Transitions

We’re stuck on the edge right now. Daily temperatures are reaching up to snag the hemline of summer’s skirt and hold her in place while comforting lentil and pumpkin soups are beckoning from cold-weather kitchens. Our kids are back in school and once again, have well established routines. It’s time to take inventory of the yard, clean it up and plant some winter flowers. I want to go hiking in the middle of a Saturday without risk of heat stroke and dehydration. I want the elections to be history. This year I’m ready for change but sometimes transitions are more difficult.

Heading into Autumn

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Imitation Being the Highest Form

We all have food traditions – recipes that are woven into our holiday and heritage celebrations. They’ve been handed to us with instructions scratched in the margins of cookbooks, on dog-eared recipe cards, or sometimes via hands-on kitchen instruction. They have names like Elsie’s Cranberry Ice, Grandad’s Horseradish Sauce or other words that indicate the culinary lineage.

Cookbook Corner in My Kitchen

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Picnics with Papas

Baked. Fried. Crisped. Mashed. Scalloped. Hashed and Browned. I have a thing for potatoes. They’ve graced our table since I was born and my early aspirations to be a pilot were simply because I was certain that those were mashed potatoes dotting the sky.

Mashed?

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Happy Birthday!

My sister recently sent me an email looking for advice on a gift for her soon-to-be 16 year old. My reply? Uh, we’re not that big on birthdays.

This View is a Gift

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Oniondated!

The task of the poet is often to create the extraordinary from something household and mundane. Perhaps this is the reason the onion has been the focus of so many poems. Pablo Neruda wrote them as crystalline orbs holding magic within their layers. But today the final stanza of a Margaret Clark poem most appeals to me:

Onions
cannot help being metaphors; they would rather stay
mysteries in the moist soil. They would rather I unwrap
myself. If I could, I tell them through the blur, I would.

Worthy of Poetry?

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Kasundi Sunday

You already know that my family is eggplant challenged. While I adore the firm meaty vegetable that takes on other flavors, I’m alone in my own home. I’ve managed to create a few acceptable dishes over the years but realistically, my family wants it off the menu.

At the Center of the Recipe

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Summer Solstice

It is the time of year when the sun’s rays are directly overhead at 23.5 degrees North of the equator providing the longest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere and a signal that summer has begun. Gardens are blooming. School’s out. Turn on the sprinklers. Eat a popsicle.

Taking the Cake

Think of this as a who dunnit or perhaps who didn’t do it.

Upside Down Apricot Strawberry

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Size Matters

Asparagus?

One thing that caused me to want to eat asparagus even more was Barbara Kingsolver’s description of creating an asparagus bed on her farm when she moved to North Carolina. Her depiction of soil prep and care and the fruits of the effort was worthy. When I was about 7 years old, I remember my parents enthusiastically welcoming my discovery of wild asparagus growing at the creek bed behind our home.

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Celtic Controversy and Cabbage

This fellow St. Patrick has been celebrated in this country for more than 200 years and in Ireland for close to 2000. We have a storybook on my son’s bookshelf that we’ve read over the years which tells the most familiar story. It’s about a young boy named Maewyn who was born to a tax collector in the Roman British empire. This version of the story tells that he was sold into slavery and shipped to Ireland. His captors forced him to herd sheep and he did so until he escaped 6 years later.

Modern Rendition of Maewyn

Modern Rendition of Maewyn

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