Category Archives: People

People, Recipes

A Rainy Day Picnic Last Weekend: Includes a Recipe for Southwest Nacho Casserole

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Last Sunday we had our Memorial Day gathering, and it was a good thing we had planned to have the meal inside. Rain had been predicted, and rain we had. Although it was disappointing to be inside and even more disappointing not to have Clif’s grilled bread, we nonetheless had a cozy gathering at our little house in the big woods.

The feast
The feast

There were eight of us—Mike, Shannon, Alice, Joel, Sybil, Diane, Clif and me—-and we know each so well that finding something to talk about is never a problem. We all love movies, books, and food, and those three things alone can keep us going for hours. Throw in a handful of talk about family, a pinch of politics, as well as a dash of sports, and a whole afternoon can pass in a snap.

This gathering was a potluck, and I must say that I am blessed to have friends (and a daughter!) who are very good cooks. Alice brought a sweet potato tart; Shannon, a wheat berry, dill, pine nut and mozzarella salad; and Diane, a beet, quinoa, and feta salad. I made black bean burgers and a Southwest nacho casserole. For dessert, Sybil made an oh-so-elegant flan, rich yet smooth. And then there were Mom’s gingersnaps.

Sybil's flan
Sybil’s flan

“Did she freeze some for you to thaw for your gatherings?” Sybil teased me when I called them Mom’s gingersnaps.

No, no, I admitted with a smile, they are mine, made fresh the day before. But somehow, whenever I make those gingersnaps, it feels as though they are Mom’s cookies rather than mine. Maybe it’s because she made them so often that they became her speciality. Maybe it’s because I use her hand-written recipe to make the cookies. Or maybe, as Ida LeClair might say, it’s completely “woo-woo” and I am channelling my mother. Who knows?

By the end of the day, after coffee and tea, those gingersnaps were mostly gone, and the few that were left went home in little baggies with our guests. I promised everyone a rain check, when with any luck, the weather would be better, and we could eat outside and have grilled bread. “Good!” Diane said. “I have to have that grilled bread at least once a year.”

“Mark your calendars for the Fourth of July,” I replied.

Everyone nodded. Duly noted. Our friend Jill, who lives part-time in Michigan and part-time in Maine, will also be invited for our Fourth of July gathering.

Right now, the Fourth of July seems far away. We have a whole month to go before we get there, with lots happening in June. In the meantime, there will be casual suppers, some with just Clif and me and some with a few friends, but all will be enjoyed on the patio if the weather allows.

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Food for Thought, People

Lunch with Laura and Shari and Some Thoughts about Cooking

Laura's lunch
Laura’s luscious lunch

On Monday, I went to my friend Laura’s house for lunch, and she served spicy beans, barbecued sausage, and seaweed salad. What a lunch! Much different from my usual yogurt and crackers or peanut butter on English muffin. (Sometimes I get really crazy and have an egg.) I also got to meet Shari Burke, who writes a snappy blog called Craftivist in the Kitchen.

We talked of many things, but because Laura, Shari, and I are all extremely interested in food—some might call it obsessed, and they wouldn’t be too far off the mark—the conversation quite naturally turned to cooking and eating. I told them how I was reading Cooked by Michael Pollan and Maine Home Cooking by Sandra Oliver and how the two books both agreed and disagreed with each other.

Michael Pollan thinks that home-cooked meals are the way to go—as does Sandra Oliver—-but Pollan believes that there is too little cooking happening in most American homes. Sandra Oliver, on the other hand, thinks that there is, in fact, a lot of cooking happening in many households but that it is simple, unfussy cooking far removed from the fancy techniques touted in many books and magazines and on some of the cooking shows.

What Sandra Oliver wrote in her introduction to Maine Home Cooking is so worthwhile that I’m going to share it here, even though when I was talking to Laura and Shari, I could only paraphrase Oliver’s sentiment: “I hear a lot about how no one cooks any more. Some of my friends even tell me they don’t cook, but I notice they are feeding their families and they look reasonably healthy to me. When I ask them how they do it, they say, ‘Well, I just roast a chicken and boil some potatoes and make a salad.’ Lots more people cook in a modest, daily, simple fashion than the professionals give us credit for.”

I totally agree with Oliver’s take on American cooking. One only has to go into a supermarket, those hum-drum places where most Americans shop, to realize that Oliver is completely right. I know there is a lot of junky, processed food in the supermarket. I’ll even confess that I like some of that junky food, and I have a stash of Twizzlers in my food closet. However, along with all the junky food that isn’t good for you, there is plenty of fresh, nutritious food. To name just some of the many choices: Lettuce, broccoli, mushrooms, and carrots. Cheese, yogurt, chicken, and tofu. Flour, oil, salt, and baking powder. Peanuts, walnuts, and cashews. Black beans, garbanzo beans, kidney beans. Garlic. Onions. Apples. Bananas. Oranges. (I’m essentially going through my own shopping list, and I’ll stop here.)

All the food I listed plus many other healthy choices are in abundant profusion, and if people were only buying Hamburger Helper and boxed macaroni and cheese, then the selection of healthy food would be much smaller than it is in most grocery stores. The abundance suggests that many people—indeed most, I would posit—are often buying simple but healthy food to cook for themselves and their families. (And sure, they also throw in a bag or two of chips.)

And why don’t people think they are cooking? I suppose it’s because, as Oliver suggests, they are not using “twenty-seven fancy ingredients and spending half the day in the kitchen.” I do want to make it clear that I think there is a place for “fancy” cooks and for chefs who have elevated cooking to an art. I admire them, but it does a disservice to everyday cooks to look down on simple ingredients and to not consider it cooking to serve chicken, potatoes, and salad for supper. I hope we can, at some point, move beyond this either/or attitude to acknowledge that both simple and complex cooking have their place in our culture.

Anyway, how wonderful it was to talk to Shari and Laura and then to use the conversation as a springing point for something that has been on my mind for quite a while. I look forward to our next get together.

Food for the Soul, People

Mother’s Day 2013

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img_3455On this year’s Mother’s Day, there was a small but jolly gathering at the little house in the big woods. Our daughter Shannon and her dog, Holly, came for a visit and for brunch. (Unfortunately our other daughter, Dee, who lives in New York, couldn’t join us, and Mike, Shannon’s husband, had to work.)

This is a perfect time to be a braggy old mom, and I’m not going to hold back. Shannon has become such an accomplished cook. For brunch she brought French toast that had been soaked in an egg and milk mixture that had just a hint of orange. The toasts were baked and then glazed with a crunchy, melted sugar topping. Oh my, they were good. We also had home fries and bacon, courtesy of my husband, Clif, as well as melon, blueberries, and strawberries. What a feast!

The brunch table
The brunch table
Those French toasts
Those French toasts

After brunch, Shannon and I took the dogs for a walk on a trail in the woods behind our house. (Clif’s leg was bothering him, so he stayed home.) Up the ravine we went. The dogs ran and chased each other. A little frog jumped out of their way, and below us, the stream rushed on its course to the Upper Narrows Pond.

Ready for our walk
Ready for our walk

The day was damp, and when we came back, our feet were thoroughly soaked. Off came the wet shoes, and it was time for tea and dessert, flourless chocolate cupcakes—made by Shannon—served with a whipped cream flavored with white chocolate and peppermint. I had two of them. I couldn’t resist. Flourless cakes are my favorite kind of cakes, and these cupcakes are moist and rich and delectable. Besides, it was Mother’s Day and therefore a cheat day for me. This was no time to be dieting.

Dessert!
Dessert!

Dee and Shannon had given me money to buy flowers for my garden, and after dessert, Shannon and I went to Augusta, where I bought begonias, impatiens, and dwarf snap dragons.

Flowers for the garden
Flowers for the garden

We are a family that absolutely loves these simple but lovely get-togethers. Cooking for each other is one of the ways we express our affection. As I recently remarked to my cousin Carol, food does more than nourish the body. It nourishes the spirit as well.

My spirit was thoroughly nourished on this year’s Mother’s Day. The only way it could have been any better would have been to have Dee and Mike there, too.

Nature, People

Lunch at Kennebec Pizza Company

Yesterday, I went to Hallowell—surely the only town in central Maine that can lay any claim to being quaint—to meet my friend Sybil for lunch.

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The forsythias were in full bloom, a glorious burst of yellow.

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We ate at a tiny pizza shop called Kennebec Pizza Company, which is on the main street.

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Sybil has been to Kennebec Pizza before, and she raved about the bacon pizza. As luck would have it, bacon pizza was available by the slice. “It’s my favorite, too,” said the young man who was making pizza. “So I always have it ready.” Sybil couldn’t resist this pizza and ordered a slice. I did the same.

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Let’s just say I was happy that I followed Sybil in her choice of pizza. The bacon, cut very fine, added a salty—but not too salty—smoked taste to this pizza with its crisp crust. I whipped through one piece, and I had to use extreme self-control not to get another one.  (Susan Poulin, if you are reading this, you might want to make plans to stop at Kennebec Pizza the next time you are in central Maine. I know how much you love bacon.) The slices sell for $2 each, and if this isn’t the best lunch deal in the area, then it must come close.

Sybil and I talked about the usual things we love—movies, books, writing, our families. After we had eaten, we went for a walk by the Kennebec River, where we watched a pair of ducks—mallards, I think—-swim in the still, dark blue water. They were searching for their own lunch. I hope it was as good as ours.

 

 

 

 

People

Shannon’s Birthday—A Recycled Present

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img_3368As I’ve noted many times, our youngest daughter, Shannon has her birthday on one of the coolest days of the year—Earth Day. I would be lying if I said this was planned. As with most babies, her birthday was completely serendipitous.

In the spirit of Earth Day, we decided to incorporate recycling into at least one of Shannon’s presents, and I had planned ahead for this. I am a chocolate hound, and my tradition after Valentine’s Day is to go to Rite Aid and stock up on sale candy. A particularly good find—75 percent off—was a heart-shaped box filled with turtles—chocolate, caramel, and nuts, one of my favorite combinations. After I ate the chocolates I thought how much fun it would be to recycle this pretty box for Shannon’s birthday.

Shannon loves homemade peanut butter cups, and most years we make some to give to her on her birthday. The heart-shaped box had a plastic tray for the turtles that was perfect for the peanut butter cups. Then, I thought, how about making a paper heart to go over the chocolates, one that would be printed with C & L Chocolates? My husband, Clif, agreed this would be a good idea, and on Saturday, we put our plan into action.

I mixed up the peanut butter mixture, and Clif, who has much better manual dexterity than I do, formed and dipped the chocolates. He also made the paper heart with our own name brand—C & L Chocolates. When we were done, we were very happy with the results. Not only were the chocolates tasty—we tested a couple, of course, just to be sure—but Clif did such a good job with the peanut-butter cups that they looked, well, almost professional nestled in the tray.

We weren’t the only ones who thought the chocolates looked professional. On Sunday, when Shannon opened the box, she said something along the lines of “How nice!” Then she did a double take. “Did you make these?” she asked.

Yes, we admitted, we did.

“At first I thought they were commercial,” Shannon said. “But then I could smell the peanut butter, and I knew they were homemade.”

Were we pleased? You bet we were. Pleased as punch, as the saying goes.

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There were other presents, bundled in a pretty canvas shopping bag, but this was our favorite. We also cooked a special meal: For appetizers, grilled bread, the first of the season, served with sliced oranges and pineapples; for the main meal, an orange-rosemary roasted chicken, baked potatoes, and glazed carrots; for dessert, cupcakes and mint-chocolate chip ice cream.

The only missing element was daughter Dee, who lives in New York, but she sent a lovely gift—an oven-proof wok from Cuisinart’s green line.

So happy birthday, Miss Shannon! And happy Earth Day!

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Books, Food for Thought, People

Mark Bittman and Michael Pollan Make the Case for Cooking at Home

Yesterday the New York Times featured two of my favorite food writers—Mark Bittman and Michael Pollan. In his piece, “Pollan Cooks!,” Bittman writes about Pollan’s new book, Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation. (I’ve already reserved my copy through interlibrary loan, and I expect it is a book I will want to add to my own collection.) Bittman also interviewed Michael Pollan, who makes a clear and convincing case that we, as a nation, were healthier when we ate mostly home-cooked food.

Simply put, when we cook at home, we use better ingredients than is commonly found in most commercially-prepared food. We use fewer chemical additives—if any—as well as less fat, sugar, and salt. We tend not to eat fried food because it takes so much time and is so messy. (I can attest to this. I love fried food, but the only time I get it is when I go out to eat, a couple of times a month.)

Perhaps just as important, home cooking, which includes meals for family and friends as well as celebrations throughout the year, nourishes the spirit as well as the body. When we come together for meals, we slow down, we talk, we connect. My own special memories of eating seldom include restaurant or commercially-prepared meals. Instead, those memories tend to revolve around going to the homes of family and friends, sitting at their tables, eating what they have prepared, and talking about all the things that concern and interest us. The food can be very simple—I recently wrote about eating egg salad sandwiches in my aunt and uncle’s kitchen—but when we come together to share a meal in the home, something very special happens.

My point is not to diminish the many fine restaurants we have in Maine and the talented chefs who devote their lives to cooking good food. Nevertheless, I think that eating out should be an occasional treat rather than a daily event. Once upon a time, way back when I was a child, this was the norm, and we were healthier as a result. (I’ve also written about this.)

So let’s hear it for home cooks, for both women AND men getting back into the kitchen to cook, cook, cook. Yes, it takes time, but why not spend some of that precious commodity cooking rather than watching TV or sitting in front of the computer? And either before or after dinner, as the days get longer and warmer, you might want to fit in a walk or a bike ride as well. If you do these two things, you just might find that you are hardly watching any TV and that your waistline is beginning to shrink.

People

Celebrating Shannon’s Birthday at Petite Jacqueline

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img_3334Yesterday I headed to the big city, to Portland, the Babylon of Maine, to celebrate my daughter Shannon’s birthday. As is our tradition, our friend Kate Johnson joined us for lunch. We all look forward to these thrice-yearly gatherings, where the birthday girl gets to select the restaurant. This year, Shannon chose Petite Jacqueline, a restaurant I had never been to, and it had such good food at such reasonable prices that I am tempted to choose it when we celebrate my birthday in September.

With its yellow walls and banquette seating, Petite Jacqueline really does have some of the feel of a French bistro. (There are tables and chairs as well.) On its website, Petite Jacqueline bills itself as serving comfort food—and this is certainly the case—Hamburgers are on the menu as well as mouth-watering, hand-cut fries. The food is neither fussy nor pretentious, but at the same time, there is a certain elegance to it. This combination of simple but good paired with elegance gives the restaurant a comfortable feel. There is nothing stuffy about Petite Jacqueline, and for a relatively small restaurant, there is a surprising amount of elbow-room, always a plus for me as I hate being crowded.

The birthday girl
The birthday girl

A friendly but intense server told us about the specials, one of which was English pea soup. Being Franco-American, I am very familiar with pea soup, but I had never heard of English pea soup, and it seemed a little odd for a French-style bistro to be serving English pea soup. On the other hand, maybe it was done in the spirit of multiculturalism, which I am always in favor of.

“What is the difference between French pea soup and English pea soup?” I asked the server.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

So I decided to order the soup, and as soon as the server brought it to me, I could immediately see the difference. This English pea soup was bright green and puréed. French pea soup, at least the one I am used to, is made with dried split peas and ham or salt pork. It is yellow and thick with texture, almost like a porridge, and the ham gives it a smoky taste. This green pea soup, on the other hand, had a fresh—one might even call it green—taste with an onion undertone. I ate every bit of it and could have eaten more.

English pea soup
English pea soup

Shannon ordered the hamburger, which came with those delectable fries, and Kate got the sandwich au fromage, which featured brie and apricot preserves and came with a side salad. Both said their meals were delicious.

Along with buying the birthday girl lunch, we like to give presents, and Kate brought Shannon The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook. (If you are unfamiliar with this terrific blog, then don’t hesitate to check it out.) Shannon has been wanting the cookbook for sometime, but Kate, who lives out of state, did not know this. Perhaps, I joked, Kate received psychic emanations from Shannon: “I want the Smitten Kitchen Cookbook.”

Whatever the case, Shannon was very pleased with the book, and we were all very pleased with our meals at Petite Jacqueline.

Kate’s birthday is next, and I can’t wait to see which restaurant she will choose.

Wherever we go, we always bring our good appetites and our bonhomie.

The gang of three, with Kate being a little squeezed out
The gang of three, with Kate being a little squeezed out

 

Community, People

A Walk with Laura McCandlish—Part I: Remembering Vielleux’s Market

Laura McCandlish
Laura McCandlish

At a recent foodie gathering in Brunswick, I met Laura McCandlish, a journalist who writes about food and who has worked for Public Radio. (She also has a very snappy blog called BalitmOregon to Maine.) When Laura found out I was a fifth-generation Franco-American, she asked if she could interview me for an audio documentary contest she plans on entering. As I was born in Waterville—which has a big Franco-American population—Laura suggested we meet there so I could show her the Franco section of town—the South End. I agreed, but I did warn her that the South End wasn’t the same as when I was a child. However, Laura wanted to go there anyway so that I could reminisce, and to the South End we went.

For readers unfamiliar with Maine’s history, here’s an extremely brief account of Franco-Americans in Maine. In the 1800s, during the Industrial Revolution, New England factory representatives went to Quebec to seek mill workers, and they were extremely successful. Workers, and eventually their large extended families, came in bunches, hoping to do what immigrants have always done—make better lives for themselves and their families, who were extremely poor. Many French Canadians settled in Maine, where factories once abounded, and to this day, Waterville’s Franco-American population stands at about 40 percent. (French Canadians also settled in northern Maine, but that is a different story, and one I won’t go into here.)

For French Canadians who came to work in Maine factories, there is unfortunately a chronicle of discrimination, intimidation (the Klan was huge in Maine, and they marched against Catholics and Franco-Americans), language suppression (French was actually outlawed), and in Waterville, at least, voter suppression. Franco-Americans were second-class citizens, and they certainly knew this was the case. However, times change, situations improve, and the grip of the dominant culture relaxes.

Laura was interested in all of this, but as food is one of her central concerns, she also wanted some information about Franco food. I took her to the South End’s Shewin Street, once home to Vielleux’s Market, the small grocery store where my parents did all their grocery shopping. The market is gone now, as are all the tenement buildings that were around it, and although there is a green park (or ball field) down the hill from where Vielleux’s once stood, the place has a lonely, blasted look, quite different from the vibrant neighborhood I remember.

Memory, I realize, can be tricky and unreliable, but here is what I remember of Vielleux’s Market. Somehow, it is always summer, and it has just rained. On the sidewalk, there is a line of wooden crates filled with fruit—cantaloup, peaches, bananas—and their scent mingles with the smell of the wet pavement. The market is a swirl of people: dusty-legged children in brown shorts run in for Popsicles and candy; skinny women, with their dark hair in pin curls, come for Pepsi and cigarettes, and older women, large and serene in their bright mumus, shop for bread and bologna. Lee, the owner of the market, is in back at the meat counter, and my father is ordering our meat for the week. As my father orders, he munches an uncooked hot dog that Lee has given him, and they talk and talk as Lee slices meat and wraps it in white paper. In the front, neat and tidy, is Christine, the cashier. My mother calls out the prices of the food she’s buying, and Christine rings in the prices. The small counter is overflowing with food. My parents were ardent grocery shoppers, and I come by my good eater moniker quite naturally. Both parents grew up in poverty, and food meant a lot to them. Neither of them ever starved, but they never had quite as much to eat as they wanted or exactly what they would have liked.

The market was small and the variety was basic. There was no fresh basil or parsley. Cilantro? What was that? There were carrots, potatoes, celery, and apples. Cereal, flour, baking powder, and sugar. Cream horns, bread, and turnovers. Dried spaghetti and macaroni. And Spam, Spam, Spam. As well as other staples, of course.

Some of what I’ve written in this post I related to Laura, and some of it I have expanded on here. I am much better at expressing myself in writing than through conversation. (Laura, if you are reading this, then feel free to use whatever you want.)

In an upcoming post I’ll address a question I have asked many times. That is, where are all the cafés serving tortière pies? And what, exactly, is Franco food?

 

 

People

Steve’s Elemental Birthday, in which Heifers and Returnable Bottles Were Involved

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAA while back, I received this invitation from my friend Margy Knight: “You’re invited to a partially surprise party! Steve [Margy’s husband] is turning 60 … and we are having a BYOT  CHEMISTRY PARTY to celebrate this milestone with him. He knows about the party but doesn’t know any of the details so don’t tell! What’s BYOT you ask? Bring Your Own Trash. Duh. Bet you’ve never been to one of these before and bet you don’t want to miss this one! Step 1) Please bring as many bags of redeemable bottles with you as you can and drop them on the front lawn when you arrive–1, 2, 10, whatever you have to offer is great. The birthday boy has made it his 60th-year goal to raise enough money through bottles to buy a Heifer Ark ($5,000, read more here: https://secure1.heifer.org/gift-catalog/ark.html), so we’re secretly enlisting your help to make his goal happen even faster than he can alone. Not only that but he just really likes trash and recyclables so this will rock his socks! Step 2) Prepare for an evening of all things chemistry. There will be a periodic table made of cupcakes, glowing beverages in beakers (did you know quinine fluoresces under a black light?), and perhaps some chemistry games (don’t worry, they won’t require too much chem knowledge)and a chemistry sing along.  Google chemistry party, chemistry food or something along those lines and you will get plenty of inspirations. Have fun with it! Oh and you are welcome to come in costume with a lab coat, goggles or whatever else you can dream up that relates to trash and/or chemistry.”

In past posts, I’ve written a little about Steve, but here’s a brief description for new readers. Steve is a chemistry teacher and a scrounge extraordinaire. He loves going to the town’s transfer station to see what might still be useful for his family and friends. Once upon a time, Steve was allowed to go into the pit to retrieve choice items, but sadly for Steve, those days are gone. The town decided it was too dangerous for pit diving, and as much as I sympathize with Steve, I do agree with the town’s decision.

Along with being a chemistry teacher and an accomplished recycler, Steve is also very concerned with social justice issues. Hence, the heifer ark, the returnable bottles, and the periodic table cake.

Unfortunately, we could not go to Steve’s party. A very special person in our family was having his 30th birthday party on the same day. (February was quite the month for parties.) But Margy told me all about the party, how Steve got over $300 in returnable bottles, and how their daughter Emilie made sheet cakes, as it turned out, to construct the periodic table cake. Margy even brought me a couple of pieces of that spicy cake.

I emailed Emilie and asked her to describe how she made the cake. This is what she wrote:  “I started by finding a triple ginger cake recipe since my dad is a huge fan of all things ginger. Unlike what most people would do / recommend, I have a tendency to alter baking recipes, especially when it comes to the flour I use. There’s this amazing new whole wheat flour coming out of the Skowhegan Gristmill that is super finely ground and makes for a better substitute for refined white flour than most of the whole wheat. So I used mostly that. It was probably denser than it would have been but I personally like the fuller taste of whole wheat (and of course the better nutrition too!). I considered getting a square cupcake / cornbread pan or just using a round cupcake pan but then realized that making sheet cakes was the easiest way to go. Three half-hotel pans later and I had 114 of the 118 pieces I needed — oops! 4 too few! So I strategically took out four pieces and made a trivia question about which elements were missing. And lastly, I topped it with a maple cream cheese frosting before doing the lettering and sprinkling various colorful and strange-shaped sugar candies all over it. Definitely not perfect from the baking perspective but was a winner at the party! It was great to see my dad’s face when he saw the cake. So fun!”

Although we couldn’t go to the party, a few days later we dropped off bottles as well as a card and a present. In addition, we pledged our returnables to Steve until he reached his goal of $5,000 for the Heifer Ark.

So happy birthday, Steve! May you have a great year of scrounging and getting returnable bottles that will take you ever closer to your goal.

An elemental cake
An elemental cake
People, Recipes

Mike’s 30th Birthday Tempura

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The birthday boy
The birthday boy

 

Last weekend was a big one for us—we celebrated the 30th birthday of our son-in-law, Mike. Let’s just say that from my vantage point, 30 seems like a very long time ago.

“Do you remember turning 30?” I recently asked my husband, Clif.

“Not really,” he answered.

“Neither do I. ”

Nevertheless, 30 is one of those milestone birthdays. Ordinarily, we are quite frugal when it comes to birthdays, and we have even been known to slip in a “gently-used” present or two into the mix of what we give. (The gently-used present is usually a book.) But on milestone birthdays we splurge, and for Mike’s 30th birthday, we all chipped in to buy him a Nikon camera. As his family also chipped in to buy the camera, we were able to get a nice one for Mike, who has a great eye and has been taking terrific shots with just his phone. I can’t wait to see what he does with an actual camera and a good one at that.

Our daughter Dee came from New York to join us, and what a great meal we had at our daughter Shannon and Mike’s home. The centerpiece for appetizers was homemade pretzels, baked fresh as we sat at the dining room table. As Shannon noted, it’s amazing how something so simple can taste so good. The pretzels are boiled first and then baked, like bagels, which means they are not just twisted bread. Soft, chewy, warm, salty and dipped in melted cheese—the jarred kind that I don’t usually like but somehow seemed perfect for those pretzels. I am embarrassed to admit how many I ate, so I’m not going to do so. Let’s just say that after those pretzels—along with fresh-baked tortilla chips from Whole Foods—I was so full that I wasn’t sure how I was going to eat any of the main meal, a tempura.

Oh, those pretzels!
Oh, those pretzels!

But, it’s amazing what a half-hour break can do to settle the stomach. Mike opened his presents and quite naturally took a long time examining his camera. We chatted about this and that, and there was a fair amount of camera and photography talk.

Then it was on to tempura, a fancy term for food dipped in a simple batter and, in this case, fried in a wok right at the table. There are usually dipping sauces, and Shannon provided two sweet sauces and one hot and spicy. We had mushrooms, zucchini, carrots, potatoes, broccoli, and chicken. The food, piping hot and crisp and bite-sized, is delicious, but more than that, the meal becomes a ritual as diners watch the tempura chef dip the vegetables in batter, fry the food, and then pass small portions on a plate for everyone to enjoy. Not every meal, of course, can be a ritual, but how nice it is to have one like this for special occasions.

The veggies, waiting to be fried
The veggies, waiting to be fried

Clif started out as the tempura chef, but because of his broken wrist, he was not as adept with the chopsticks as he usually is. Since I am pathetic with chopsticks, and Shannon is a wiz, she took over from him. (Unfortunately, I only thought to take a picture of Clif at the batter bowl.)

Clif at the batter bowl
Clif at the batter bowl
Lovely, lovely tempura
Lovely, lovely tempura

Again, I am embarrassed to admit how much tempura I ate. A real cheat day for me, and the ice cream cake we had for dessert was the perfect ending to an oh-so-good meal.

Happy 30th birthday, Mike. I can’t wait to see your pictures.

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