mulberryshoots

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" ~ Mary Oliver

beginning haiku . . .

blue heron for facebook

I’ve been thinking in the back of my mind about writing haiku for a long time. One reason is that it expresses feeling in few words.

Another is remembering a Japanese woman who started painting calligraphy at the age of ninety-one (“you can do it!”) and was deemed a National Treasure of Japan at the age of ninety-five during her “late period” of work. So I suppose it’s never too late to be creative in new ways.

Today, composing haiku has stepped forward and here’s one for today:

                                 “My light is undimmed,

                                  on heron’s spindle legs, stand. . . 

                                  for life sweet and dear.” 

 

 

a midsummer night’s movie binge . . .

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Last night, we had dinner and then watched the tail end (the best part) of “Moonstruck” on Channel 91 of all places. The movie that came on afterwards was “Love Story” with Ryan O’Neal and Ali McGraw. I couldn’t believe I was watching it for the first time EVER! (Read online that one of the groups at Harvard still shows it to incoming freshman as a bonding exercise while they jeer and make fun of the movie.) I was struck by how fresh and beautiful Ali McGraw was in this film. Read later about her troubled 3rd marriage to Steve McQueen but that’s another whole long story.)
Next on this random TV station we don’t normally watch after “Love Story” was “Falling in Love” with Meryl Streep and Robert di Niro when they were oh-so-young and trim! That’s one of my all-time favorite films because of the way material of about falling in love by chance with someone outside marriage is handled so delicately and with such astute sensitivity. Streep almost runs into a train while desperately wanting to see him before he leaves town in the middle of the night – and fails. Plus, Robert de Niro’s hesitation as he walks towards Meryl Streep in the train at the end of the film is just priceless.
I continued the romantic love movie binge today by briefing “Oliver’s Story” – a sequel to “Love Story” with Candace Bergen which was a pale shadow of the original film with its overly repetitive music theme composed by Francis Lai (who also composed the unforgettable music theme to the French classic, “A Man and a Woman” in 1968, two years before “Love Story” in 1970.
Then, mid-morning, “Julie and Julia” came on – and once again, I observed Meryl Streep’s finely tuned facial expressions which showed her love for her husband, Paul Cushing Child played by Stanley Tucci and for her long affair with French cuisine.
Anyhow, although I have not been a Meryl Streep fan per se for a long time, her portrayal in “Falling in Love” made me seek out another unrequited life/love movie she starred in with Clint Eastwood called “Bridges of Madison County.” Oh my, how the grown children overreact and remonstrate at the beginning of the movie whilst they start reading their mother’s dying wish to be cremated and her ashes strewn at the bridge where Robert Kincaid’s ashes were scattered decades before. But “who was Robert Kincaid?” I am struck once again how the brittle shell around a family’s life is just a thin partition between what’s known within and what else truly mattered to people in their lives outside that cocoon.
So my list of favorite romantic movies that slowly unfurled on its own without much interference from me includes: “Moonstruck,” “Falling in Love,” “Bridges of Madison County,” so far. “Love Story” et al. didn’t make the cut, but I might go back and watch “A Man and a Woman” – which I loved with Jean-Louis Trintingeant and Anouk Aimee (va va voom!)  I’ll also reflect on other movies that might be added to this shortlist later on.
It’s amazing what one can do to entertain oneself with some unexpected serendipity on TV, Google, a subscription to Amazon Prime and some quiet down time (with a recuperating ankle) during what feels like a very long, hot summer.
Postscript: to jog my memory of other movies I have liked as much as these, I went through the top romance movies in the last ten years and then the top romance movies of all time. Guess what? “Falling in Love” isn’t even on either list! The only other movie I can think of right now that I enjoy seeing repeats of is “Notting Hill” with Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts.  Then there’s “The French Lieutenant’s Woman” (again with Meryl Streep) and “Out of Africa,” (MS too!)
Hmmmmm. . .  will have to think about this further.

simply keeping it simple . . .

my de-cluttered kitchen "sparks joy"!

my de-cluttered kitchen “sparks joy”!

I was thinking that having day surgery is a blessing in disguise. How’s that, you might ask? Let me count the ways:

  1.  It’s not serious or it wouldn’t be day surgery. However, it does contain potential pitfalls for recovering from anesthesia (getting air back into your lungs, dry throat) and elevating limbs to avoid blood clots. So you still have to be careful and watchful during recuperation.
  2. Just being minimally at risk makes you appreciate everything that you have and don’t want to take for granted: a loving, thoughtful husband; good wishes of people around you who offer help with carrying things or doing the laundry (our tenants who live on the 2nd floor); friends who offer to come by with a pizza and greek salad the next night you’re home; well-wishers from all over the place you had least expected.
  3. Peace and quiet convenience. I ordered a Coleman camp chair  for $22.00 that is spacious and comfortable with a pillow on its seat. It has a mesh cup container built into the right hand arm and a compartment for books and the TV remote on the left side. A large wooden board on the sofa beside my chair serves as a platform for more books, my phone and my laptop computer. And my legs are elevated on a stool with a cushion in front of me. Handy dandy!
  4. Nice food: As a way to fill up the time before the surgery (and clean out the fridge) I made some light soups (cucumber and potato) and put them in the freezer. We have been eating lightly because it’s the middle of August, but it feels good to know that in the freezer, there are rib-eye steaks on the bone, chicken thighs and extra-large shrimp on hand. We still have corn on the cob, tomatoes, squash and green onions from the local farmstand that we’ll replenish this weekend. Tonight, we’re having dinner with a neighbor who’s taking six hours of Medical Boards today – will experiment with the homemade egg pasta I made yesterday with some shrimp scampi sauteed in garlic and fresh rosemary tonight to celebrate her milestone.
  5. Good will: I feel content with my life. Stopping ever so temporarily over a physical procedure has made a difference in the way I feel about the future. I no longer feel hidebound to certain responsibilities anymore. My kids are grown and able to take care of themselves. And I’m free to live without striving for anything any longer. Just live simply and enjoy the day.
  6. In fact, I almost feel like I’ve faked my own death and am free to run away to Mexico to sip margaritas with fresh lime juice and eat tacos on Tuesdays!

summer supper . . .

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On Tuesday while waiting at the hospital, I looked through an “Organic Life” magazine that had what looked like a quesadilla with scallions on it. Since I’ve been home, I wanted to make some scallion pancakes for a light supper. So tonight, I used some flatbread that I had in the fridge, spread the flatbread with a little sesame oil and lard, chopped up a gorgeous handful of thin, fresh green onions, sprinkled some sea salt before crisping two halves in a skillet with a weight on it. (Next time, I might use flour tortillas which are thinner and less bread-like.)

The rest of our supper was fresh corn on the cob and bowls of cream of potato soup that I took out of the freezer earlier in the day. George brought in a handful of ripe cherry tomatoes from our plant outside on the deck. Yum!

making homemade noodles . . . first try!

 

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So my ankle is feeling pretty good after day surgery on Tuesday. I’m been able to get around with a slight bit of weight bearing which helps enormously in getting around.

It’s a cool summer morning so I thought I’d take this quiet time while G. is out tuning pianos at one of the colleges to unpack the Philips electric pasta machine and try it out. In the intervening time, I’ve been reading two fabulous cookbooks on homemade pasta with incredibly delicious sounding recipes with simple ingredients: “Flour + Water: Pasta” and “Mastering Pasta,” both of which I recommend if for the inspiring photos within alone.

I’ll also summarize what I’ve gleaned for myself after watching YouTube videos of how to use the machine and from reading other blogs about making pasta at home:

a.  In the flour measuring cup, I’m using half “OO” flour and half “Semolina” flours. I ordered these online from Amazon earlier in the week and they arrived yesterday. Used 1 cup of mixed flours.

"OO" and "Semolina" flours

“OO” and “Semolina” flours

b. In the liquid measuring cup, I’m using three egg yolks stirred in bottled water added halfway up the cup with a teaspoon of olive oil.

c. I rinsed out the insides of the machine and turned it on; then added flours as it started to rotate and gradually added half cup of egg yolk/water liquid. It ran for three minutes without the mixture looking like a dough.

the flours, egg yolks, water and olive oil mixing in the machine

the flours, egg yolks, water and olive oil mixing in the machine

d. On the fourth minute, the pasta started to extrude through the lasagna plate that I had attached to the machine. As it came out, I cut it off after about 5-7 inches and laid it curled up on a plate.

lasagna noodles extruded from machine . . .

lasagna noodles extruded from machine . . .

e. When all the lasagna noodles were extruded, I turned the machine off and hand cut the noodles into pappardalle width noodles; then let them rest. After a half an hour, I might take a rolling pin and roll the noodles out a little thinner. (I looked for my old fashioned pie crust roller to cut the edges but couldn’t find it.)

handcut noodles "resting" . . .

handcut noodles “resting” . . .

Of course, the proof of the pudding (or the pasta) is in the cooking and eating of it! I will wait and see if rolling the noodles thinner with a rolling pin is in the cards, and then store them until we cook them up for our first dish – maybe tomorrow when our neighbor joins us for supper after taking her medical boards.

I thought maybe a saute of fresh scallions, mushrooms and baby spinach with a little freshly grated parmesan might be worth trying. Stay tuned for follow-up photos! One recipe of these wide noodles with a veal ragu looked really good too.

By the way, cleanup of this machine takes some effort as I did it by hand rather than putting the parts in the dishwasher. I’ll probably make a double batch of noodles next time around and freeze extra batches to make the whole production worthwhile!

Spinach fettucine and ramen noodles are next on the list!

 

 

a ‘screw loose’ . . . and fresh noodles!

homemade pasta
In case you’ve ever thought I might have a screw loose, you’re right! The ankle I broke a couple of years ago was mended with two plates attached with thirteen screws. One plate was in the back and another one on the side by the four-inch incision. And a pin that held my tibia and fibula together. I asked for the pin to be removed a year later because it felt like my foot was glued together.
But recently, I felt like my ankle wasn’t holding up – that is, when I stood up in the morning, it felt unstable and that I might teeter over any moment. Plus, there was a noticeable “point” that I could feel with my finger right under the skin. Not a good sign, right?
So I had an x-ray Friday and sure enough, the side plate apparatus will be removed this coming Tuesday. Having major surgery is no fun but it should be more like restorative surgery than adding more metal to the pedal. I don’t look forward to the anesthesia, shots and needles that it will entail, and especially the overdosing of oxycontin the nurses give you when it’s not needed. Last time around, I worried more about the painkiller effects than anything else.
The orthopedic surgeon said I’d be in a splint for 2 weeks and a boot for 6 weeks – which means getting up and down our three flights of stairs to where we live will be an exercise in ingenuity again and of course no driving for 8 weeks since it’s my right foot. We also retrieved my arm crutches and wheelchair to get ready for ambulatory care this coming week.
Yesterday, we cleaned out the freezer completely and stocked it with freshly purchased rib-eye steaks, chicken thighs and shrimp that I can cook easily supplemented with a dozen ears of farmstand corn, squash, salad greens and fresh eggs in the fridge. A large pot of cucumber soup is in progress on the stove this morning. Also plan to make a pot of potato soup that I’ll freeze along with the cucumber soup base – nice and light for the summertime that we can eat later on along with a fresh zucchini frittata or spinach quiche. I was thinking that it might be useful to shop and cook this way for times when we won’t be going to the grocery store every day or so anyhow. Plus, it feels good to know exactly what we have on hand so that I’ll be able to cook from our pantry and fridge even while fresh veggies and fruit are plentiful right now in the middle of the summer.
Knowing myself, I thought about a project (or two) that I might undertake while I have limited mobility for a few weeks: and that is to teach myself how to make homemade pasta. Too bad for the non-gluten folks, but I’ve ordered some Italian “00” flour and some semolina flour to experiment with. Fresh mushrooms of different varieties with some fresh spinach and pine or hazelnuts might be a good combo – and of course tomatoes with fresh basil too.
One of our tenants is taking her Medical Board exams on Friday and I’ll make something simple and tasty to celebrate at our supper together afterwards.
Light and right! That’s a good way to look at it, I suppose. Anyhow, that’s what’s come from a screw coming loose in the wrong place. I’ve always loved fresh noodles and now, I’ll be able to make all kinds of them (fettucine, papperdalle, angel hair) and experiment between reading cookery books and trying them out in our kitchen.
No biggie in the larger scheme of things.
P.S.  The day surgery was uneventful and I was told I could bear some weight on the ankle which helped a lot getting up the stairs to where we live! Have been browsing through two fantastic cookbooks featuring handmade noodles and am inspired as well as a little daunted by what it entails.
At first, my reaction was that the Phillips pasta machine wasn’t “purist” enough – that is, it didn’t allow the dough to rest before it was extruded. Plus, I couldn’t figure out how to make flavored pastas, such as with fresh peas, spinach or carrots, for example. But I kept reading in the books and also searched online where I found some ideas that might work with the electric pasta machine after all. For example, buy bottled vegetable juices and add to the flour. So, I’m going to wait a little longer, read the Phillips recipe book and see if making wide lasagna noodles will allow me to use a pie crust roller to make pretty wide-cut noodles like pappardalle and spinach fettucine. More later.

“Focus and CROP!” to get to one’s inner truth . . .

"focused and cropped" . . .

“focused and cropped” . . .

Yesterday at lunch, my granddaughter conveyed some advice she received from a mentor who used a photography metaphor that is apropos to life in general:

“Focus and crop!”

As a result, she decided to drop one major at school and focus on an internship that she applied for next summer.

I can really identify with that because it’s so easy to get distracted in life doing things that you don’t sincerely want to do but feel you should because “it would be nice.” I think people can tell when there’s a twinge of resentment or perhaps a lack of whole-heartedness in putting forth social niceties. So why keep doing that?

What also seems to be coming more in focus for me is that it’s not what others do or don’t do; or how they do it that’s truly meaningful. It’s how I feel towards them that’s more important for me to get a firm handle on. Otherwise, one can be flung back and forth in a morass of flotsam and jetsam depending upon what other people do – reacting rather than being still and grounded in oneself.

It seems to me that being honest with oneself is truly what matters in order to “focus and crop.” A lot of people can’t do it: be honest, that is. To me, it’s NOT someone else’s behavior and whether they might change or not that is the precursor to making important decisions in my life. Rather, it’s the quality of the emotional connection you have inside yourself towards that person that one needs to measure and ground oneself to, whatever that might be. Cropping out all the concomitant noise that can contain envy, competition, judgment or even a habit of self-punishment can make the picture much more clear – even if it’s not what we’d necessarily prefer to see in our heart of hearts.

So I guess focus and cropping are two different things. Focusing on what’s truly within (including the good, the bad and the ugly) is one thing. Cropping out all the other crap (pardon my French!) makes the picture more legible in a second step of the process.

Sometimes, we may feel initially that the emotional connections we have with people are not strong enough or have been so worn down by time and circumstance that there’s just not much there any longer. Only we ourselves know whether there is a deep reservoir or only a trickling mountain stream within. After awhile, what feels at first like a trickling stream opens up into a deep reservoir the size of the Mississippi River. I don’t think anyone can underestimate the depth of maternal love, even after a lifetime of missed opportunities. Least of all, myself.

Life doesn’t have to be that hard if we can be honest with ourselves within. That’s where the focus and cropping really helps!  Great advice! Thanks, A.!

 

perfect soft-boiled eggs (to me). . .

soft boiled eggs

For years, I have been making soft-boiled eggs for breakfast. When the eggs are organic, free-range, whatever, there’s nothing more pure in taste than a nicely turned out soft-boiled egg. The white is not runny but still tender and the yolk is warmed through and runny just enough. How to do it consistently?

I read somewhere a few years ago to boil eggs this way. Bring a small pot of water to a full boil without the eggs. This is the trick. Once the water is boiling, slowly lower two fresh eggs into the water. Set the timer to six minutes. (five if you like runnier eggs) When the timer goes off, pour the boiling hot water off into the sink and run the eggs under a cold water faucet. Drain and enjoy!

I like to sprinkle them with Maldon salt and cracked pepper. Sometimes I’ll add a dab of Chinese oyster sauce – a habit from my Dad who ate them that way every morning when it was prepared for him.

So, there you have it on this quiet, sunny, dry Sunday morning.

And good morning too!

“doe, a deer, a female deer . . . ” and her young

Scenes from our mini-vacation in Peggy’s Cove, Nova Scotia:

Tom 1 Tom 3 Tom 4FB 3FB 2

It’s not the place, people, . . . it’s the people!

"whaleback cottage" where we stayed for a few nights this weekend. . .

“whaleback cottage” where we stayed for a few nights this weekend. . .

view from our cottage window, G. in the distance. . .

view from our cottage window, G. in the distance. . .

Less than twelve hours in Nova Scotia, the Canadian people have shown themselves to be extraordinarily helpful, friendly and full of energy towards being positive in life. A man at the airport told us about how the seats were listed across the rows; the head of a big piano dealership specializing in new Steinway and Yamaha pianos described his business to us, proud of it despite his being blind; his staff helped us find a bank open after 5 p.m. where we could exchange U.S. dollars to Canadian currency; a woman at a market nearby was amiable as she cut a carton of eggs in half with a small knife so that we could buy half a dozen for our stay; a young boy about ten years old said “hello” to me in the store even though I’m Asian.

After that, we had a delicious supper at a restaurant called “Rhubarb” which served homemade buttermilk biscuits. The maitre D’ – a woman – told us about how out of 29 staff, there was only one 52-year old woman who could make the recipe turn out right. (The secret is not to twist the biscuit cutter so as to allow the biscuits to rise unencumbered.) The wit and grace with which she told us about it showed how much she enjoyed her job (and life) and how refreshing it was to watch the way she greeted all the diners in a similar fashion including a couple who bought two small oil paintings off the wall after they finished their meal.

And there’s more: the affable manager of our cottage, offered to let us use his phone anytime because he has an economical plan (and because our cellphones don’t work up here,) leaving it out on the settee of his porch when he’s away on errands during the day. After meeting us for less than five minutes last night, “Ted” offered to treat us to a lobster dinner one night – and we accepted as long as he will join us to have it together tomorrow night.

He regaled us (that’s the only word) with stories about his life including a serious bout with cancer two years ago wherein heavy radiation and chemo treatments were perpetrated upon his body. He said to his team of seven doctors at Dalhousie Medical Center: “Do whatever you think is best and if it doesn’t help me, maybe it will help somebody else.” That’s an incredible attitude towards life and survival, at least to me. How we live when we think we’re dying is a testament to our will – and his, believe me, is way beyond anyone whom I’ve ever met.

Today, we’re planning to drive to the Mahone Bay area where “Ted” gave us a recommendation for a local restaurant to have lunch at called, “Oh My Cod!” and to visit Lunenberg where the museum for the famous 19th century schooner, “Bluenose,” is found.

We hardly travel at all, much less to another country. We picked this picturesque cottage called “Whaleback Cottage” on the edge of Peggy’s Cove outside of Halifax, Nova Scotia. We have been surprised by the plentiful scrub pine trees growing everywhere (with irregular spaces between the branches that are never available at Christmas time.) The land and sea are beautiful as they are everywhere in the world.

But what I have been so impressed with in so little time haa not been a sense of place (although it is beautiful) but the kind and vibrant spirit of the Canadian people we’ve come across who seem to live life with so much joyful energy and generosity of spirit towards others. It is such a refreshing breath of fresh air. And what a stark contrast it is to the America we all know and worry about these days.

More later.

P.S.  Our trip to Mahone Bay and Lunenberg were just about as expected. Except that when we decided to split an order of a 3-decker grilled cheese sandwich with fries – and a slice of coconut cream pie for dessert, we were informed our meals were “on the house!” “Ted’s” friend then came over and introduced herself – and we chatted about his health and his generosity. We left a big tip for the waitress who was working her 2nd day at the restaurant.grilled cheese sandwich