this is something we should do. But I (photographer) was 100% supportive and left all feedback providing to Lewis (project supervisor).
Truth be told, I have thought for a long time that we needed to kick the decorating on the 4th up a notch from just the flags in the planters.
Besides, now that those eye hooks are permanently affixed in the stucco, imagine what other things I can hang up there.
Tuesday I fixed a poached egg to eat with left-over risotto for breakfast, climbed on top of the rock wall out back to examine the purple cone flowers, put the finishing touches on a flat argyle sweater pattern in my art journal, watched a cat take a nap, put some flowers in a vase, and collected the mail.
All that PLUS I took a "sun flow" yoga class. My joints loved it and I will be repeating that experience again very soon. Hopefully next time I will not lose my balance while gazing upward during tree pose and sort of bump into the man on the mat next to mine. I didn't make him fall or anything and the teacher assured me it was quite normal.
At least once a summer I have to make ice box cheesecake. I have told you about it before and provided the recipe here.
Since it's already July, and I haven't made it yet, I decided I better do it today. Sort of a practice run for when Mary Ann comes later this summer to see Angie. I am sure she will want me to make it to sustain us during the monopoly marathon that is a requirement for all visits.
I called Angie to tell her I had made it and was going to bring her some. She said it sounded delicious. The phone rang about a minute after I hung up from talking to her.
Angie: Carol when did you say you were bringing the ice box cheese cake? I want to write it down so I won't forget.
I am starting to get into a 4th of July frame of mind. It began last week on a 2 lane road in a small town somewhere north of Tonganoxie but before I reached Atchison.
Can you say Americana? I did not look at a map before I set out for Highland. I plugged the final destination address into my Garmin and did not do any second guessing. Somehow it figured out that I wanted to take the nostalgia route.
It was a magical trip. I was in the moment. Not wanting to be anywhere else but right where I was. I made friends with these cows who said I should come back when they had babies to photograph. I agreed.
Meanwhile, back in Lawrence, the fireworks stands are up. I am so glad they cooperated with the red, white, and blue theme I have going on here today.
